Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning for Occupational Practice 9780429505119, 9781138585713

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Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning for Occupational Practice

Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning for Occupational Practice offers a ­collection of international perspectives on work-related education and ­training at further/Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET), higher and professional levels. The book provides a new area of study of o ­ ccupational ­education with tripartite dimensions concerning learning, teaching and working. Providing space for further research and implementation possibilities, the book offers comprehensive multidisciplinary and multi-level perspectives, g­ iving extensive coverage of the structure and focus of these types of programmes concerning geographical locations and academic levels, and also drawing on perspectives from national, institutional and individual interactions. Topics of investigations include apprenticeships, education of occupational teachers, training of workers and entrepreneurs, and working of physicians. Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning for Occupational Practice will be vital reading for academics in education, educationalists in the related areas of clinical practices, sports and culture-related industries, researchers, policymakers, government officials and those from socio-development change agencies. Sai Loo is an academic at the UCL Institute of Education, University College London, United Kingdom.

Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning for Occupational Practice Edited by Sai Loo

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 selection and editorial matter, Sai Loo; individual chapters, the contributors The right of the editor to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Loo, Sai, editor. Title: Multiple dimensions of teaching and learning for occupational practice / edited by Sai Loo. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018038042 (print) | LCCN 2018048088 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429505119 (E-book) | ISBN 9781138585713 (hbk) | ISBN 9780429505119 (ebk) Subjects: LCSH: Occupational training. | Vocational education. | Professional education. | School-to-work transition. Classification: LCC HD5715 (ebook) | LCC HD5715 .M85 2019 (print) | DDC 658.3/124—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018038042 ISBN: 978-1-138-58571-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-50511-9 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Apex CoVantage, LLC

To Caroline and Anna for their warm support and not forgetting the irrepressible Tosca. To my father, for all he has done for me, and to my sister for allowing me locations to write.

Contents

List of figures and tablesix List of contributorsxi Acknowledgementsxv   1 Researching occupational practice

1

SAI LOO

 2 ‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – a necessary and complex ingredient of the ‘Dual’ apprenticeship frameworks

8

LORENZ LASSNIGG

  3 Occupational preparation for manual work: fitter/machinists and concrete product operators

37

ERICA SMITH

  4 Perspectives of beginning trades tutors on teaching and learning

56

SELENA CHAN

  5 A typology of occupational teachers’ capacities across the three academic levels

72

SAI LOO

  6 Education and training in human movement programmes: stakeholder perspectives SALLEE CALDWELL AND MELINDA HALL

92

viii Contents

  7 Educating work-ready youth workers: appraising a university program for Australian and international contexts

110

JENNIFER BROOKER

  8 Learning to become an entrepreneur in unfavourable conditions: the case of new entrants in the context of the Greek debt-crisis

131

KONSTANTINOS KARANASIOS AND THOMAS LANS

  9 Professionalism and affective learning for new prison officers: learning values, attitudes and behaviours in training at the Scottish Prison Service

150

KATRINA MORRISON

10 The journey from healthcare assistant to assistant practitioner: working and learning

170

CLAIRE THURGATE

11 Understanding and appraising medical students’ learning through clinical experiences: participatory practices at work

200

STEPHEN BILLETT AND LINDA SWEET

12 Learning decision making in the emergency department

217

DUNCAN THOMAS CARMICHAEL

13 Reflections on the occupational practice

236

SAI LOO

Index245

Figures and tables

Figures 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 5.1

Occupational categories of completers of apprenticeship in Austria (2016) 15 Demography and apprenticeship in Austria 1970–2017 23 Access to apprenticeship related to demography and overall unemployment24 Ownership of apprenticeships by sub-units 26 Comparison of sub-units with ownership to divisions by main indicators 27 Change of occupational categories 1999–2017 30 Typology of recontextualisation processes 78

Tables 2.1 2.2 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.A1 3.A2 3.A3 3.B1

The structure of the Austrian Economic Chambers and the embeddedness of apprenticeship 19 Change of training occupations, creation of new occupations 1999–2017 29 Research participants for occupational studies, for the two occupations40 Details of the full case studies for the two occupations 41 Structure of the two qualifications 45 Findings about the requirements for each of the list of employability skills for the occupation of fitter and machinist, from case study interviews 52 Other elements of the job: extent to which these applied in the job 53 Level of literacy/numeracy requirements of the job 53 Findings about the requirements for each of the list of employability skills for the occupation of concrete products operator, from case study interviews 54

x  Figures and tables

3.B2 Other elements of the job: extent to which these applied in the job 54 3.B3 Level of literacy/numeracy requirements of the job 55 5.1 Details of participants 80 6.1 Overview of AQF Levels according to qualification and 94 education provider 6.2 Overview of WBL placement hours in human movement programmes in HE 99 7.1 The Bachelor of Community Youth Work curriculum 114 delivery plan 7.2 Appraisal of the overall model 119 7.3 Overall score for sub-theme appraisal questions 122 8.1 Characteristics of the studied cases 136 8.2 Number, and percentage of the total number, of individual learner factors as recalled by the owner-managers 138 8.3 Number, and percentage of the total number, of work-environment factors as recalled by the owner-managers139 8.4 Number, and percentage of the total number, of entrepreneurial and sociocultural ecosystem factors as 140 recalled by the owner-managers 8.5 Number, and percentage of the total number, of learning141 related activities as recalled by the owner-managers 8.6 Outcomes of the entrepreneurial learning process 143 10.1 Participants at each stage 173 10.2 Over-arching super-ordinate and emergent themes: the whole journey 177 10.3 Emerging framework for describing an effective journey from HCA to AP 178 10.4 Emerging concept framework for describing an effective 185 journey from HCA to AP 12.1 Details of participants 226

Contributors

Professor Stephen Billett is Professor of Adult and Vocational Education at Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia, a National Teaching Fellow and an Australian Research Council Future Fellow. He has worked as a vocational educator, educational administrator, teacher educator, professional development practitioner and policy developer in the Australian vocational education system and as a teacher and researcher at Griffith University. Dr Jennifer Brooker is an expert in international youth worker education and training, the focus of her PhD thesis.The Joint Coordinator for International Research and Training at YMCA George Williams College, London, UK, she works in both vocational and higher education programs which support young people across the globe. The institution provides community-focused projects and opportunities which support young people and the people who work with them to extend their own knowledge and skills development in a wide range of areas, including the areas of mentoring, global citizenship, utilising the arts and international exchanges. Sallee Caldwell is an academic in the School of Health and Life Sciences at Federation University Australia. Sallee lectures and coordinates work-based learning (WBL) programmes within the area of professional practice, sport management internships and sport event management. Sallee completed a master’s degree in 2017 that focused on industry supervisors and their WBL experiences within an internship programme. The findings of Sallee’s research were presented at the Australian Collaborative Education Network Conference. Sallee’s interest in research is ongoing in the area of WBL with a specific emphasis on collaborating with industry supervisors and supporting their role within WBL. Dr Duncan Thomas Carmichael is Consultant in Emergency Medicine (EM) and Clinical Lead in the Emergency Department at the Whittington Hospital in London, UK. He studied medicine at the University of Glasgow, and trained in Paediatrics and EM in Glasgow, London and Sydney. During his specialty training in EM in North East Thames, Duncan studied for

xii Contributors

an MA in Clinical Education at the UCL Institute of Education. Duncan delivers postgraduate training for foundation doctors and specialty trainees in EM, and runs undergraduate modules, including those focused on ‘Preparation for Practice’. He is the co-chair of the Royal College of Emergency Medicine’s Careers Group. Dr Selena Chan is an educational developer at Ara Institute of Canterbury, New Zealand. She works with staff to develop and design programmes of study, implement technology-enhanced learning and undertakes vocational education research. Her ongoing research, teaching and learning have been recognised with various awards, notably the 2007 NZ Prime Minister’s Supreme Excellence in Tertiary Teaching award. Much of her work includes building capability towards enhancing the scholarship of vocational learning. She publishes on understanding how apprentices ‘learn a trade’, including aspects of craftsmanship, judgement and practice. She has also recently published in the areas of occupational identity formation through apprenticeship and tablet-based mobile learning. Melinda Hall is an academic in the School of Health and Life Sciences at Federation University Australia. Melinda completed a master’s degree in 2016 with a strong focus on work-based learning (WBL) experiences for exercise and sport science students. Melinda has presented her research at the Exercise and Sports Science Australia National Conference, the Australian Collaborative Education Network Conference and the 20th World Council and Assembly on Cooperative Education Conference. Her research continues to focus on the impact of WBL experiences on exercise and sport science students, specifically the development of industry attributes and career choices. Konstantinos Karanasios received his MSc in Organic Agriculture from Wageningen University, the Netherlands, and his MSc in Agricultural Engineering from the Agricultural University of Athens, Greece. He currently is a doctoral candidate (PhD) in the School of Education of Eindhoven University of Technology, the Netherlands. His research interests pertain to the fields of agricultural entrepreneurship, entrepreneurship education and multifunctional farming. Dr Thomas Lans is Assistant Professor in Education and Competence Studies, Wageningen University, the Netherlands. His research interests include entrepreneurship education and (situated) entrepreneurial learning. Thomas’s work has been published over the last decade in educational and entrepreneurship journals including Management Learning, The International Small Business Journal, European Journal of Education and HRDQ. For the latter he was the lead author of a paper on entrepreneurial learning that won the 2016 best paper award. Most recently he was the guest editor of a special issue on entrepreneurship education for Education Research International.

Contributors xiii

Concerning education, he is involved in several (European) entrepreneurship education projects and coordinates the MSc entrepreneurship track for Wageningen University. Dr Lorenz Lassnigg is Senior Researcher at the Institute of Advanced Studies (IHS) in Vienna, Austria, and a member of the research group equi: in Equality and Education (www.equi.at). His areas of research are education policy and governance in education, anticipation of educational demands, and vocational and adult education. He has widely published in this area (contributions can be found at www.equi.at/en/team/Lorenz+Lassnigg/1), and provided consultancy to previous Austrian governments, the EU and international organisations (OECD, ILO). More recent publications are the co-edited books Myths and Brands in Vocational Education (2015) and Vision Austria 2050 (2015), and a review article, “Competence-based Education and Educational Effectiveness” (2016). Dr Sai Loo is an academic at UCL Institute of Education, University College London, England. His areas of research interests are in the interdisciplinary approaches of identifying, defining and applying knowledge in work, learning and teaching settings. He has published widely in more than 100 publications, conference papers and keynotes (84 percent are single authored), which can be accessed at ioe.academia.edu/SaiLoo. His recent research monographs by Routledge include Creative Working in the Knowledge Economy (2017), Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy (2017), Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education (2018) and Further Education, Professional and Occupational Pedagogy: Knowledge and Experiences (2019). Dr Katrina Morrison has been a Lecturer in Criminology at Edinburgh Napier University, Scotland, since 2012, and has been employed as a fixedterm researcher at the Scottish Prison Service supporting the professionalisation agenda since 2016. She publishes on the different influences (political, expert knowledge, public opinion and democratic pressures) that influence Scottish criminal justice policy and practice, and on organisational learning and professionalisation. Professor Erica Smith is Professor of Vocational Education and Training (VET) at Federation University Australia’s Ballarat campus. Erica is co-chair of International Network of Innovative Apprenticeship (INAP), the international apprenticeship research network. She has had previous experience in industry and as a teacher and manager in the Australian VET sector. She has managed many national and international research projects in the following main areas: apprenticeship, training policy, training in workplaces, VET teacher education, competency-based training and students’ part-time working careers. Erica makes many invited contributions to government policy and practice in her areas of expertise.

xiv Contributors

Dr Linda Sweet is an experienced registered nurse and midwife in clinical practice, research, management and education. She is Head of Teaching Section Midwifery and Higher Degree by Research Coordinator, College of Nursing and Health Sciences, Flinders University, Australia. She has a strong focus on health professional education through both her teaching and research, presenting in Australia, the Pacific nations and in Indonesia. She is the deputy editor of Women and Birth. Dr  Claire Thurgate is Head of the School of Public Health, Midwifery and Social Work and Director of the Centre for Work-Based Learning and Continuing Development at Canterbury Christ Church University, England. She has extensive experience working with health and care employers to design and deliver flexible, work-based learning programmes to address workforce needs. Claire is currently working with local healthcare providers to deliver the new nursing associate role and higher and degree apprentices. Her research interests include enabling work-based learning, effective learning in the workplace and the impact of the nursing associate role.

Acknowledgements

This research monograph is a realisation of an earlier one, Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy. The previous book advocates a move away from the artificial constructions of vocational education and training in the further education sector to a more encompassing approach in both education sectors and geographical locations. It uses occupational practice as a bridge to understanding, researching and connecting with other work-related education and training programmes such as those in the higher education sector and professional education.This current book on occupational practice or landscape offers chapters from practitioners and deliverers across the work spectrum and countries. I am very grateful to these contributors in, hopefully, creating a new research pathway to understanding the occupational practice. I am indebted to Professor Erica Smith, who has made a very significant impact on the preparation of this edited research monograph. She was the coeditor for much of the preparation period, and I would like to thank her for her professional and unflappable contribution to this book from offering editorial advice, locating reviewers and much more. I would like to thank yet again the Routledge editors, Aiyana Curtis and Emilie Coin, and sub-editor, Will Bateman, for their continuing support of my proposals – the fifth one to date. Without the significant contributions from the reviewers, this edited research monograph would not have had the careful and professional input it deserved. Therefore a massive thank you for their contributions to this book. They are Dr Gordon Ade-Ojo, Dr Rola Ajjawi, Professor Stephen Billett, Dr Kerry Boardman, Dr Marg Camilleri, Julie Castledine, Associate Professor Jerry Courvisanos, Dr Jill Downing, Professor Michael Gessler, Professor Philip Gonon and Professor Roger Harris. Other reviewers include Associate Professor Andrew Hope, Dr Jayden Hunter, Dr Linda Jones, Associate Professor Nicola Johnson, Associate Professor Nichola Lowe, Casey Mainsbridge, Associate Professor Marg Malloch, Dr Blake Peck, Dr Christina Sadowski, Professor Erica Smith, Professor Bonnie Watt and Associate Professor Leesa Wheelahan.

Chapter 1

Researching occupational practice Sai Loo

Making a case for the study and research of ‘Occupational Education’ The inspiration for this research monograph came from an earlier monograph, Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy (Loo and Jameson, 2017). This collection of contributions on Vocational Education and Training by experts suggests an ambitious overhaul of the way we think about work-related education. Jameson and Loo (2017, pp. 138–139) suggest such a potential for an integrated vocational/occupational/professional education system calls for research investigations into new further and higher pathways across the currently divided higher and further sectors for the advancement of scientific, industrial, creative and innovatory business professions in the knowledge economy, completely reconceptualising and transforming the ‘English model’ for a new future. Specifically, we identify that English VET provision has tended to be overly dominated by central state intervention in the past few decades, that it tends to be less effective as regards learner and employment outcomes than provision in ‘dual system’ countries and it has tended to be driven by supplier-side economic policies rather than demand-led learner interests. It has been measured more by economic interests and targets rather than through individually focused learner goals. It has tended to be voluntaristic as regards employer accountability and has insufficiently involved community and social partners in VET policy formation and delivery. Those involved in the English model, we argue, can learn much from an international comparison. The statement, though somewhat lengthy, offers this research monograph intellectual signposts for pursuing. First, it calls for an ‘integrated education system’ encompassing vocational, occupational and professional forms of learning and teaching. This monograph offers all three of these systems, including apprenticeships, Vocational Education and Training, and first-degree and professional education from Australia, Austria, England, Greece, New Zealand and

2  Sai Loo

Scotland. Concerning the ‘division of higher and further education sectors’, the monograph actively seeks commonalities between the sectors. Regarding the references to ‘scientific, industrial, creative and innovatory business professions’, the chapters on apprenticeships (Chapter 2), fitting/machining and concrete operations (Chapter 3), other trades (Chapter 4), healthcare (Chapters 5, 7 and 10), accountancy (Chapter 5), sports and event management (Chapter 6), business and entrepreneurial activities (Chapter 8), and clinical fields of general practice and emergency medicine (Chapters 11 and 12) offer new understandings. I will not attempt to delineate the shortcomings of the ‘English model’ as others such as Brockmann, Clarke and Winch (2008), Clarke and Winch (2015), Coffield (2006) and Eichlorst, Rodriquez-Planas and Zimmermann (2014) have already discussed. Therefore, the approach of this research monograph is to further the ‘project’ of the earlier monograph and also to open the ground for a possible new area of education. ‘Occupation’ has been used in Loo and Jameson (2017) to include the three academic levels of teaching and learning.With the pre-university level, terms such as Vocational Education and Training (VET), Technical and Further Education (TAFE) (as known in the Australia, New Zealand and the UK) and Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) (UNESCO, 2012) (as recognised internationally) are used in various geographical locations to denote the work-related provisions, though the terms may include provisions in higher education. Indeed, the use of VET in South Africa may encompass the whole gamut of work-related programmes. Occupations may consist of those offers in higher and professional education as illustrated in this collection.There may be three aspects of occupational education (OE): teaching, learning and working.This tripartite approach to investigating this type of pedagogic activity is useful as it bridges both educational and professional practices. Occupational teaching may be defined as the teaching of work-related courses where there is a duality of pedagogic and occupational/work-related practices and experiences, and academic teaching, i.e. where its immediacy is related to disciplinary/theoretical knowledge and not necessarily to occupational pathways, co-exist. The occupational teaching has immediate relevance to work-related experiences and practices whereas the academic teaching has less obvious work connections such as accreditation pathways to related occupations for the former and not necessarily the latter. The former teaching type also has a closer time dimension to work practices (e.g. gas fitting, dental hygiene and clinical practices) and the latter, a not so direct relationship with occupational practices (e.g. astrophysics and mathematics). The time dimension may be represented by factors such as the years of training to be admitted or accredited to a recognised professional body such as the Chartered Institute of Plumbing and Heating Engineering for gas fitters. One may argue that both forms of teaching may rely on varying degrees of life experiences.

Researching occupational practice 3

The final difference relates to the implications of continuous professional development for deliverers of the two teaching forms where those teaching on occupational courses may keep abreast with the teaching and occupational areas whereas with those on academic areas may only require updating in the relevant areas. (Loo, 2018, pp. 4–5) This definition of occupational teaching also includes the possibility of continuous professional development in addition to the dual learning and training of pedagogic and professional/occupational practices. Closely associated with teaching is learning and occupational learning involves the stakeholders in particular learners, institutions, curriculum developers and deliverers in this pedagogic exercise. Occupational practice as defined by Higgs (2012, p. 3) includes the various practices that comprise occupations be they profession, disciplines, vocation or occupations. For doctors, engineers, historians, priests, physicists, musicians, carpenters and many other occupational groups, practice refers to the activities, models, norms, language, discourse, ways of knowing and thinking, technical capacities, knowledge, identities, philosophies and other sociocultural practices that collectively comprise their particular occupation. This definition of occupational practice is helpful as it encompasses workrelated practices that straddle the three academic levels as well as the related sociocultural methods such as stakeholders’ identities, organisational cultures and philosophies. Thus, OE encompasses teaching, learning and working across the three academic levels of TVET, higher education and professional education. It covers continuous professional development (CPD) and training as it is work-related and thus the two elements of occupational practice/work and pedagogic activities are a natural part of the topic. OE is part of the lifelong learning continuum of learning, working and teaching as one expects those in such practices to be involved in ongoing professional development. OE may affect not only the sectors of education (i.e. inter-sectoral partnerships in education), but may also include public and private (private providers of professional training) industries. OE can consist of activities across countries (international) rather than inward looking within a sector such as the Further Education (FE) sector in England where one can detect the current trends of differentiating between VET and technical offers, and localisation and regionalisation of the sector activities. The raison d’etre of OE is to seek commonalities, and to reach out to the research and practitioner communities to collaborate, engage and critically research the tripartite aspects of learning, working and teaching to offer related stakeholders relevant and evidence-based findings that are implementable across

4  Sai Loo

the micro (individual-centred), meso (institution-centred) and macro (regional, national and international-centred) levels of the discipline.

Structuring of the research monograph The ordering of the monograph begins with TVET-related topics, from Chapters 2 to 4, with the Chapter 5 connecting all three academic levels from preuniversity to higher and professional education. Chapters 6 to 9 refer to issues in higher education, and Chapters 10 to 12 relate to clinical practices. Chapter 2 focuses on apprenticeships. Lorenz Lassnigg uses the Austrian apprenticeship system as a case study to investigating VET. He argues that there are two kinds of occupations concerning apprenticeships: training and performed occupations.The former refers to the educational aspects of apprenticeships, and the latter, the employment structure. He suggests that the Austrian system, which he describes as ‘modernised traditionalism’, is unique. Using empirical evidence, Lassnigg sets out how occupational structures may work in a system that builds mainly on occupations. He does this by offering an analysis of the occupational structures in the Austrian apprenticeship system and an analysis of the perspectives of policymakers and stakeholders. In Chapter 3, Erica Smith offers a micro perspective of how manual workers such as fitters/machinists and concrete product operators prepare for these occupations in Australia. Drawing on empirical data from the two Australian states of Queensland and Victoria, Smith argues the male-dominated occupations of fitters and concrete product operators are initially viewed as skilled and unskilled employment respectively. She points out that there are commonalities between the two occupations, even though the two jobs have different training and preparation pathways; for example, fitters require a formal qualification, and operators do not require a qualification. Smith shows that the machinist job has managed to create a powerful brand that is known to the public with a supporting apprenticeship programme unlike that of the concrete operator. Staying with VET in Chapter 4, Selena Chan focuses on trades tutors in New Zealand. They teach on work-related programmes with the aim of preparing and supporting learners into traditional trades such as automotive, building/ carpentry, butchery, engineering/fitting, turning/welding and plumbing. These tutors have the relevant occupational specific experiences. Chan investigates the experiences of the new trades tutors to support their pedagogic development including curriculum formation. She argues, using supporting empirical evidence, that the tutors’ extensive workplace-based approaches of knowing (both explicit and tacit forms) should be recognised to facilitate their transition from an occupational to a teaching environment. Along with this recognition, their occupational identities and life experiences should also inform the curriculum formation and implementation. Chapter 5 offers connections between pedagogic practices across the three academic levels of TVET, higher and professional education. This author

Researching occupational practice 5

investigates the teachers of work-related programmes from an epistemological perspective where knowledge is required to perform teaching activities. Using empirical evidence, Loo constructs a theoretical framework beginning with Bernstein’s (1996) notions of knowledge/discourses classification and recontextualisation to offer a throughput of knowledge acquisition and application from the teaching and occupational dimensions of the deliverers. Loo creates a typology of teaching practices, which draw on the teachers’ pedagogic, occupational and related life experiences. In so doing, he expands the definition of teaching know-how encompassing knowledge, experiences, abilities, and skill sets where explicit and tacit forms are included. The next four chapters offer a change of academic level from TVET to higher education. Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall study the education and training in human movement programmes in Chapter 6. The human movement sector includes sports event management, coaching, facility management, and exercise and sports science. Caldwell and Hall, using empirical data from six Australian higher education institutions, explore how the students prepare for this industry from the stakeholders’ perspectives. These stakeholders include providers, students and industry supervisors.This study is relevant to those who want to understand the students’ transition from learning to working in the human movement industry. Chapter 7 aims at the education of youth workers to enable them to be work ready. Jennifer Brooker, like Caldwell and Hall, focuses on the Australian experience. She uses a university programme as a case study to show how a new model of higher education youth worker pre-service offer at the first-degree level can be created at an Australian higher education institution. Its aim for the learners is to acquire the same skills like those on a vocational education programme. Brooker uses research data to illustrate the appraisals by international youth work reviewers to offer a programme with a balance of theory and practice to ensure that the learners are ready for work and that they have the required knowledge and competencies for work. Chapter 8 provides a different form of learning in times of financial crisis. Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans explore the learning process of a group of entrepreneurs in Greece as new entrants to the agricultural sector under the country’s financial crisis. Using eighteen agri-entrepreneurs as participants, Karanasios and Lans use the critical incidents technique to understanding the factors that affect their learning and becoming involved in the industry. The agricultural industry includes aloe production, buffalo farming, honey production, olive grove farming, legume production and vineyards.They use the 3-P model (presage, process and product factors) of workplace learning to identify twenty-six work-related learning factors. Staying in Europe, Chapter 9 by Katrina Morrison turns her focus to Scotland and targets the learning of prison officers. Morrison offers a study of the professionalisation of the Scottish Prison Service in which she argues that the learning of this occupation relates to the ‘affective domain’, which includes

6  Sai Loo

values, attitudes and behaviours that are the features of an Officer Foundation Programme. This programme is mandatory training for new prison officers. Using the timeline approach of gathering empirical evidence from the recruits at the start and end of the training, Morrison offers insights into the challenges of how affective learning may be integrated into the new training programme. The next three contributions offer insights into the professional education of clinicians. In Chapter 10, Claire Thurgate studies the transition of healthcare assistants to assistant practitioners.The location of this study is England with the backdrop of the National Health Service (NHS) in a financial crisis. Thurgate investigates the work-based learning of pre-qualifying professionals within the healthcare industry who complete a programme of learning which centres on the needs of the workplace and role development while remaining at work. This professional qualification and thus its study comes at the time when there is a distinct development at the NHS to an employer-led workforce. Using empirical evidence, Thurgate constructs a conceptual framework that describes the journey from a healthcare assistant to an assistant practitioner. Chapter 11 offers another clinical study – that of medical students learning in their clinical experiences – by Stephen Billett and Linda Sweet. Their geographical location of this contribution is Australia. Billett and Sweet view participatory practices as a two-dimensional engagement of individuals participating in social institutions and the manner in which these individuals choose to learn in the settings. They use the notion of ‘relational interdependence’ to understand how these medical students carry out their learning concerning the perceptions of the medical education, their relationships with learning and the ways of learning engagement. Billett and Sweet, drawing on interview data from thirteen medical students, offer a greater understanding of the learners’ experiences and accounts of the consequences of their learning in the clinical environments. The penultimate chapter, Chapter 12, by Duncan Thomas Carmichael, focuses on the decision making of emergency medicine (EM) physicians. Carmichael grounds his study and empirical evidence from participants in England. EM is a specialism which involves the diagnosis and management of the full array of acute illness or injury. The UK Emergency Department is a fertile proving ground for the practice and learning of this area of medicine. Using qualitative data from trainers and trainees, Carmichael offers insights into the useful role of workplace based learning in the development of the physicians’ skills and experiences, especially in decision making. Carmichael argues that in offering differing perspectives on decision making, education and practice in EM, the chapter helps to inform these clinicians in understanding and supporting their learning in this socially situated area of clinical practice. The final chapter – Chapter 13 – draws on the eleven contributions to offer overviews of their findings, conclusions and implications for OE across the three academic levels.The commonalities and diversities of occupation education are

Researching occupational practice 7

delineated along with the multidimensional aspects of this research monograph. The chapter uses related publications to ground this area of research and suggests that it marks the beginning of a new field of learning and research. Alongside these discussions will be identifications of areas for further research and looking further into the future, indicate possible areas of global collaborations resulting from some the chapter contributions.

References Bernstein, B. (1996). Pedagogy, Symbolic Control and Identity:Theory, Research, Critique. London: Taylor and Francis. Brockmann, M., Clarke, L. and Winch, C. (2008). Knowledge, skills, competence: European divergences in vocational education and training (VET) – the English, German and Dutch cases. Oxford Review of Education, 34(5), 547–567. Clarke, L. and Winch, C. (2015). Have Anglo-Saxon concepts really influenced the development of European qualifications policy? Research in Comparative and International Education, 10, 593–606. Coffield, F. (2006). Running Ever Faster down the Wrong Road: An Alternative Future for Education and Skills. Inaugural Lecture at the Institute of Education, 5 December 2006. London: Institute of Education, University of London. Eichlorst, W., Rodriquez-Planas, N. and Zimmermann, K.F. (2014). A Roadmap to Vocational Education and Training Around the World. Bonn: Literaturverz. http://www.iza.org/conference_fi les/worldb2014/1551.pdf (Accessed 12 August 2014). Higgs, J. (2012). Practice-based education:The practice-education-context-quality nexus. In: Higgs, J., Barnett, R., Billett, S., Hutchings, M. and Trede, F. (Eds.) Practice-Based Education: Perspectives and Strategies (Practice, Education,Work and Society). Rotterdam: Sense Publishers, pp. 3–12. Jameson, J. and Loo, S. (Eds.). (2017). Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy. Abingdon: Routledge. Loo, S. (2018). Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Loo, S. and Jameson, J. (Eds.). (2017). Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy. Abingdon: Routledge. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Culture Organization (UNESCO). (2012). Building Skills for Work and Life. 3rd UNESCO TVET Congress, Shanghai, 16 May 2012.

Chapter 2

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – a necessary and complex ingredient of the ‘Dual’ apprenticeship frameworks Lorenz Lassnigg

Introduction Currently, at the global level of education policy, the German type of dual apprenticeship has gained much attention as a blueprint for successful educational structures. Occupations are core institutional elements of such an education and training structure, but they do not receive much attention in political discourses – this element is rather somehow taken for granted. This chapter argues that indeed the functioning of an apprenticeship system depends essentially on its occupational structure, and moreover, that much confusion exists around this dimension, leading to misunderstandings about the institutional ingredients of apprenticeships. A main point is that occupations are mostly perceived as aspects of employment, constituting certain patterns of learning and training needs, to which education has to respond. The policy makers thus would have to detect the needs at the employment side correctly (the occupational demand), and to build the appropriate learning environments at the education side (the educational supply), and to provide a match between the two sides. Apprenticeship is special in that the two dimensions overlap: learning mostly takes place in employment, and occupations structure both sides simultaneously. Occupational structuring means to create relatively stable demarcations between different collections of occupational tasks and competences, and to name them differently; the names of these collections or bundles then carry substantial information for the various actors involved in the system. In apprenticeship an occupation constitutes a whole framework of formal regulations (curricula or training requirements, examination rules and systems, credentials for the labour market, etc.), thus it can be named as the core institutional element of this kind of vocational education and training (VET). This sets two formal requirements: first, there is no apprenticeship without an occupation; and second, there must necessarily be a formal agreement or constitution of an occupation (an essential ‘occupation’ in employment constituted by habit, or by statistical conventions does not suffice). The overlap between the demand and supply sides, and the need to institutionally draw the demarcations, further lead to the question of how a formally defined occupation relates to those sides, and how the earlier mentioned

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 9

matching-mechanism of detecting needs and providing appropriate learning/ teaching works in this system. The main argument brought forward is that with respect to apprenticeship a differentiation of two kinds of occupations is necessary that simultaneously catch the overlap and the difference of the two sides, training occupations (Ausbildungsberufe) and performed occupations (Ausübungsberufe).1 In the relationship between the two, the former are part of the educational structure, whereas the latter are part of the employment structure. In contrast to a profession, where a credential is necessary for performing (and thus often also provides exclusive rights for performing, e.g., nurses, doctors, judges, lawyers, certain technicians), an apprenticeship occupation is detached from a performing occupation, in that access depends on a certain probability of being selected by an employer which is quite free in creating the conditions and demarcations of performing occupations (exclusive rights are to some degree related to a self-employed career in certain performed occupations, however, also with much degree of intermediaries). As a result of this relationship, the structure and distribution of training occupations might differ widely from the structure and distribution of performed occupations, and the training occupations resemble systematically rather to an academic discipline (which has also this double structure) than to a ‘real’ occupation in employment. What will be shown by the analysis is that these mechanisms work differently in apprenticeship from school-based vocational education as well as from professions and higher education. A main difference from the perspective of policy making is that the institutional requirements in apprenticeship are much more demanding and complex than in the other kinds of structures. Because in most overall education and training environments the different structures co-exist in parallel, and interact somehow, a further question arises, of how the different structures might influence each other: If a strong apprenticeship system exists, do the school and professional structures look different? If it does not exist, how would its establishment or emergence influence or been influenced by existing structures? More recent research about Collective Skills Systems has developed an institutional approach towards the analysis of dual apprenticeship from the perspective of political economy; however, the occupational dimension, and the interplay of collective skills systems with higher education, professions or state school systems have not been tackled with much attention.2 The alternative Task Approach of decomposing occupations in contemporary human capital economics does not take into account the institutional structures, and follows an elaborate matching philosophy. The analysis takes the Austrian structure as a case (refer to the box that follows for further explanation). This structure is in several aspects unique, in that it combines apprenticeship, state VET schools and colleges, layered higher education and dense professions, and provides a kind of ‘modernized traditionalism’.The next section gives some key theoretical propositions about the concept of occupations, followed by a structural analysis of the occupational dimension in Austrian apprenticeship (with some reference to the German and Swiss structures), as well as an analysis of the policy makers’ and stakeholders’ perspectives.

10  Lorenz Lassnigg

Basic elements of apprenticeship in Austria Overall structure

The Austrian apprenticeship system has much in common with the dual type of vocational education (VET) in Germany and Switzerland. However, a main difference is that the Austrian VET structure also comprises full-time state VET schools in parallel to apprenticeship, that enrol more than half of VET students and provide the upper level qualifications (Level 5 EQF). Apprenticeship provides mainly Level 3 and is situated at the lower end of the distribution. Basic elements of apprenticeship

• Apprentices conclude an employment and training contract with an individual employer. Employers have free discretion to select their apprentices; the only condition is completion of compulsory school age (15 years). The contract provides access to the system and is the basis of all further legal and institutional requirements. Its duration is mostly three years, and it is concluded for a regulated occupation. • Training occupations are regulated by law, and they are the basic unit of the system.Training regulations exist for each occupation that specify tasks/competences that must be acquired; a modular structure allows for combinations of elements across specified different occupations (the smaller part of apprentices are enrolled in modular occupations). Occupations are renewed time and again, driven by voluntaristic political decisions. • Apprentices earn a wage that is negotiated with the collective agreements between employers’ and employees’ representatives. The wage increases from the beginning to the end of the period. Labour law and regulations are applied to the apprentices, including employment security that makes it difficult after an initial period to fire an apprentice (this is a highly contested political issue). • Apprentices are required to attend a part-time compulsory VET school on a day or block release scheme. The amount of this schooling is mostly one day per week or its equivalent, and this amount is uniform for occupations and legally regulated. • Employers have to be accredited as training enterprises. This accreditation is overseen by the economic chamber, and the conditions are quite loose and formal. (Accreditation is a point of political disagreement, as employees’ organizations plea for more selectivity.) A short course about conditions of apprenticeship training is part of the

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 11

•

•

masters examinations required for the official accreditation of an apprenticeship trainer. A set of conditions is given for training enterprises: in particular, they must employ a certain number of accredited trainers related to the number of apprentices. However, in normal work practice each employee may supervise the apprentices. Apprenticeship is terminated after a legally fixed time. A system of final examinations provides the credentials for this system. These exams are organized by the economic chambers and contain theoretical and practical parts (the credentials of the part-time school are accepted as the theoretical part).

Theoretical and conceptual considerations Occupation is a multifaceted social dimension. A main aspect in a sociological perspective has been occupation’s normative role in social integration from Durkheim and Weber to Parsons. This inspired the theorizing of professionalism and has important implications for educational theorizing. Another aspect is the role of social coordination and control started in the historical (long-lasting) apprenticeships of mediaeval guilds, which included the power of the master and the effective control of the number of craftsmen through the regulation of access to the performed occupations. In the economic perspective reform of apprenticeship, occupation was always a topic of reforms towards the liberalization of the market during the 19th century emerging capitalism, providing wider and easier market access. From these historical legacies conveyed since the famous criticism by Adam Smith, the discourse about apprenticeship has carried a strong touch of authoritarian paternalism and lack of flexibility or institutional rigidity.3 A more recently emphasized aspect is the symbolic nature of occupations and their role at the communicative and information processing dimension of coordination between education and employment (e.g., Kurtz 2013). From the mid-20th century the increasing emergence of statistical description and control established the growing occupational classifications that has provided some quantitative insight into the distribution and development of performed occupations as neutral descriptive categories (which have until now become a standard part of globalized statistical information systems; Blau and Duncan 1967). At the policy level this information became a source of reasoning about the coordination and matching of supply and demand of ‘manpower’ qualifications and ‘human capital’ during the 1960s. With the emergence of digital instruments comprehensive cataloguing systems of occupational categories were developed that can be used for analytic as well as coordinating purposes.4

12  Lorenz Lassnigg

Along with those empirical descriptions of performed occupations, the theoretical discourse predominantly shifted towards the topic of professionalization. Destabilizing and hollowing out processes of turning occupations into (low-skilled) work and (temporary) jobs taking the normative loading out on the one hand and occupational change on the other became main topics in this field. These aspects were strongly emphasized in the German discourses about De-Occupationalization (Entberuflichung) and the crisis of the dual apprenticeship system in the 1980s and 1990s (Dostal 2002; Baethge and Baethge-Kinsky 1998). Interestingly, we can find a parallel emphasis on de-occupationalization and the professionalization of everyone (Wilensky 1964). The digitalization further destabilizes the occupational structures by sidestepping the existing institutions and constituting new structures (Zysman and Kenney 2015; Kenney and Zysman 2016). Current conceptual approaches either see occupations as a descriptive variable among others (sectors, qualifications, ethnicity, etc.) situated between education and employment treated as separate systems or fields that are to some extent mediated by markets and to some extent coordinated by policies (we can term this as matching approach). This now commonplace and overflowing matching approach is allocating occupations clearly to the employment side, constituting the needs, and resulting in the discourses about ‘matching’ between skills and jobs (e.g., Flisi et al. 2014; EC 2015). A more demanding alternative theoretical approach sees occupations as a unique border phenomenon somehow linking the two separate systems (we can call this the coupling approach). This much more abstract system-theoretic concept sees occupations as an emergent ‘two-sided-form’ providing structural coupling between education and employment as separate autopoietic social systems that cannot directly influence each other (Kurtz 2013). This reasoning gives the occupations a key role in a generalized understanding of how coupling mechanisms between separate systems that function only on their own logic and resonate to other systems as part of their environment can be systematically conceptualized. The two-sided form is seen as a bridging device that relates certain elements of the two different systems to each other; the problem with this approach might be an abstract overgeneralization of occupations, which might obscure more diverse concrete roles that occupations might play. Whether the concepts of boundary crossing and boundary objects might be applicable to the relationship between education and employment seems open to the author at the moment (e.g., Akkerman and Bakker 2011). The more recent approaches of qualifications frameworks try to find a common ground between education and employment to fulfil the information requirements for the matching mechanisms. In European policies the description of learning outcomes in terms of knowledge, skills and competencies has been proposed as a mediating device common to both sides (occupations and educational credentials). The learning content that has been always included

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 13

in the holistic concept of occupations is made more explicit by the symbolic system of learning outcomes and thus more directly related to education and learning processes. However, this shift, often related to the concepts of modularization, also might open up the holistic nature of the occupational bundles and shift the focus more to the single elements included. Therefore the concepts of a more formal disclosure of learning outcomes and modularization are seen as comprising a destruction of the dual apprenticeship system that is focused on the holistic bundles rather than on the single elements (see the contributions by Clarke and Winch 2006; Brockmann, Clarke and Winch 2008; Clarke, Winch and Brockmann 2013; Lassnigg 2012a). More policy-related analyses of the relationships between education and employment have fundamentally questioned the logic of the matching approach by stating a structuring role of education and qualifications for the occupational structure rather than the other way round (Bouder et al. 2009; Lassnigg 2008, 2011). This view is particularly corroborated if the essential time dimension is taken into account. The detection of current skills needs in order to improve matching of demand and supply at a synchronous point in time is not sufficient for educational planning that must be oriented to the future needs. The future needs cannot be detected but can only be anticipated, which necessarily includes a substantial component of creative designing the supply. The detection of needs can never be a purely objective technical endeavour. This is underlined if the processes of change and innovation are taken into account, which occur within occupational fields as well as in the distribution between occupational fields. Therefore needs are distributed, and different and conflicting interests arise among the involved stakeholders. This is true for the current state, if employers compete for different kinds of qualifications, and even more for the future, when expectations and uncertainty come into play. In particular if supply is relatively scarce, various forms of competition arise between traditional and innovative employers as well as between sectors. For the coordination of employment and education this means that will be always a cacophony of many different and partly conflicting signals about current and future needs, and practices and mechanisms must be found of how to cope with this. Information is a necessary ingredient, and symbolic structures organize information in some way. This means that education cannot directly react to needs, but requires some kind of structuring and organization of these needs, with symbolic structures and related political discourses being elements of solutions. The institutionalized occupations on both sides – training and performing – play both symbolic and discursive roles in these practices and mechanisms. They are symbolically bundling needs within their demarcations, and through the organizations of their members also provide platforms for professional and political discourses and negotiation of interests. The diverse and conflicting interests within and between occupational fields spurred by change and innovation constantly lead to differences between the changes on the ground and the symbolic

14  Lorenz Lassnigg

forms fixed at the institutional level.Thus occupations spontaneously have a stabilizing function and a tendency to privilege the traditional vis-à-vis the innovative elements; in particular the creation of new occupations is difficult because of the abundance of preconditions. The current analysis of the political economy of collective skills formation (Busemeyer, Trampusch 2011) points to the politicization of these systems, as the various involved stakeholders at the demand and supply side of the economy (employers and employees), as well as the various actors in the education structures, must somehow resolve their conflicts of interests. As a broad scientific concept about dual apprenticeship a collective skills system reconciles private and public interests (employers, employees and their organizations, state institutions, etc.) and actors in a common structure of regulations that also builds on mixed financing. The separation of the two kinds of occupations in apprenticeship arises from two basic issues: first, the high degree of responsibility of the (private) enterprises involved in the provision of transferrable education and training needs legitimization for securing the necessary public trust (this legitimization is provided by the quasi-objective status of the occupations); and second, the purposes of apprenticeship in industry provided for future wage-earning employees transcends the highly individualized education model in the field of (frequently self-employed) professions. This requires security about the worth and transferability of the credentials on the side of the completers of apprenticeship and at the same time requires flexibility with the employment of the completers on the side of employers. The difference between training occupations and performed occupations allows the enterprises to select their employees, with the credential of an apprenticeship occupation creating the signals for the employers’ selection procedures. However, this does not at all create a right for employment in the related performed occupation (thus empirically only a loose relationship between training and performed occupations appears). The industrial relations, collective bargaining and labour laws apply to the performed occupation, not to the training occupation.The latter are relevant in the industrial relations of the apprentices, as their wages are separately negotiated in collective bargaining.The flexibility lies in the difference between the training occupation and the performed occupation, and the substantial mobility between these two.Thus the often-­mentioned inflexibility of apprenticeship systems in international discussions mostly owes to a confusion of training occupations with performed occupations, and the rigidity involved in industrial relation systems that have provided a right to be employed in the performed occupation (e.g., the former US tradition of numerical flexibility of ‘last in and first out’, which also included a right to be employed at the former workplace occupation if re-employed after temporary lay-offs; see Piore 1986). The category of occupational labour markets beside the distinction of firm internal and external labour markets in the segmented labour market approach (Sengenberger 1987, pp. 126–149 occupational labour

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 15

% of total (N=1.574,4 T.) 50%

62%/ 71%

21%/ 24%

40%

% of selfemp (N=181,8 T.)

17%/ 5%

30% 20% 10%

3%/ 6%

3%/ 4%

24%/ 20% 15%/ 9%/ 14% 1%

8%/ 9%/ 3% 2%

0%

1 Manag (43,4 T.) 2 Acad (44,3 T.) 3 Tech (236,7 T.) 4 Admin (144,8 T.) 5 Serv (334,5 T.) 6 AgrFor (64,7 T.) 7 Cra (395,8 T.) 8 Manufact (146,1 T.) 9 Unskill (123,5 T.) 10 Milit (4,6 T.)

0%

25% 4%/ 22% 28%

% selfemployed within groups

3%

10%

3%

4%

0%

7%

Total

10%

10 Milit (4,6 T.)

3 Tech (236,7 T.)

2 Acad (44,3 T.)

1 Manag (43,4 T.)

0%

2%

9 Unskill (123,5 T.)

17% 10%

8 Manufact (146,1 T.)

27%

79%

7 Cra (395,8 T.)

25%

13%

6 AgrFor (64,7 T.)

50%

14%

5 Serv (334,5 T.)

75%

4 Admin (144,8 T.)

100%

Figure 2.1 O ccupational categories of completers of apprenticeship in Austria (2016) Notes: Estimated absolute numbers are in brackets (thousand persons). Original names of occupational categories: 1 Führungskräfte, 2 Akademische sowie vergleichbare Berufe, 3 Techniker und gleichrangige nichttechnische Berufe, 4 Bürokräfte und verwandte Beruf, 5 Dienstleistungsberufe und Verkäufer, 6 Fachkräfte in Land- und Forstwirtschaft und Fischerei, 7 Handwerks- und verwandte Berufe, 8 Bediener von Anlagen und Maschinen und Montageberufe, 9 Hilfsarbeitskräfte and 10 Angehörige der regulären Streitkräfte. Source: Statistics Austria, Stat.Cube, Labour Force Survey, and the author’s search on 23.2.2018.

markets, and Eichhorst and Tobsch 2013 regarding Germany; see also Doeringer and Piore 1971; Reich, Gordon and Edwards 1973; Dickens and Lang 1992; Leontaridi 1998) has implicitly included this difference, and was therefore an ideal-typical concept and always blurred empirically. The occupational labour markets needed the signal from the training occupation, however, and

16  Lorenz Lassnigg

were situated rather on the level of the performed occupation, with additional entry points into internal labour markets. If completers of apprenticeship did not succeed in transforming their training occupation into their performed occupation, they often moved to the un-skilled or semi-skilled external labour markets based on informal learning and qualifications. Figure 2.1 illustrates the distribution of the economically active stock of completers of apprenticeship across occupational categories. About 7%5 are self-employed; that proportion grossly reflects the amount of upgrading to the masters’ status, which is mandatory for access to the ownership of an enterprise in several occupations (this proportion is exceptionally high in agriculture and forestry at 79%). The distribution across the three labour market segments can be grossly illustrated by the sums across certain occupational groups. The size of occupational labour markets in which about 60% of completers of apprenticeship (28% of self-employed in agriculture/forestry, and 43% of selfemployed in other manufacturing or service trades) are working is indicated by the crafts, service, administrative and agricultural occupations. The managerial, professional and technical occupations that comprise 21% of total (24% of selfemployed) represent the primary and internal segment, and 17% of completers are employed in un-skilled or semi-skilled secondary labour markets, which is a quite substantial amount of workers that have left the occupational segment. A main proposition of this theoretical consideration that will be corroborated by the analysis is that the systematic status of the training occupations is not based on the employment side of ‘real’ performed occupations: they are in fact educational programmes, situated at the educational side, having a similar quality as the academic disciplines or the programmes of VET schools or colleges.6 As the main part of education and training takes part in the enterprises, this quality of the training occupations creates two main kinds of tensions to the performed occupations, first at the level of the work based instructional and learning practices, when differences between training and performed occupations emerge, and second at the level of the individual apprentices’ allocation and mobility processes, when training places cannot be filled, or completers cannot find jobs. Empirically, we can ask how the occupational structures operate in the governance of apprenticeship, and how policies and policy makers cope with the tensions that arise at the occupational dimension of apprenticeship.

The occupational structures in Austrian apprenticeship and the perspectives of main stakeholders Basic structures: trade act, apprenticeship in national industries and small-state corporatism

Historically, two main legacies in Austrian apprenticeship exist: the first is its rooting in old guilds, and the second is the boost of apprenticeship during

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 17

the occupation by the German Nazi regime from 1938 to 1945 (Lassnigg 2016a). The guilds legacy has been transformed into the Trade laws of the 19th century whose regulatory descendants are still the core legal foundations of the apprenticeship system (Trade Act [Gewerbeordnung] 1994).7 The second legacy has given apprenticeship a new weight in the duality between full-time VET institutions and enterprise-based apprenticeship, as the focus of the VET reform during the late 19th century laid in the school sector – in particular the state engineering schools, which were perceived as main instruments of industrial innovation. Apprenticeship worked rather as a weakly regulated structure at local level attached to traditional trades, including a weak structure of part-time schooling. The German laws made the school part of apprenticeship mandatory for all young people otherwise out of school and established apprenticeship in the often German-owned large enterprises (that were partly newly founded, and partly taken away from Jewish owners). After the liberation in 1945 the German-owned enterprises were nationalized, and thus apprenticeship in the industrial sector was strongly allocated to the national industry. The main part of apprenticeship thus remained attached to the small enterprises in the traditional trades, a key characteristic of the Austrian structure (where this trait is even more pronounced than in the German and Swiss structures). The larger industrial enterprises in Austria have relied much on the network of the upperlevel full-time VET institutions, which was substantially strengthened and extended in two waves from the 1950s on. The main organizational ingredient of contemporary Austrian apprenticeship is the pronounced corporatist structure of governance that serves as the backbone of processing the occupational structure (see Katzenstein 1985; Traxler, Blaschke and Kittel 2001). Austria has been characterized as lean corporatism, as it emerged in an almost completely informal way between the dominant political parties (Christian-Democrats ÖVP and Social Democrats SPÖ) and the organizations of the social partners (the chambers of labour and commerce and the trade unions and the federation of industries). The chambers of employers and employees have long-standing legal status, were recently included in the constitution and are based on compulsory membership. The trade unions and the federation of industries are private organizations; however, the results of collective bargaining are widely extended to non-members of the trades. How are the institutions of corporatism involved in apprenticeship and its occupational structure? The Trade Act (1994, with many amendments passed since then) comprehensively and extensively defines economic activity, and its basic occupational structure, including terms as characteristic tasks, work processes, materials, tools and machinery, historical development and discourses (paragraph 29),8 learning outcomes, necessary knowledge, skills, experiences and competences (paragraphs 16 and 20). More than 100 trades are explicitly stated and described with a basic mission of the enforcement of the compulsory membership to the economic chamber and its highly differentiated structure of

18  Lorenz Lassnigg

sub-units (Fachorganisationen). The minister of economic affairs9 is responsible for the administration (the labour minister10 has to be heard for some aspects), and the economic chambers (lying in the minister’s jurisdiction) are legally responsible for the masters’ examinations or certificates of competence as a key access requirement to the majority of trades (paragraphs 21 and 22). The structure, content and organization of the examinations11 are regulated. Completion of the apprenticeship exam is accepted as part of the masters’ exam. The sub-units of the economic chamber create the individual exam regulations (Verordnung) that include the necessary learning outcomes in terms of knowledge, skills and competences (the nomenclature of the European and National Qualifications Frameworks [E/NQF] is used in the law), the chamber of labour has to be heard, and the minister of economic affairs must publish the exam regulation in the official law gazette (RIS Rechtsinformationssystem). In sum the Trade Act sets the basic occupational structure by defining the trades and the responsible institutions. In addition, the regulation underlines the key importance of education and training by setting the access requirements through documented experiences and learning outcomes, formulated in terms of the Qualifications Frameworks. The symbolic demarcations of occupations (which are grossly synonymous to the trades) are given by the Trade Act and further delimited by the specific structure of Austrian corporatism based on the compulsory membership to the highly differentiated economic chambers.12 Table 2.1 gives some information about the basic structure. There are 97 occupational branches that exist at the federal and the regional levels (97 * 9 = 873 regional units plus the 97 federal sub-units give 970 sub-units, represented by the functionaries and staff, with overlaps between regional and federal units). Membership is related to the regional levels, so enterprises represented all over Austria might be included up to nine times as members; because of the differentiated occupational structure enterprises might also belong to more than one sub-unit. A big quantitative difference exists between the numbers of members (640.000) and the firms acting as employers (150.000), in addition there are many one-person enterprises without employees: the average number of employees per employer is 15, ranging between 9 in tourism/leisure and around 130 in industry and banking/insurance. The federal sub-units organize on average about 1.500 employers with 24.000 employees, ranging between more than 100 in banking/insurance up to 5.000 in tourism/leisure. About 20% of employers act as training enterprises, for a total of 27.000, with between 30 and 600 in sub-units. This basic information also shows the small average numbers of apprentices per employer (less than one) or per training enterprise (about three apprentices on average, ranging between two in crafts and information/ consulting and 10 in industry) as a main characteristic of Austrian apprenticeship. This means that a high proportion of training enterprises employing less than three apprentices do not take up every year and do routinely train the full range of the programmes; also a separate infrastructure is not created if only one apprentices is trained.

31% 12% 6% 11% 4% 41% 28% 18%

612 217 111 522 50 67 32 277

Train Enterpr/ sub-unit

10.394 7.179 9.699 12.429 4.105 312 146 6.578

Members/ sub-unit

36.766 20.451 2.614 8.173 3.294 13.681 1.160 86.139

Apprentices

53.224 34.178 19.120 28.938 9.336 3.080 776 148.652

Employers

1.362 1.076 238 1.362 412 720 166 888

Appr/subunit

1.971 1.799 1.738 4.823 1.167 162 111 1.532

Employers/ sub-unit

5,5% 4,2% 1,4% 3,3% 1,7% 3,3% 1,2% 3,7%

Appr/ employees

19% 25% 18% 39% 28% 52% 76% 23%

% Employers

0,7 0,6 0,1 0,3 0,4 4,4 1,5 0,6

Appr/ employer

666.167 482.241 190.342 249.115 196.758 417.138 100.791 2.302.552

Employees

2,2 5,0 2,1 2,6 8,2 10,8 5,2 3,2

Appr/train enterpr

24.673 25.381 17.304 41.519 24.595 21.955 14.399 23.738

Employees/ sub-unit

109 6 10 14 3 75 – 217

Ownership appr. occupations

13 14 10 9 21 135 130 15

Employees/ Employer

Source: Author’s compilation from information sheets accessible from www.wko.at/service/ORGANIGRAMM_e.pdf > column 1: divisions > sub-units (Organisationseinheiten) and www.wko.at/service/zahlen-daten-fakten/branchendaten-fachverbaende.html > divisions > sub-units.

16.519 4.131 1.218 3.130 403 1.264 221 26.886

% Train Enterpr/ employers

Training enterprises

Craft Commerce Inform-consult Tourism-leisure Transport Industry Bank-insurance Total

280.644 136.395 106.691 74.575 32.839 5.931 1.019 638.094

27 19 11 6 8 19 7 97

Craft Commerce Inform-consult Tourism-leisure Transport Industry Bank-insurance Total

Active members

No occup. sub-units

Divisions

Table 2.1  The structure of the Austrian Economic Chambers and the embeddedness of apprenticeship

20  Lorenz Lassnigg

A key determinant of apprenticeship is the apprenticeship wage, which is negotiated as part of the collective bargaining process between the economic chambers and the trade unions, regulated in industrial relations. The apprenticeship wage is the main component of costs for enterprises, and related to the productive contributions of apprentices. Apprentices are clearly defined and handled as employees in Austria, thus essentially involved in the regular negotiations and conflicts in industrial relations. At this level the trade unions attend the stage as a main influence.The Austrian trade unions are strongly related to apprenticeship as interest representation of the employees owning this qualification, however, are more strongly related to the larger enterprises, and to more broad occupational categories than the economic chambers. The enterprise training of apprentices is complemented by approximately one day per week compulsory schooling at the part-time school for apprentices (Berufsschule).The law about compulsory schooling13 defines the conditions that depend on the conclusion and duration of an apprenticeship contract between the training enterprise and the apprentice (or the parents before legal age).This type of school is separately regulated and governed from the full-time VET schools, with a focus on the regional level, and includes the common regulations about curricula, personnel, financing, etc. This part lies under the responsibility of the education minister,14 thus coordination is necessary between two federal responsibilities, and between curricula and occupational profiles. A main topic of discourse and conflict between employers’ and employees’ representations is the duration of compulsory schooling separately for each training occupation (mostly between one and two days), which the former tend to limit and the later charge to extend. The debate about the amount of compulsory schooling is related to the issue of training quality, in particular to the question of whether the many small enterprises that employ few apprentices are able to provide the range of required competences. This perennial issue is affected by a lack of transparent mechanisms and tools of quality assurance and quality development; only indirect indicators (as non-completion or failure at the examination) are available, which cannot be clearly attributed to the learning-training conditions vs. the individual apprentices. In effect this issue is part of the industrial conflict, as the quality mechanisms (accreditation of training enterprises, organization of the exams) are mainly under the responsibility of the economic chambers; the chambers of labour have responsibility for checking and complaints – however, without real access to the enterprises, leading in consequence to legal proceedings, and thus conflict. The highly differentiated structure of the economic chambers is confronted by broader structures at the chambers of labour, where the responsibilities are concentrated in one department of the regional chambers for apprentices’ support and protection (Lehrlings- und Jugendschutz).15 In sum, the schooling part tries to transcend to some extent the highly differentiated occupational structure by providing broader competences.16 Until the 1960s the enterprise part of apprenticeship was not specifically regulated, but practiced more or less under auspices of established practices within the Trade Act and the responsibilities of the chambers of commerce. The Vocational

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 21

Education Act (Berufsausbildungsgesetz) was amended in 1969.17 It includes the main regulations of the enterprise part of apprenticeship starting with the definition of the participating actors and governance structure, the training occupations and related curricula, the requirements of the training environment and personnel, etc. The main responsibility for administration was given to the chambers of commerce (they have to establish an administrative unit at the regional level, the Lehrlingsstelle), under the political responsibility of the regions and the ministry of economic affairs. In addition, corporatist advisory councils of the chambers of commerce and of labour have been established at the regional and federal levels,18 reporting to the ministry and the regional administrative units. The part-time schools are not really included in the governance; they are only weakly represented in the federal council through members of the school administration who do not have decision powers. With the occupational regulations the law directly takes up the crafts from the Trade Act, and gives room for additional occupations. The definition of occupations (paragraph 7) is administered by decree through the ministry of the economy, with reforming existing and creating new occupations being a main policy issue contested between the employers’ and the employees’ sides. The main definitional aspects are taken from the Trade Act, and based on these a list of occupations gives the core element on which apprenticeship is based. A normal duration of three years (minimum two years, and maximum four years) is legally defined, and the occupations are further described by the training regulations (Ausbildungsvorschriften, paragraph 8), with the occupational profile (Berufsbild) including the core work tasks, and the necessary skills and knowledge (Fertigkeiten und Kenntnisse) as the main elements; these descriptions are rather wide minimum requirements for the enterprise training. Overall the law includes a detailed regulation of all the core aspects of organizing the apprentice training at the enterprise level, from accreditation, through the environmental and process requirements, till the examinations, and even the conditions for public support; the content is given by the training regulations. In effect, the Vocational Education Act has played a key role in transforming the occupational world given by the Trade Act into the training occupations as the basic units of apprenticeship training. That means that the adaptation to changes in skills demands is processed through two different kinds of channels: first the ongoing modifications and innovations in practical training based on the changes in the work processes in which the apprentices participate, second through modifications of the occupational regulations. Both kinds of adaptations are mainly performed by the actors on the employers’ side from within the system, i.e. the training enterprises and the sub-units of the chambers of commerce, overseen by the minister of the economy (which has been de facto most often related to the chamber of commerce, which in turn has been dominated by the Christian Democratic Party ÖVP, as is the minister of economic affairs).19 In case of conflicting positions the de facto weak representation of the employees’ side in the governance structure, and the high degree of regulation embedded in labour law drives the practices towards legal forms of conflict resolution before the courts.

22  Lorenz Lassnigg

The clear definition of apprenticeship as employment, and its embeddedness in the labour relations and labour law constitutes a strong relationship to the labour market institutions and to labour market policy. The conclusion of an apprenticeship contract by a training enterprise is the main access criteria to training creates a market-like structure, and the public employment service is organizing the apprenticeship market as a separate segment of the labour market, with a specific statistical information and observation system. Finding an apprenticeship and thus creating sufficient training places is an important aspect of educational opportunities for the respective group of young people, in particular in periods of economic downturn. Traditionally apprenticeship has been a practically oriented alternative to school education, often taken up by young people who had not the best experience during their school careers. The enterprises freely define their selection criteria, and no formal educational or grading requirements exist except fulfilling compulsory school age. Leavers from compulsory school who do not find an apprenticeship are classified as unemployed on the apprenticeship market as a segment of the youth labour market; because of the position of apprenticeship at the lower end of the educational hierarchy, the unemployed young people are those having been selected out. In the specific Austrian political environment, combatting youth unemployment has been a very high and common political priority among the main players (political parties and social partners) across different political camps since the 1980s (Lassnigg 2016b). Different kinds of measures supporting the creation of apprenticeships have been developed and implemented that affect the occupational dimension in various ways. A first kind of measure has been incentives for enterprises to create training places and take up disadvantaged young people (e.g., financial premia, or loosening conditions for training); a second was setting up programmes of institutional apprenticeships (the official name of this programme is the somewhat misleading ‘Überbetriebliche Ausbildung’, because the enterprises are not directly involved) mediated and financed through labour market policy that can either bridge the access to regular enterprises through internships and personal support of young people employed with training institutions, or provide full apprenticeships with workshops; a third kind has been measures to support young people with the acquisition of basic or social competences to improve their conditions of finding a training place. In the background of these policies lie questions about the development of supply and demand in apprenticeship occupations. A fourth policy has been to create new occupational profiles. Figure 2.2 illustrates the overall access to apprenticeship in relation to demography since the 1970s. The period 1970–95 shows the demography of the ‘baby boomers’ through the system, with an increase of access to apprenticeships also in the period with the highest numbers of cohorts (1970–80), followed by stable access till 1990. In the period of 1990–95 a kind of regime change seems to take place, with access declining by more than 5 percentage points, and after that more or less

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 23

1,40

demogr 15y appr y1 % y1/15y

1,30 1,20

1,10 1,00 0,90 0,80 0,70

2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017

40%

41%

2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017

1990

1985

48%

1995

45%

47%

1995

46%

1980

1975

50%

1970

0,60 % y1/15y

45%

44%

40%

42% 40%

39% 38%

1990

1985

1980

1975

1970

35%

Figure 2.2  Demography and apprenticeship in Austria 1970–2017 Notes: The upper panel index shows the number of 15-year-olds (demogr 15y), first-year apprentices (appr y1), per cent first year apprentices/number of 15-year-olds (1970 = 1,00). The lower panel shows per cent first year apprentices/number of 15-year-olds. Source: Author’s compilation from WKO Lehrlingsstatistik (http://wko.at/statistik/jahrbuch/ LL_Demo.xlsx).

following demography. If we ask what has changed during 1990–95, we can look after the economic development as a first candidate. Indeed, Figure 2.3 impressively shows a tendency that access to apprenticeship is related to overall unemployment (as an indicator for economic development) over the whole period of 1970–2017 as well as over the period 2000–17. If unemployment goes up, access to apprenticeship tends to go down. Demography is less clearly related, and there are more points where access changes in accordance with demography in the longer as well as in the shorter period. The focusing of labour market policy attempts to combat youth unemployment on apprenticeship combines questions of supply and demand and skills matching in the realm of apprenticeship occupations with issues of social integration, and these issues are also mixed in the political discourse.

24  Lorenz Lassnigg

0,37

0,36

0,35

0,37

0,36

0,35 80.000

0,38

0,39

0,40

0,41

0,42

0,35

0,43

5,0 9,0 8,0 7,0 6,0 Unemployment rate (naonal), reverse scaling

2000 2000

2005

R² = 0,0719

90.000 95.000 100.000 105.000 110.000 10,0 Demography: Number 15y old

2015

R² = 0,2386

2005

2010

0,38

0,39

0,40

0,41

85.000

2015

2010 0,43

0,37

2016 2015

8,0 6,0 4,0 2,0 Unemployment rate (naonal), reverse scaling

2016 2015

0,39

2000 1995 2005 2017

0,41

1970

0,43

2010

R² = 0,5996

1985

0,45

90.000 100.000 110.000 120.000 130.000 140.000 10,0 Demography: Number 15y old

2000 1995 2005

2010 1980

1975

0,47

0,35 80.000

1970 R² = 0,6854

1985

1980 1990 1990

0,49

0,42

First year apprentices/demography

1975

0,0

0,37

0,39

0,41

0,43

0,45

0,47

0,49

First year apprences/demography

First year apprences/demography

First year apprentices/demography

Figure 2.3 Access to apprenticeship related to demography and overall unemployment Notes: The upper panel shows five-year periods 1970–2017, while the lower panel shows years 2000–17. Source: WKO based on Statistics Austria and Statistics Austria; author’s compilation.

A final basic structural issue of apprenticeship is the high degree of decentralization in this system that can be illustrated by the number of training enterprises in relation to schools. Table 2.1 depicts about 27.000 training enterprises overall, with only three apprentices per site on average, meaning that in a high number of training enterprises only one or two apprentices are trained. In

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 25

comparison, the whole number of schools20 is about 6.000, half of which being primary schools, and this sector is already deemed very complex in terms of governance. The number of full-time VET schools is about 1.000 including the separately governed health schools, and the number of separately governed part-time schools for apprentices is about 150.This structure poses the question of how the actors at the various levels are included in the multi-level overall occupational policy, which includes coordination within sub-units, regional administration by the chambers, and development and reform at the federal level. The craft division is the most differentiated one, in terms of 27 subunits, and includes more than 60% of training enterprises and about 40% of apprentices, with only 2,2 apprentices per training enterprise (less than one per employer) on average; per occupational sub-units of on average about 2.000 employers have to be coordinated in this division. The commerce and tourism divisions together employ further 33% of apprentices in 23% of enterprises; in commerce the density is higher with 5,5 apprentices being trained on average per training enterprise; in tourism the number of enterprises per sub-unit is comparatively high (about 5.000), increasing the challenges of coordination. In the industry and banking divisions the average enterprise sites are still small, but larger (about 130 employees per site, with 11 apprentices per training enterprise in industry and a share of 16% of apprentices; in banking apprenticeship training has less weight), and the coordination tasks given by the number of enterprises per sub-unit are more manageable (110 to 160 employers per subunit). In the transport and information/consulting divisions the role of apprenticeship is small.

Policy makers’ and stakeholders’ perspectives In this section a closer look is taken of the occupational structure and policy from the employers’ side, as the main actors in the system, focusing on the 97 sub-units. First, the sense of ownership of training occupations by sub-units is shown by the information policy at the websites; second, the Austrian modularization policy is discussed as a key aspect of occupational policy; finally the creation of new occupations is demonstrated.This analysis is the first attempt in Austria to look into the divisions; the conventional research has only compared the divisions, and did not look at the relationship of the training occupations to their main location, the subdivisions. Ownership of occupations and diversity

An observation of the internet pages of the occupational sub-units shows quite different representations of apprenticeship at this main information base for the members (Figure 2.4). 38 of the total 97 sub-units (39%) present ownership of apprenticeship occupations, almost all in the crafts division (22 of 27, most of those are related to one to four occupations, three sub-units refer to higher numbers of occupations; construction supplies, textile technology, and

26  Lorenz Lassnigg

metal engineering trades), and only selective units in the remaining ones. The metal industry demonstrates ownership of 59 occupations and employs 40% of apprentices in the industry division; this reflects a much less pronounced interest for apprenticeship in the industry division than the crafts, in addition, most units refer to the polytechnics and the VET colleges. In commerce, which is an important provider of apprenticeship, only few subdivisions point to their ownership of occupations; in this field the structure is twofold, some branches own specialized occupations (e.g., photography, medicine or

apprenceship occupaons 0 CRAFTS (22/27) ElectrEngin PlumbTech MetalEngin Hairdress Vehicles Construcon Carpentry FoodPrd Painng Mechatronic Roofing WoodConstr HealthProd Gardening Poer SynthecProd ConstrSupp Cosmecs Chimney ChemicTech Handicra TexleTech

20 1 3

40

9

1 4 6 1 7 4 1 6 2 5 4 4 2 3 2 3 5

18

18

60

80

CRAFTS (22/27) ElectrEngin PlumbTech MetalEngin Hairdress Vehicles Construcon Carpentry FoodPrd Painng Mechatronic Roofing WoodConstr HealthProd Gardening Poer SynthecProd ConstrSupp Cosmecs Chimney ChemicTech Handicra TexleTech

INDUSTRIES (3/19) Metal Food Ceramic

1 1

INDUSTRIES (3/19) 59Metal Food Ceramic

COMMERCE (4/19) Electrical Texle FotoProd Paper

2 1 2 1

COMMERCE (4/19) Electrical Texle FotoProd Paper

TRANSPORT (2/8) Transport BusAirShip

2 1

TRANSPORT (2/8) Transport BusAirShip

TOURISM, LEIS. (4/6) Hotel Restaurant Leisure TravAgency

5 5 3 1

INFORM., CONS. (3/10) Telecom BookMedia Prinng

3 3 4

BANK, INSUR. (0/7)

0%

TOURISM, LEIS. (4/6) Hotel Restaurant Leisure TravAgency INFORM., CONS.… Telecom BookMedia Prinng

BANK, INSUR. (0/7)

cum % appr.divisions (%of total) 50% 100%

appr/train entpr* 0

CRAFTS (22/27) ElectrEngin 12,0% 97,0% PlumbTech 9,8% MetalEngin (41,4%) 9,5% Hairdress 8,9% Vehicles 8,0% Construcon 7,9% Carpentry 6,4% FoodPrd 5,3% Painng 4,9% Mechatronic 4,7% Roofing 3,6% WoodConstr 3,3% HealthProd 2,7% Gardening 2,4% Poer 1,7% SynthecProd 1,5% ConstrSupp 1,4% Cosmecs 1,2% Chimney 0,8% ChemicTech 0,5% Handicra 0,3% 46,4% TexleTech 0,3% 7,4% INDUSTRIES (3/19) Metal 40,8% Food 3,5% 2,0% 28,8% Ceramic 6,8% COMMERCE (4/19) Electrical 14,2% Texle 12,0% FotoProd 1,7% Paper 0,9% 27,9%

1,1% TRANSPORT (2/8) Transport 22,4% 96,0% BusAirShip 5,5% 9,1% TOURISM, LEIS.… 55,2% Hotel 34,5% Restaurant Leisure 3,9% TravAgency 2,5%

30,1% INFORM., CONS.… Telecom 12,2% 0,9% BookMedia 11,2% Prinng 6,7%

0,0%

10

30

20

4,4 4,0 3,2 2,7 3,0 1,8 2,1 2,3 2,2 2,8 2,5 4,4 2,4 1,5 2,4 4,8 0,5 1,0 1,1 0,3 0,9 0,4 5,1 3,4

17,3

8,0 4,0 3,7 2,6 8,5

27,2

5,2 1,5 1,5 2,7 1,9 8,5 6,1

22,6

BANK, INSUR. (0/7)

Figure 2.4  Ownership of apprenticeships by sub-units * Estimate of apprentices by training enterprise by proportion of training enterprises in divisions (see Table 2.1, panel 2, column 2). Source: Webpages of WKO sub-units and statistics.

15 14 Total

3,7% Total 4,6%

0,6 0,6

0,4 0,8

1,5

Total

BANK-INSURANCE

4,4 INDUSTRY 5,2

TRANSPORT

0

3,2 3,5

5,2

5,0 5,2

6

2,6 2,6

2,1

2,2 2,3

3

8,2 10,8 12,7

10,2

19,0

9 12 15 18 21

* Estimate of apprentices by training enterprise by proportion of training enterprises in divisions (see Table 2.1, panel 2, column 2). Source: Webpages of WKO sub-units and statistics.

Figure 2.5  Comparison of sub-units with ownership to divisions by main indicators

Total

1,2% BANK-INSURANCE

TRANSPORT

130 BANK-INSURANCE

1,7% 2,0%

BANK-INSURANCE

TRANSPORT 3,3%INDUSTRY 3,7%

41

TOURISM-LEISURE

0,3 0,3

3,3% TOURISM-LEISURE 3,5%

135 INDUSTRY 142

21

TOURISM-LEISURE

INFORM-CONSULT

0,1 0,7

6

1,4%INFORM-CONSULT 2,2%

5

COMMERCE

4

0,6 0,6

3

4,2% COMMERCE 4,7%

INDUSTRY

TRANSPORT

TOURISM-LEISURE

9 8

INFORM-CONSULT

29

10

INFORM-CONSULT

COMMERCE

14 13

COMMERCE

2

CRAFTS

1 0,7 0,7

0

5,5% CRAFTS 5,5%

150 0% 1% 2% 3% 4% 5% 6% CRAFTS

100

13 13

50

appr/tr antpr*

O-Appr/employer

O-Appr/employee

O-Empl/employer

CRAFTS

0

appr/tr antpr*

Appr/employer

Appr/employee

Empl/employer

28  Lorenz Lassnigg

pharmaceutical products, arms, also butchers), otherwise apprenticeship in the retailing field is organized in one occupation with 16 specific sub-divisions. In tourism and leisure the hotel and restaurant sub-division own five apprenticeships each and employ almost all apprentices of this division. In the transport division the established tradition of the (still) state-owned rail is visible in its high numbers of apprentices, similarly in the information division the privatized telecom still reflects the tradition of the post, and additionally the book and printing branches. In terms of empirical indicators about apprenticeship provision, the subsections that present ownership of apprenticeships mostly do not differ from those not presenting ownership (Figure 2.5), only in transport and informationconsulting are the apprentices more strongly concentrated. However, only small proportions of the system are situated in those divisions. The conclusion can be drawn from these observations that there is not much indication for structured action in the sub-divisions; the system is rather guided by decentralized actions of individual enterprises. We see signs for comprehensive policies in metal industry.The commercial sub-sections do not emphasize their apprenticeships, here the action lies rather at the division level, by creating one retailing occupation with several specializations. The crafts sub-sections own their specific occupations, and thus create a highly differentiated structure in the domain, where the biggest proportion of the system is concentrated. Here a very specialized structure with overall small numbers of apprentices appears. Occupation policy: modular occupations

Modularization is commonly seen as undermining the occupational structure by dividing more holistic occupational units into small marketable elements (see earlier references to Which, Clarke and Brockmann). The Austrian modular structure has been embedded into the existing occupational logic. After a process of discourse lasting some years, the modularization has been regulated by the Vocational Education act (1969, with many amendments passed since then [paragraph 8(4)]). Basically, the occupational mission (Beruflichkeit) must be guaranteed by the modular structure, and a three-year duration is required as a main aspect. Another characteristic is gradual implementation that does not involve transforming the existing occupations into modular ones, but instead allows for the choice of providing training in a modular or traditional structure. A common structure of modular occupations was created from three different elements that have to be combined in specified ways: basic modules (normally two years), different main modules (minimum one year) building on the basic modules and special modules (six months to one year). A combination of a basic module and a main module that together must last at least three years are regulated as a normal modular apprenticeship (including some kinds of time flexibility between basic and main modules, and allowing for a duration of four

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 29

years in apprenticeships, including special modules).21 Special modules that are attended by a minority of about 14% of modular apprentices (4% of total) can build up to a four years’ package, and two main modules can also be combined under certain conditions (this kind of flexibility is attended by 10% of modular apprentices, or 3% of total) – so in sum one quarter of modular apprentices use the flexible opportunities. The modules are assigned to a clearly devised architecture of modular occupations. Under certain conditions, modules from different occupations can also be combined. The implementation of modularization that started in 2009 with 3.5% of apprentices has reached 30% after five years (2014) and has levelled off till now (Dornmayr, Nowak 2017, pp. 73–74). Modularization takes place mainly in metal, electrical, electronical and building technology occupations (Figure 2.4). Of the 59 occupations mentioned under the ownership of the metal industry, 21 (36%) are regulated in modular way, and about 80 per cent of apprentices in metal occupations are already trained in modular occupations. In electrical and electronics occupations this proportion is even higher (around 90%). In other occupational fields, where modular apprenticeships appear, their proportion is much lower (about 30% in building technology and the small clothing and fashion field, and much lower in chemicals and glass technology). In commerce a mixed structure appears. Occupation policy: creation of new occupations

The creation of new occupations is a genuinely political process. The minister of economic affairs is responsible for the list of training occupations as the institutional core of the occupational structure. The sub-units of the Table 2.2  Change of training occupations, creation of new occupations 1999–2017 Kind of change

Change abs.

% of total

% of change

New name Closure Creation module Creation specialization New occupations Change total Total occupations

40 42 34 38 17 171 220

18% 19% 15% 17% 8% 78% 100%

23% 25% 20% 22% 10% 100%

Definitions: Closure: closure of training occupations New name: change of name of training occupation or specialization: new specializations in a training occupation Module: creation of modules or modular occupations New occ: creation of new occupations without change of existing ones (only information since 2010 is included) Source: Author’s calculation based on BMWFW, WKO 2017.

30  Lorenz Lassnigg 30

New occup

20

Module

10

Special

0

New name

-10

Closure

2016

2017

2015

2014

2013

2012

2011

2010

2009

2008

2007

2006

2005

2004

2003

2002

2001

2000

35

1999

-20 Change total

25

Net creaon -closure

15

5 AV

2017

2016

2015

2014

2013

2012

2011

2010

2009

2008

2007

2006

2005

2004

2003

2002

2001

2000

80%

1999

-5 100%

New occup Module

60%

Special

40%

New name

20%

Closure

Av

2017

2016

2015

2014

2013

2012

2011

2010

2009

2008

2007

2006

2005

2004

2003

2002

2001

2000

1999

0%

Figure 2.6  Change of occupational categories 1999–2017 Definitions: Closure: closure of training occupations New name: change of name of training occupation Module: creation of modules or modular occupations Special: new specializations in a training occupation New occup: creation of new occupations without change of existing ones (only information since 2010 is included) Net creation-closure: module+specialization-closure Change total: sum of all changes (including closure positive values) Source: Author’s calculation based on BMWFW, WKO 2017.

economic chambers supported by experts devise the content, and the social partners via the federal council have to be heard on proposals or can also develop their own proposals. In the political discourse new occupations are used as signals for innovation and renewal of apprenticeship, and should on the one hand care for the adaptation to structural change, and on the other hand also motivate young people to choose the modern alternatives. A special aspect has been the opening of apprenticeship to new sectors outside of the traditional organizational structure covered by the economic chamber, e.g., the public sector and the service professions that currently employ 7% of apprentices. The structure of occupations

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 31

is under dispute between the employers’ and the employees’ interest organizations, as the employers tend towards specialization, and the employees fight for broadening and transferability. The differentiated structure supports specific interests, and thus reinforces specialization. Table 2.2 summarises the different kinds of change in training occupations during the last decades. Three observations stand out: first, there is much occupational change (almost 80% of occupations have undergone some kind of renewal); second, changes of occupations are much more frequent than the creation of new occupations (17 new occupations are contrasted by different kinds of changes in 154 categories); and third, the opening of new specializations is much more frequent than the closure of occupations (72 new specializations compared to 42 closures, and only two years show more frequent closures than openings). The temporal dynamic shows an approximately fiveyear cycle of development in activity (Figure 2.6), with a peak in 2010–11 around the first wave of modularization reform. In this period the number of closures is also highest.

Conclusions This chapter has demonstrated the role that occupational categories play in Austrian apprenticeship as a special case of the currently globally hyped dual apprenticeship system. It is shown that the institutionalization ostensibly focuses very much on aspects of content, tasks and competences, however, these categories in fact work very much as a kind of black box, as a basic structuring device of the whole institutional architecture. In particular, the employers as main actors are organized by the occupations, which are the founding element of the enforcement of the compulsory membership in the highly diversified chambers of commerce. This organization is also the basic instrument for the implementation and governance of the apprenticeship system. The analysis demonstrates the complex structure and the functioning of this organization. In the course of the political development of the regulatory structure, the original Trade Act has been complemented by the Vocational Education Act, which strongly increased the regulation of the enterprise part of apprenticeship. This shift has explicitly set up the institution of training occupations, adding new categories to those of the Trade Act, and specifying their content by the training profiles. With this double structure two features were reinforced: first, a tightening of the basic pattern of the occupational demarcations of the trade act; and second, a functional shift of the occupational profiles from the demand side to the supply side.The latter changes the nature of matching from the relationship between educational supply and occupational demand to the matching between the two occupational dimensions (performed occupations at the employment level and training occupations at the education level). At the same time, the common naming also hides this task of matching, as the training occupations appear as performed occupations, and the double structure symbolically disappears. Interestingly, the stakeholders have not been interested in observing

32  Lorenz Lassnigg

the difference empirically, as long as the statistical classifications counted the two dimensions separately by different occupational and educational classifications. The new classification of occupations (ISCO) has collapsed the two dimensions, and for some time information about the specific training occupations has not been available in the main statistical bases.22 The empirical indications show how much the formal occupational structure is represented by dense actors’ structures, which turn the enactment of the institutional structures into a topic of everyday practices at the decentralized level. Mechanisms that would make the diverse practices of enactment transparent do not exist, and the main matching task between performed occupation and training occupations disappears; thus much room is opened up for ideological and politicized discourse and disagreement about the role and function of apprenticeship. This analysis gives one aspect of how occupational structures might work in practice in a system that builds essentially on occupations.

Notes 1 In Germany, the term Erwerbsberufe is used for the category of Ausübungsberufe. Since the revision of the International Classification of Occupations (ISCO) 08 the categories of the Austrian training occupations cannot be definitely identified in the occupational statistics about the employment of completers (in the ISCO-08 categories some training occupations are mixed with other occupational categories, and some are summarized in broader categories; some can be clearly identified, e.g. waiters). That means that the definite matching between training occupations and performed occupations cannot be empirically identified by the official statistics (Statistics Austria 2018); see also the explanation of the statistical aspects that follows. 2 The studies edited by Busemeyer and Trampusch (2011) have analysed five countries. The Collective Skills System (CSS) clearly predominates only in two of them (Germany and Switzerland). The influences from the overall education structure might be more important than the internal incremental development of CSS. 3 Since the 1990s controversial debates about the historical roles of the guilds and of apprenticeship have emerged in economic history; see the forceful reply by Sheilagh Ogilvy to the critique by Stephan Epstein (Ogilvy 2008) as an example of this controversy. Gaps exist between the research in economic history and historical research about vocational education, the latter focusing much on developments since the 19th century (see Berner, Gonon 2015, Greinert 2005). The Austrian development is sketched in Schermaier (1970). 4 See O*net (www.onetonline.org) or similar initiatives in Europe such as ESCO European Skills/Competences, Qualifications and Occupations (https://ec.europa.eu/esco/ portal/occupation?resetLanguage=true&newLanguage=en). 5 To make the text easier readable, the quantitative measures are grossly rounded, the exact figures can be found in the tables and figures. 6 A main point of the argument is that a substantial difference between the ‘real’ performed occupations and the symbolic structures on either side (training and performed occupations) necessarily always exists, because the symbolic structure must abstract from much of the ‘real’ diversity of allocation of tasks. Consequently on both sides a matching problem exists not only between training and performed occupations, but also between the symbolic structures and the ‘real’ structures of, e.g., competences or tasks (see the more detailed argument in Lassnigg 2012a, c). Even, if the symbolic structure is better matched to the ‘real’ structure (e.g., in the German ‘Lernfeld’ approach), it necessarily

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 33 involves choices favouring certain configurations over other configurations of occupational ‘realities’. 7 The Austrian Trade Act defines comprehensively economic activities and the access conditions to them, including the necessary certificates of competence (Befähigungsnachweis), the basic structure and content of examinations, the responsibilities of trade owners and managers (Geschäftsführer), regulations for the industrial and business premises, explicit definitions and requirements for about 80 regulated trades and 30 free trades, administrative regulations, thereof the masters’ examinations (Meisterprüfungen) and environmental conditions. Trade Act 1994 (about 200 pages including annexes, and about 80 amendments since 1994, about 3 per year), overview: www.ris.bka.gv.at/GeltendeFassung.wxe?Abfr age=Bundesnormen&Gesetzesnummer=10007517; text document: www.ris.bka.gv.at/ GeltendeFassung/Bundesnormen/10007517/GewO%201994%2c%20Fassung%20 vom%2024.02.2018.pdf; explanation by the Ministry: www.bmdw.gv.at/Unternehmen/ Gewerbe/Seiten/Gewerbeordnung.aspx 8 ‘Die den einzelnen Gewerben eigentümlichen Arbeitsvorgänge, die verwendeten Roh- und Hilfsstoffe sowie Werkzeuge und Maschinen, die historische Entwicklung und die in den beteiligten gewerblichen Kreisen bestehenden Anschauungen und Vereinbarungen’ are defined as criteria for the attribution of an economic activity to a certain trade (§29). 9 At the moment the name is ‘Federal Ministry for Digital and Economic Affairs’ (www. en.bmdw.gv.at/Ministry/Seiten/TheMinistry.aspx). 10 At the moment the name is ‘Federal Ministry of Labour, Social Affairs, Health and Consumer Protection’ (www.sozialministerium.at/siteEN/). 11 The exams include the occupational and entrepreneurial aspects, and are organized into five parts: (1) project-oriented practical, (2) oral practical, (3) written theoretical, (4) conditions for apprenticeship training and (5) business and entrepreneurship. The occupational parts of points (1) and (2) are replaced by the completed apprenticeship. Point (5) is replaced by practical entrepreneurial activity of 3 years at minimum. 12 For an overview, see www.wko.at/service/Our_Organisation.html and the organizational chart of Federal Chamber www.wko.at/service/ORGANIGRAMM_e.pdf (including links to the sub-units at federal level); see www.wko.at/service/Addresses_and_Contact_ of_the_Austrian_Economic_Chambers.html for the nine regional chambers. 13 See www.jusline.at/gesetz/schpflg/paragraf/22; schooling can be organized in two versions, weekly or by block times of some weeks within a year on a regional campus, depending on urban or rural environments. 14 At the moment the name is ‘Federal Ministry of Education, Science and Research’ (https://bildung.bmbwf.gv.at/enfr/index.html). 15 See www.arbeiterkammer.at/beratung/bildung/lehre/Rechte_und_Pflichten.html; www.arbeiterkammer.at/beratung/arbeitundrecht/Lehre/index.html; two regional examples: https://wien.arbeiterkammer.at/ueberuns/kontakt/lehrlings_und_jugendschutz/ Lehrlings-_Jugendschutz.html; https://ooe.arbeiterkammer.at/ueberuns/kontakt/lehrling sundjugendschutz/Lehrlings-_und_Jugendschutz.html 16 However, the curricular structure is similarly differentiated as the occupational structure: the current information base provides 210 separate curricula (thereof 11 expiring); the regional authorities have room to further specify curricula. See list of curricula: https:// www.abc.berufsbildendeschulen.at/downloads/?kategorie=7;see regulatory text:https:// www.abc.berufsbildendeschulen.at/download/2294/Allgemeine-Bestimmungen2016.pdf 17 See the Vocational Education Act (1969) (www.wko.at/service/bildung-lehre/BAG,Fassung-vom-14.07.2015.pdf). 18 Council at federal level: Bundesberufsausbildungsbeirat (www.jusline.at/gesetz/bag/paragraf/31; https://weisserrabe.at/bildungspolitik/gremien-zur-berufsbildungspolitik/ bundesberufsausbildungsbeirat/): members on employees’ side: regional chambers of labour, central and branch units of trade unions, enterprise works councils; members on

34  Lorenz Lassnigg employers’ side: chamber of commerce, central, regional, and branch units, enterprises). At regional level nine councils are established: Landesberufsausbildungsbeiräte with four members each, who deal with more concrete implementation issues at the regional level. 19 The current minister (Dr. Margarete Schramböck) has her background rather in industry, lastly in telecommunications; the former minister has moved into the leading position of the federal chamber, and before that the leader of ÖVP and vice-chancellor of the government, with his main professional and political background also in the chamber was minister of economic affairs. 20 See StatisticsAustria (www.statistik.at/wcm/idc/idcplg?IdcService=GET_NATIVE_FIL E&RevisionSelectionMethod=LatestReleased&dDocName=110063). 21 ‘Die Ausbildungsinhalte des Grundmoduls und des Hauptmoduls haben zusammen die Beruflichkeit im Sinne des § 5 Abs. 1 bis 3 sicher zu stellen’. (Vocational Education Act, §8(4), p. 7). 22 In contrast to apprenticeship, the VET full-time school sector has never attempted to establish categories of performed occupations related to the educational programmes, thus the structuring role of the educational programmes for the occupational structure is much more transparent in this sector.

References Akkerman, Sanne F.; Bakker, Arthur (2011) Boundary Crossing and Boundary Objects. Review of Educational Research,Vol. 81, No. 2 (June), pp. 132–169. Baethge, Martin; Baethge-Kinsky, Volker (1998) Jenseits von Beruf und Beruflichkeit? – Neue Formen von Arbeitsorganisation und Beschäftigung und ihre Bedeutung für eine zentrale Kategorie gesellschaftlicher Integration. Mitteilungen aus der Arbeitsmarkt- und Berufsforschung,Vol. 3/1998, S. 461–472. Berner, Esther; Gonon, Philipp (Eds.) (2015) History of Vocational Education and Training in Europe: Cases, Concepts and Challenges. Bern: Peter Lang. Blau, Peter M.; Duncan, Otis Dudley (1967) The American Occupational Structure. New York, NY: John Wiley & Sons. BMWFW, WKO (Bundesministerium für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Wirtschaft, Wirtschaftskammer Österreich) (2017) Lehrberufe in Österreich – Ausbildungen mit Zukunft: Ausgabe 2017. Vienna: BMWFW, WKO. www.ibw.at/resource/download/687/lehrberufein-oesterreich,pdf Bouder, Annie; Dauty, Françoise; Kirsch, Jean-Louis; Lemistre, Philippe (2009) Legibility of qualifications: An issue as long-standing as Europe. In CEDEFOP (ed.), Modernising Vocational Education and Training. Fourth report on vocational education and training research in Europe: Background report,Vol. 3, pp. 89–140. Luxembourg: Publications Office of the European Union. www.cedefop.europa.eu/EN/publications/5011.aspx Brockmann, Michaela; Clarke, Linda; Winch, Christopher (2008) Knowledge, Skills, Competence: European Divergences in Vocational Education and Training (VET):The English, German and Dutch Cases. Oxford Review of Education,Vol. 34, No. 5, pp. 547–567. Busemeyer, Marius R.; Trampusch, Christine (Eds.) (2011) The Political Economy of Collective Skill Formation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Clarke, Linda; Winch, Christopher (2006) A European Skills Framework? – But What Are Skills? Anglo-Saxon versus German Concepts. Journal of Education and Work, Vol. 19, No. 3, pp. 255–269. Clarke, Linda; Winch, Christopher; Brockmann, Michaela (2013) Trade-based Skills Versus Occupational Capacity: The Example of Bricklaying in Europe. Work, Employment and Society,Vol. 27, No. 6, pp. 932–951.

‘Ausbildungsberufe’ – ‘Dual’ apprenticeships 35 Dickens, William T.; Lang, Kevin (1992) Labor market segmentation theory: Reconsidering the evidence.Working Paper No. 4087. Cambridge, MA: National Bureau of Economic Research. www.nber.org/papers/w4087.pdf Doeringer, Peter B.; Piore, Michael J. (1971) Internal Labor Markets and Manpower Analysis. Lexington, MA: Heath. Dornmayr, Helmut; Nowak, Sabine (2017) Lehrlingsausbildung im Überblick: Strukturdaten, Trends und Perspektiven. Ibw-Research Report Nr. 190.Vienna: Ibw. www.ibw.at/resource/ download/1577/ibw-forschungsbericht-190.pdf Dostal,Werner (2002) Der Berufsbegriff in der Berufsforschung des IAB. In Kleinhenz, Gerhard (ed.), IAB-Kompendium Arbeitsmarkt- und Berufsforschung. Beiträge zur Arbeitsmarktund Berufsforschung, BeitrAB 250, S. 463–474. EC-Employment, Social Affairs & Inclusion (2015) Measuring Skills Mismatch. Analytical Web Note 7.12.2015. http://ec.europa.eu/social/BlobServlet?docId=14974&langId=en Eichhorst,Werner;Tobsch,Verena (2013) Has atypical work become typical in Germany? Country case study on Labour Market segmentation. Employment Working Paper No. 145. Geneva: ILO. http://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---ed_emp/---ifp_skills/documents/ publication/wcms_218972.pdf Flisi, Sara; Goglio, Valentina; Meroni, Elena; Rodrigues, Margarida; Vera-Toscano, Esperanza (2014) Occupational mismatch in Europe: Understanding overeducation and overskilling for policy making. JRC Science and Policy Reports, Report EUR 26618 EN. European Commission Joint Research Centre. http://publications.jrc.ec.europa.eu/repository/bitstream/ JRC89712/occupational%20mismatch%20in%20europe.pdf Greinert,Wolf-Dietrich (2005) Mass Vocational Education and Training in Europe: Classical Models of the 19th Century and Training in England, France and Germany During the First Half of the 20th. Cedefop Panorama Series 118. Luxembourg: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities. Katzenstein, Peter J. (1985) Small States in World Markets: Industrial Policy in Europe. Cornell Studies in Political Economy. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Kenney, Martin; Zysman, John (2016) What is the future of work? Understanding the platform economy and computation-intensive automation. A proto-paper. Berkeley Roundtable on the International Economy. BRIE Working Paper 2016–9. Kurtz,Thomas (2013) Occupation as a Form and the Theory of Society. Cybernetics & Human Knowing,Vol. 20, Nos. (1–2), pp. 127–140. Lassnigg, Lorenz (1989) Ausbildungen und Berufe in Österreich – die wesentlichen Ergebnisse und Schlußfolgerungen aus einer problemorientierten Analyse des Systems der beruflichen Erstausbildung in Österreich (Systemic analysis of education and occupations in Austria). Federal Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs, Forschungsberichte aus Sozial- und Arbeitsmarktpolitik Nr.32 (Oktober).Vienna. www.equi.at/dateien/ausb-berufe-fobe-scan.pdf Lassnigg, Lorenz (2008) Improving the Quality of the Supply-demand-match in Vocational Education and Training by Anticipation and ‘Matching Policy’. European Journal of Vocational Training,Vol. 44, No. 2, pp. 9–31. Lassnigg, Lorenz (2011) Matching Education and Training to Employment: Practical Problems and Theoretical Solutions – Or the Other Way Round? Papers: Revista de Sociologia, Vol. 96, No. 4, pp. 1097–1123. Lassnigg, Lorenz (2012a) ‘Lost in Translation’: Learning Outcomes and the Governance of Education. Journal of Education and Work (JEW),Vol. 25, No. 3, pp. 299–330. Lassnigg, Lorenz (2012b) Beruflichkeit in Österreich: Institutioneller Rahmen für komplexe Koordination und vieldeutige Versprechungen (Occupational patterns in Austria).

36  Lorenz Lassnigg In Bolder, Axel; Dobischat, Rolf; Kutscha, Günter; Reutter, Gerhard (eds.), Beruflichkeit zwischen institutionellem Wandel und biographischem Projekt, pp. 189–217.Wiesbaden: Springer VS. www.equi.at/dateien/Beruf-LANG.pdf Lassnigg, Lorenz (2012c) Anticipating and matching skills demand and supply: Synthesis of national reports. In The European Training Foundation (ETF) (ed.), Torino. www.equi.at/ dateien/Skills_matching_synthesis_re.pdf Lassnigg, Lorenz (2013) Berufsbildung, akademische Bildung, Akademisierung der ­Berufswelt – Entwicklungen, Erfahrungen und Diskurse in Österreich (Vocational and higher education – development, experience and discourses in Austria). In Severing, Eckart; Teichler, Ulrich (eds.), Akademisierung der Berufswelt?, pp. 109–141. Bielefeld: W. Bertelsmann. www.equi.at/material/agbfn11.pdf Lassnigg, Lorenz (2016a) ‘Muddling through’ once again – The long term development of the dualistic Austrian VET system. In Berner, Esther; Gonon, Philipp (eds.), History of Vocational Education and Training in Europe: Cases, Concepts and Challenges; Studies in Vocational and Continuing Education,Vol. 14, pp. 125–145. Bern: Peter Lang. Lassnigg, Lorenz (2016b) Apprenticeship policies in comparative perspective: ET-structures, employment relationship, export. IHS Sociological Series, No. 114. Vienna. www.equi.at/ dateien/rs114.pdf Leontaridi, Marianthi Rannia (1998) Segmented Labour Markets: Theory and Evidence. Journal of Economic Surveys,Vol. 12, No. 1, pp. 63–101. Ogilvie, Sheilagh C. (2008) Rehabilitating the Guilds: A Reply. Economic History Review,Vol. 61, No. 1 (February), pp. 175–182. Piore, Michael J. (1986) Perspectives on Labor Market Flexibility. Industrial Relations,Vol. 25, No. 2 (March), pp. 146–166. Reich, Michael; Gordon, David M.; Edwards, Richard C. (1973) Dual Labor Markets: A Theory of Labor Market Segmentation. American Economic Review,Vol. 63, No. 2 (May), pp. 359–365. Schermaier, Josef (1970) Die Formen der gewerblichen Berufserziehung bis zum Facharbeiterniveau in Österreich unter besonderer Berücksichtigung des Duosystems (Vocational education in the trades to the skilled worker level under consideration of the dual system). Dissertationen der Universität Salzburg. Wien: Notring. Sengenberger, Werner (1987) Struktur und Funktionsweise von Arbeitsmärkten: die Bundesrepublik Deutschland im internationalen Vergleich (Structure and Way of Functioning of Labor Markets: The FRG in an International Comparison). Frankfurt/M: Campus. http://nbn-resolving.de/ urn:nbn:de:0168-ssoar-68120 Statistics Austria (2018) Informationen zur ISCO-08. Webpage 30.01.2018. www.statistik.at/ web_de/klassifikationen/oeisco_08/informationen_zur_isco08/index.html Traxler, Franz; Blaschke, Sabine; Kittel, Bernhard (2001) National Labour Relations in Internationalized Markets: A Comparative Study of Institutions, Change, and Performance. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wilensky, Harold L. (1964) The Professionalization of Everyone? American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 70, No. 2 (September), pp. 137–158. Zysman, John; Kenney, Martin (2015) Where will work come from in the era of the cloud and big data? Sustainable growth and work in the era of cloud and big data: Will escaping the commodity trap be our undoing? Berkeley Roundtable on the International Economy. BRIE Working Paper 2014–6.

Chapter 3

Occupational preparation for manual work Fitter/machinists and concrete product operators Erica Smith Introduction This chapter explores the ways in which occupational preparation differs for two occupations: fitter/machinist and concrete products operator. The occupations have a number of features in common. Both occupations are essential for secondary industry in Australia (as in all countries), particularly for the economy, manufacturing, construction and civil construction; they are widely distributed geographically. Both jobs are predominantly held by men. Accuracy and precision are major components of both occupations. Yet, in Australia, the former holds high status, being seen as one of the elite trades, and the latter is a job with low status and little public visibility. The fitter/machinist occupation has a traditional four-year apprenticeship associated with it, while concrete products operation has few formally qualified workers; qualifications for the occupation were recently introduced but are little used. People generally enter the occupation of fitter/machinist as a young person, while concrete products operators generally enter when of a mature age. The chapter draws on findings from a major national research project that was funded by the Australian Research Council, ‘Recognising skill in jobs considered unskilled or low-skilled’ which was carried out over the years 2011 to 2014. The project was supported by three industry partner organisations: two Industry Skills Councils, Manufacturing Skills Australia and Service Skills Australia, and a national trade union (United Voice). The project set out to examine the skills involved in nine occupations; how these accorded with the perceptions of skill in the occupations; and the effects of perceptions on skill on qualifications and on the prospects of the workers in the occupations. The project focused mainly on occupations usually regarded as unskilled (including concrete products operator) but also included two occupations regarded as skilled, of which fitter/machinist was one. In the project, data for the occupations were collected from multiple sources. Telephone interviews were carried out with targeted senior stakeholders in each occupational area; two company case studies were undertaken in each occupation, interviewing people at all levels within the

38  Erica Smith

companies about the skills in the occupation; and occupational-specific industry forums were held to validate the findings in these phases. Finally, the findings about the skills reported for the occupations were compared with the relevant major occupational qualification. For the larger project, the results were fed back to national and international audiences to draw out policy and practice implications. This chapter uses findings from the project relating to the two occupations. It describes and analyses the very different ways in which the skills involved in each are developed. It examines how the occupational preparation was carried out and its relationship to the job requirements, and provides an initial exploration of some reasons that might account for the differences between the two occupations.

Literature and background This section provides a brief overview of two main topics: the training available through the national vocational education and training (VET) system in Australia, and the size and nature of the two occupational areas in Australia. The training system in Australia

Some background to the Australian VET system is necessary to provide context to this chapter. Australia has a highly developed VET system, with qualifications covering most industry areas, in occupations that are not regarded as needing university preparation. These qualifications are contained in 65 Training Packages, all of which contain large numbers of units of competency gathered into multiple qualifications, generally from Australian Qualifications Framework Level 2 (entry-level) to Level 5 (diploma level) on a scale of 1 to 10, on which a Bachelor’s degree is 7 and a PhD 10. Many occupations did not have formal qualifications until the advent of Training Packages, which were first introduced in 1997 (Smith & Keating, 2003). The Australian VET system has been competency-based since the mid-1980s and, as in many countries, competency-based training has been heavily critiqued on a number of fronts; the range of arguments has been summarised by Smith (2010a). There is a public provider, Technical and Further Education (TAFE), and around 4,000 private training providers. Apprenticeship is a relatively common phenomenon in Australia, with strong roots in the traditional trade areas, of which fitting and machining is a prime example. While flexible arrangements are available, trade apprenticeships generally last for four years and involve three years of attendance in day or block release at off-the-job training at a training provider generally a publicly run TAFE Institute (Smith, 2010b). The qualification level of an apprenticeship is generally a Certificate III. While mature-aged apprentices are common, apprenticeship is a well-recognised school-leaver destination. In the mid-1980s ‘traineeships’ were introduced, partly to cover non-trade areas, and numbers

Occupational preparation for manual work 39

became very strong in some occupational areas (Smith & Keating, 2003). Traineeships generally last for only 12 months and are sometimes carried out entirely ‘on the job’. Traineeship numbers fell dramatically from 2012 when Federal and State governments withdrew funding and employment incentives from most traineeship occupations (Guthrie & Smith, 2015). As a result, Australia moved rapidly from being a major apprentice-employing country, with 490,000 apprentices and trainees in training in 2012 to a mid-range apprenticeship country with around 291,000 at the end of 2015 (Gilfillan, 2016) from a workforce of 11.9 million (ABS, 2016). Traditional apprenticeship numbers have also fallen slightly (Gilfillan, 2016). Apprenticeship is the entry point for the fitter/machinist occupation, while there are no qualifications required to enter the job of concrete products operator. There has been a very limited uptake of traineeships in the concrete products operator occupation. Many companies and other organisations utilise the formal VET system in ways other than through apprenticeships or traineeships, offering formal qualifications or units of competency to their workers in partnership with training providers, with training sometimes provided at the training provider and sometimes on-site at the employing organisation (Smith, Smith,Tuck & Callan, 2017). In addition, Australian firms carry out their own internal training and also purchase training from many types of education provider. The occupations of fitter/machinist and concrete products operator

The two occupations covered in this chapter both have their homes within the manufacturing sector but also service other sectors. In Australia, as in many developed countries, employment in manufacturing has been declining for more than ten years, and the workforce is relatively old (Australian Jobs, 2017). It is also undergoing rapid change as advanced manufacturing products and techniques are introduced (Advanced Manufacturing Growth Centre, 2017), meaning that skill requirements will change in the future (Manufacturing Skills Australia, 2015). The occupation of fitter and machinist is currently distributed between manufacturing itself (30,000 fitters and machinists were employed in 2016 in that industry) and other industries (69,000) with fitters needed to maintain machinery in many industries, such as mining, construction and public safety (Commonwealth of Australia, 2017).The occupation of concrete products operator is found in two main industry sub-sectors: concrete product manufacturing, also known as ‘pre-cast’ concrete; and ready-mixed or ‘pre-mix’ concrete. The latter industry, which employs 8,440 people in Australia, provides concrete ‘slurry’ which goes out for use in construction and civil construction, and thus ebbs and flows with demand from the building and infrastructure industries (IbisWorld, 2017a). The people who manage the mixing of concrete to specified proportions of ingredients are known as ‘batchers’. Pre-cast concrete employs 7,170 people (IbisWorld, 2017b) and produces small products such as roof tiles

40  Erica Smith

as well as large products such as freeway bridges and drainage pipes. Sometime pre-mix plants are co-located with pre-cast plants. It should be noted that the occupation of concrete products operator does not cover the job of ‘concreter’, which applies to those who work with pre-mixed concrete on building sites, landscaping and so on. Concrete products operators work away from these enduser situations.

Research method The project included several phases (for full method, see Smith & Junor, 2016). Ethics approval was gained for the research. The participants in the three phases of fieldwork for the occupational studies for fitter/machinist and concrete products operator, which were carried out in 2012–2014, are listed in Table  3.1. Because of the multiple layers of interviews and iterative validation by industry (Smith & Junor, 2016), the data are considered to be reliable.The stakeholder interviews and the company case studies were based on a set of qualitative questions, based primarily on the literature on skill. Table 3.2 provides more detail about the case study companies and participants.

Table 3.1  Research participants for occupational studies, for the two occupations Number of research participants activity Telephone interviews with targeted senior stakeholders in each occupational area. The following were sought: employer associations and trade unions, course co-ordinators in TAFE and non-TAFE training providers, and Industry Skills Councils specialists. Two company case studies per occupation, involving interviews at all levels within organisations and use of ‘Ways of Seeing’ tools. Industry forums to validate findings to date, through guided discussion of occupational summaries. Total

Fitter/machinist

Concrete products operator

5

4

13

10

8 + 2*

28

6 + 2*

22

* F or each occupation, two additional people who could not attend were interviewed by phone.

Occupational preparation for manual work 41 Table 3.2  Details of the full case studies for the two occupations Site

Nature of company

Location

Personnel interviewed

Engineering and maintenance manager (supervisor of fitters), Human Resource (HR) Manager, toolroom supervisor, Maintenance fitter, Machinist × 2 (Total 6) Engineering manager, regional HR Co-ordinator, Organisation development manager, toolroom supervisor, reliability technician (fitter supervisor), Maintenance fitter × 2 (Total 7)

Fitter/machinist 1a

Automotive brakes manufacturer

Regional city, Victoria

1b

Cane sugar mill

Regional city, Queensland

Concrete products operator 2a

Pre-mix

Regional city, Victoria

2b

Pre-cast

Regional city, Victoria

Managing Director, Plant manager (also batcher), 2 batchers (Total 4) Production manager, Quality and OHS/Training manager, Supervisor/Leading hand, Concrete labourers – Patcher, Form worker, Test cylinder operator (Total 6)

Notes: (i) On the advice of the industry forum, extra metropolitan visits were undertaken for concrete, one in pre-mix and one in pre-case. There are not included in the table. The visits were in New South Wales and South Australia respectively, each including a site tour, an interview with a manager, and informal conversations with workers; (ii) both of the fitter/machinist firms were part of multinational companies.

In these company case studies, all participants were asked about the occupation being studied, not about their own jobs, and hence the questions varied slightly depending on the relationship of the person’s job role to that occupation. In addition, in the case studies an instrument developed for a pilot project, the ‘Ways of Seeing’ tool (Smith & Teicher, 2017), was utilised. This instrument contained three components: the Australian list of employability skills (BCA/ ACCI, 2002); six other selected skill indicators (such as level of autonomy) based on the literature; and the literacy and numeracy requirements of the job. Participants were asked if the demands of the job were low, medium or high for each of these indicators. The Appendix shows the tools and the results for the two occupations. The stakeholder interviews were written up separately by occupation according to a pre-determined format. Each company case study was written up separately in a similar manner and ‘occupational summaries’ were produced which integrated the industry stakeholder interviews, both case studies for each

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occupation and, in the case of concrete, the extra site visits.The industry forums were designed to validate these occupational summaries and also to produce new data. Feedback from the forums was integrated into the relevant occupational summaries. For this chapter, data relevant to the occupational requirements and occupational preparation were extracted from the summaries and the original interview transcripts.

Findings In this section, the findings for the tasks involved in each occupation, as derived from the interviews with industry stakeholders and the company case studies, are presented separately, and then the findings about the skills in the job and the occupational preparation are discussed. Tasks involved in doing the job Fitter and machinist

The research confirmed that the occupation had two rather different roles. The division was into machining (making and repairing machine parts), otherwise known as toolmaking, and fitting (servicing machines – scheduled maintenance or breakdowns), although there was an overlap. Sometimes a company had a workforce of generalist fitters and machinists, but only one of them would do the difficult machining. Skills were seen to be changing from ‘hand skills’ (e.g. setting a lathe to cut a thread on a bolt) to setting up a computer program. The workforce was full-time, mainly, it was said, because they had to start as apprentices who were nearly always full-time. There were some women in the occupation, but not many; in the company case studies, managers seemed to feel rather guilty about this. The age of apprentice commencers was reported to be increasing – they were more likely to be in their early 20s rather than teenagers. Companies often saw fitters as their future senior managers, so career prospects were good. Many of the qualified workers were mature. The labour market for fitters/machinists was very tight at the time of the study. Companies found it hard to get suitable applicants for apprenticeships and to retain people because of the mining boom in Australia at that time, which provided well-paid work in other manual occupations. The two job roles – fitters and machinists – were quite different, although apprentices were trained to do both. For example, at the brakes manufacturer (Case Study 1a) fitters performed three main activities: they attended to and fixed breakdowns of the factory machinery; they undertook preventative maintenance according to a fixed schedule; and they undertook ‘project work’ which involved working on particular machines or processes where unusual proportions of breakdown time were being experienced, or they might build a structure, such as, in one example, the front gate of the factory. The machinists had

Occupational preparation for manual work 43

two major roles.They repaired machine tools from the production machines, in jobs reported to them by the maintenance fitters, and they manufactured new tools, spending about half of their time on each type of activity. At the sugar mill (Case Study 1b) the situation was different, with fitting predominating over machining. The nature of sugar milling machinery meant that items to be maintained were few but very large. For example a boiling pan had been rebuilt recently, which was a major task. We’ve demolished one pan and rebuilt it from the ground up, basically, which is really good to see because you can stand back. It’s one thing that I really like, being able to stand back and saying “I did that.” It gives you that sense of achievement. (Fitter, Case Study 1b) As the mill did not manufacture metal goods, the toolroom was small. It was run by one supervisor and a team of apprentices. Fitters were expected to keep their hand in at machining, and the toolroom provided the opportunity for apprentices to learn the machining side of the trade which otherwise was not greatly utilised in the plant. Concrete products operator

Within the job of concrete product operator, there were also two distinct job roles: batchers, in the ‘pre-mix’ arm of the industry, who oversaw the mixing of different ingredients to produce ‘wet concrete’; and people who worked in ‘pre-cast’ concrete plants, carrying out a range of processes creating and using moulds to produce items like drains and freeway bridges.The latter people were generally referred to as ‘concrete labourers’. The workforce was full-time and mature-aged, with many people joining after previous careers; it was exclusively male. The national stakeholders indicated that most workers had been early school-leavers. The job of batcher in pre-mix concrete (Case Study 2a and one additional site visit) involved mixing the components in correct proportions for the client’s order. It often included taking orders and liaising with the client to help the client select the correct mix. The mixing was operated by computer. The batcher had to make sure all of the ‘bins’ with the raw materials were stocked by loader drivers and that product was flowing freely out of them. The batcher then had to co-ordinate the drivers who delivered the order, and deal by phone with any issues that arose at the delivery site. In the metropolitan example, where orders were taken by a central national call centre, the batchers needed to be able to detect errors made centrally in the allocation and direction of trucks, and correct them. In some cases the batcher worked alone at a small site; examples that were provided in the research included part-time and mobile plants that served mining areas.

44  Erica Smith

The pre-cast concrete products operation (case study 2b and one additional site visit) involved a broader variety of tasks, which were normally undertaken by separate people although operators could generally undertake all or most of them. Concrete in correct proportions was poured into a mould which was ‘cooked’ and then removed. The moulds had to be assembled, the correct proportions of concrete had to be estimated and checked, the product had to be removed when cooled, and the moulds had to be disassembled and cleaned if re-used. A leading hand oversaw a group of workers carrying out these tasks. Some workers might specialise in formwork, some in patching the final product to deal with minor flaws and some in preparing test cylinders, which had to be sent away for testing before the product could be delivered to the customer. Metal fabricators made the metal cages (‘reos’) and were not considered part of the occupation, but the carpenters who made the wooden panels for the moulds were considered to be concrete products operators. In the metropolitan site, one part of the plant making pipes was fully automated, with its own small batching plant, and the operator’s role was to set the process up and monitor the operation, rather than physically operating the machinery. What differentiates a good practitioner?

Participants in the occupational interviews were asked what made ‘good’ practitioners. This was expected to provide additional insights into the skills involved in the occupations. As the qualifications were competency-based, the Training Package itself did not provide any information about levels of performance.The participants were also asked how long it took to become skilled. Fitter/machinist

The attributes of a good fitter/machinist can be summarised, from the interviews, as speed, quality, initiative, understanding consequences, having experience in working with a range of machinery, pride in their work, caring about the results, tidiness and knowledge. In contrast to the occupation of concrete worker, the development of a rounded and skilled worker was seen as a longterm process. A consensus seemed to be around four to five years after the end of the apprenticeship, although one fitter suggested it might be up to ten. Senior managers in companies often came from the fitter workforce. Concrete products operator

What differentiates good batchers in pre-mix concrete was described as speed, efficiency, ability to give clear instructions and patience. In pre-mix concrete, it was estimated that it took about 12 months for somebody to become good at the job. One said that it took two years to become fully skilled. In the pre-cast setting, tasks were more diverse and high performance was less easy to describe

Occupational preparation for manual work 45

generically. Estimates of time taken to become skilled varied greatly among participants, (from one to 12 months).The highest estimate was from one of the workers (a patcher) and the lowest from the supervisor; but all of the pre-cast workers (Case Study 2b) said that those who had been in the job longest were the most skilled. Occupational preparation for the job

In this section, the applicable qualifications are briefly presented, and then the training for each job as described by participants is explained. The structures of the formal qualifications for the occupations, and their respective enrolments nationally, are outlined in Table 3.3. For both qualifications, the electives enabled specialisation: for concrete, between pre-mix and pre-cast; and for metals, between fitter and machining. Other specialised skills were also possible. Table 3.3 shows that far more people study the fitter/machinist qualification than the concrete production qualification. Fitter/machinist

The occupation of fitter/machinist was heavily unionised and the qualification, which had a long history, was specifically designed to be undertaken as part of an apprenticeship, thus tying together industrial relations and training issues. The Training Package arrangement of ‘points’ for units of competency was very unusual among Training Packages. There was a system of pay levels (known as the ‘C system’) dependent on the number of units of competency gained. On the ‘C scale’, which has levels from 1 to 14 (1 being highest), fitters and machinists began at level C10 after they had completed their apprenticeships and could move up to level C6 within three or four years based on combinations of qualifications and training undertaken and the need to use those skills in the Table 3.3  Structure of the two qualifications Occupation

Metal fitter and machinist

Qualification

No. of units required Enrolments for study 2014,15,16 (Source: NCVER, 2018)

Certificate III in 12 core units and Engineering – 113 ‘points’ of Mechanical Trade electives (most units have 2–8 ‘points’) Concrete products Certificate III in 6 core units and operator Manufactured 14 electives Mineral Products

2014: 12,345 2015: 10,476 2016: 9,172 2014: 222 2015: 67 2016: 36

46  Erica Smith

workplace. In the engineering industry there was a history of qualifications at paraprofessional and professional levels too, overseen by professional bodies. Apprenticeships were the main topic when people talked about fitter/ machinist training. At both case study sites, apprentice training was closely supervised, and rotations through different departments were managed carefully. Also, a large part of the job of qualified workers was expected to be the supervision of apprentices.The training for fitter/machinist apprentices in Case Study 1a had been amended over about the last ten years to include some units of competency in boiler-making (fabrication). Additional training available to fitters included dogging and rigging licences, for example, or welding. If the fitters were earmarked for a management route they would be sent on external supervisory courses. The senior managers at both case study sites had almost all been fitters. Perceptions of skill in the job seemed to be framed by what was included in the apprenticeship and also by strong beliefs about what should be in an apprenticeship. One fitter at the sugar mill (Case Study 1b) who had completed his apprenticeship quite recently, mentioned that he had been anxious about whether he would be good enough to pass, because the off-the-job training was limited. He said: I’m not sure whether, here, the apprenticeship training is quite right because – you listen to a lot of the older people – they used to go away to Tech for seven weeks at a time. Whereas (now) we go there for two weeks and we do a theory block. Any practical is learned here. I don’t know if it’s quite the right way of doing it. It’s purely theoretical. So we sit at a desk. You read paperwork. You do an exam. You’re then marked competent or not competent and you come back to your site.Then you do your practical. The way I think about it – maybe we should be learning more practical at TAFE or at Tech because, normally, the blokes there are trade qualified people that have then gone to teaching. They’ve got a lot of skills and a lot of knowledge that they should be passing on. But in the factory during the season . . . things break down and it needs to be fixed as quickly as possible. It doesn’t necessarily mean you do the best job. (Worker, Case Study 1b) The apprenticeship curriculum and the ‘C system’ to some extent provided a very clear map for the occupation, as evidenced by this worker, who seemed to feel that his occupational preparation was deficient against his perceived ideal. Concrete products operator

Generally this job was carried out with on-the-job firm-specific training, with no national co-ordination and little use of the qualifications. It is perhaps symptomatic of the lack of systematic workforce development that, despite many

Occupational preparation for manual work 47

leads being followed, it was not possible to access the planned target people for the industry stakeholder interviews; for example, no specialist Industry Skills Council representative, national or state office union official, or TAFE staff member was available. No such people existed, and near-substitutes needed to be found, such as the workplace union organiser for a generalist trade union. This was the only occupation of the nine in the larger study for which difficulties arose in filling the designated interview categories. The stakeholder interviews established that the available qualifications were little used except by two of the four major companies in the industry, and even in those instances were mainly delivered on the job. This was borne out by the case studies. At the pre-mix concrete plant (Case Study 2a) there appeared to be no knowledge of available qualifications for the job of batcher. The interviewees thought that the job could really only be learned on the job, although when pressed, one batcher suggested some matters that could be included in a curriculum which he thought would take six months to undertake. It was stated that the staff went to training providers to get their ‘tickets’ – for forklift and loader driving. The General Manager sometimes sent staff on generic courses such as occupational health and safety but found them unsatisfactory as they were not tailored to the industry. In the pre-cast company (Case Study 2b), the Quality Manager was hoping to introduce nationally recognised training for the operators via the Manufactured Minerals Products Certificate III. He had been working with a training provider to plan delivery of this and other training, using his experience in another industry as a basis. However, a previous unsatisfactory attempt with another training provider had made people wary, and the plan had yet to be approved. The company did sent more senior people to supervisory and quality courses, and the metal fabricators undertook diplomas. Despite the attempts to introduce the nationally recognised training, the operators at this company did not know anything about it and did not think that any qualifications were available. One was, however, very much in favour of such a qualification, saying: A carpenter can do an apprenticeship, and a painter and a plasterer and all that kind of thing, where a guy in this industry – really there’s no concrete trade for you to learn off. So I think if there was something there that would give you some training it’d be a huge help, especially for young kids that might want to become a concrete [operator] or a form worker or a steel fixer or something. (Worker, Case Study 2b)

Analysis The research summarised in this chapter indicates that the two occupations share many common features. These can be listed as follows.

48  Erica Smith

The nature of the job • The fact that the jobs are not visible to the general public and involve ‘dirty’ work; • A wholly or mostly male workforce that is predominantly full-time; • The presence of two distinct ‘streams’ in the occupation. The nature of the tasks • • • • •

The view of those in the industry that the jobs are about half-way to threequarters along a notional ‘skill scale’; The importance of accuracy and precision; Far-reaching safety and financial consequences for companies if errors are made; Constant numeracy demands; The utilisation of communication skills and team work.

While the qualifications for the two occupations are at the same level, two factors indicate that the job of fitter/machinist is regarded as more skilled in Australia than that of concrete products operator: firstly, qualifications are not required to practise the latter occupation; secondly although they are available, they are hardly ever used. Perhaps significantly, the publication ‘Australian Jobs 2017’ and other components of the ‘Job Outlook’ website (www.joboutlook. gov.au) which provide occupational information to the public do not specifically list concrete products operator, despite more people working in this occupation, than, for example, the occupation of plumber, which has a separate entry. ‘Metal fitters and machinist’ by contrast, have their own entry on ‘Job Outlook’. It seems odd, given the general similarities in the work, that the occupational preparation differs so greatly. Apprenticeship is the only way to enter fitting/machining but virtually nobody undertakes qualification-based training in concrete products operation. In fitting/machining, the training includes both sub-sectors of the occupation, although the choice of units may be weighted between one and the other. But there is a concerted effort to train apprentices in both areas of the trade, such that the toolroom in one case study company was really only retained to train the apprentices, otherwise the work could have been outsourced. By contrast, there was little evidence that concrete production workers moved from one arm of the occupation to the other. In the fitting/machining workplaces, great emphasis was placed on training, while in the concrete workplaces there were no designated people whose job role included training. As explained earlier, fitting and machining is a highly unionised occupation. This has two effects: firstly, apprenticeship is valorised as a means of training;

Occupational preparation for manual work 49

and secondly, the pay scales are linked to qualifications and experience. In concrete products operation there is no history of strong trade unionism; there is only a staff association for two major companies, which is not affiliated to the Australian Council of Trade Unions. Pay rates are not linked to qualifications. It seems that the utilisation of qualifications could be linked to the relative strength of the union presence in the two occupations. The low utilisation of qualifications could also be related to the relatively recent (post-1997) advent of qualifications in the concrete products industry. This shorter history is likely to lead to low awareness, as was found among most staff even in Case Study 2b where qualifications had been used previously and were about to be re-introduced. The shorter history could lead to a less rigorous nature of qualifications which were only introduced after the introduction of the Training Package regime, as opposed to those which existed before the advent of Training Packages, and of competency-based training more generally. The relatively ‘weak’ nature of some of these post-1997 qualifications has been discussed by Smith (2010a) and others including Wheelahan and Moodie (2011). A further explanation for the existence of a strong qualifications-based culture in fitting/machining as compared to concrete could be that higher qualifications at degree level are available in production engineering, but there are no such qualifications in the concrete products industry. Thus the metals industry as a whole, not only the occupation of fitter/machinist, has a history and tradition of qualifications and of training.

Conclusion The research indicated that there are many similarities between the types of work and parallels in the skills levels of these two occupations, which are not reflected in similar levels of public awareness of, or regard for, the occupations. The insightful comment by the worker in Case Study 2b, referring to the lack of a ‘trade’, and to the consequent lack of awareness of young people about the occupation, is telling – although, of course, a qualification does exist: it is simply under-utilised and under-developed.The fitting/machining occupation, on the other hand, has created, over many decades, a strong ‘brand’, which means it is readily identifiable and publicly visible, and attractive to school-leavers, and retains an intensive and rigorous apprenticeship curriculum with a substantial body of knowledge. A practical application of the findings in the chapter would be the systematic utilisation and further development of the concrete qualification. This could have many beneficial effects, including greater visibility of the job and attractiveness to young people. It would then become more common for employers to have an expectation that their concrete product operators would hold qualifications, perhaps gained during employment in traineeships in the same manner as fitting and machining apprenticeships. A demand for qualification

50  Erica Smith

from employers (Grugulis & Lloyd, 2010) would be crucial for the development of concrete product operators to become more systematic, and hence for the occupation to become more widely recognised. The presence of greater numbers of qualified workers would lead to greater respect for the occupation (Jones, 1989). The systematic comparison of these similar but contrasting occupations that has been presented in this chapter could usefully be applied to other important jobs whose occupational preparation is currently haphazard.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to acknowledge the other members of the project team: Anne Junor, Ian Hampson and Andy Smith. While the author carried out the research in the two occupations discussed in this chapter, all members of the research team contributed to the planning of the project, the development of the research instruments and the cross-occupational analysis.

References Advanced Manufacturing Growth Centre. (2017). Advanced Manufacturing: A New Definition for a New Era. Sydney: Advanced Manufacturing Growth Centre. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2016). 6202.0 Labour Force Australia 2015. Canberra: ABS. Business Council of Australia and Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry. (2002). Employability Skills for the Future. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training. Commonwealth of Australia. (2017). Australian Jobs 2017. Canberra: Department of Employment. Accessed 29 January 2018. http://joboutlook.gov.au/ Gilfillan, G. (2016). Trends in Apprenticeships and Traineeships. Canberra: Parliamentary Library Briefing Book. Accessed 29 January 2018. www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/ Parliamentary_Departments/Parliamentary_Library/pubs/Br iefingBook45p/ Apprenticeships Grugulis, I. and Lloyd, C. (2010). Skill and the Labour Process: The Conditions and Consequences of Change. In P. Thompson and C. Smith (Eds.) Working Life: Renewing Labour Process Analysis (pp. 91–112). London: Palgrave Macmillan. Guthrie, H. and Smith, E. (2015).The Effects of a Radical Change in Funding Rules for VET in Victoria, Australia. In L. Fraser and R. Mas Giralt (Eds.) It’s All Adult Education: 42nd Annual Conference of SCUTREA, the Standing Conference on University Teaching and Research in the Education of Adults (pp. 214–221). University of Leeds, 7–9 July. IBISWorld. (2017a). IBISWorld Industry Report C2033: Ready-mixed Concrete Manufacturing in Australia. Melbourne: IBISWorld. IBISWorld. (2017b). IBISWorld Industry Report C2034: Concrete Product Manufacturing in Australia. Melbourne: IBISWorld. Jones, F. (1989). Occupational Prestige in Australia: A New Scale. Journal of Sociology, 25, 187–197. Manufacturing Skills Australia. (2015). Manufacturing: Advancing the Conversation, MSA Environmental Scan 2015. Sydney: Manufacturing Skills Australia.

Occupational preparation for manual work 51 National Centre for Vocational Education Research (NCVER). (2018). VET Students by Industry Series. Adelaide: NCVER. Accessed 29 January 2018. www.ncver.edu.au Smith, E. (2010a). A Review of Twenty Years of Competency-based Training in the Australian Vocational Education and Training System. International Journal of Training and Development, 14, 54–64. Smith, E. (2010b). Apprenticeships. In P. Peterson, B. McGaw and E. Baker (Eds.) International Encyclopedia of Education, 3rd edn,Vol. 8 (pp. 312–319). Oxford: Elsevier. Smith, E. and Junor, A. (2016). Using Multiple Iterative Research Methods in a National Research Project. ACSPRI (Australian Consortium for Political and Social Research Inc.) Social Science Methodology Conference. University of Sydney, 19–22 July. Smith, E. and Keating, J. (2003). From Training Reform to Training Packages. Tuggerah Lakes, NSW: Social Science Press. Smith, E., Smith, A., Tuck, J. and Callan,V. (2017). Continuity and Change: Employers’ Training Practices and Partnerships with Training Providers. Adelaide: NCVER. Smith, E. and Teicher, J. (2017). Re-thinking Skill Through a New Lens: Evidence from Three Australian Service Industries. Journal of Education and Work, 30, 515–530. Wheelahan, L. and Moodie, G. (2011). Rethinking Skills in Vocational Education and Training: From Competencies to Capabilities. Sydney: NSW Department of Education and Communities.

Appendix

Fitter/machinist and concrete products operator: ‘Scale’ findings from company case study interviews

These tables are based on the Australian list of employability skills (A1, B1), other skill indicators as described in the literature (A2, B2) and literacy/numeracy requirements (A3, B3). The following legend is used in all tables: Senior Line Manager = M, HR or training manager = H, Supervisor(s) = S,Workers = W.

Fitter and machinist Table 3.A1 Findings about the requirements for each of the list of ­e mployability skills for the occupation of fitter and machinist, from case study interviews Site 1a, brakes factory, n = 6

Low

Communication Team work Problem solving Initiative and enterprise Planning and organising Self management Learning skills Technology skills

Site 1b, sugar mill, n = 6 Communication Team work Problem solving Initiative and enterprise Planning and organising Self management Learning skills Technology skills

Low

Medium

High

MS M W1 W2 W3 H M H S W1 W2 MS MH H W1 M H S W1

H W1 W2 W3 HS M S W1 W2 W3 W3 H W1 W2 W3 S W1 W2 W3 M S W2 W3 W2 W3

Medium

High

H S2 W2

M S1 S2 W1 W2 M H S1 W1 M H S1 S2 W1 W2 M W2 S1 S2 H S1 W1 W2 M S1 S2 W1 W2

H M M H M

S1 S2 W1 H W1 W2 S2 H S1 S2 W1 W2

Note: All respondents answered for the job of metal fitter and machinist, not their own job.

Table 3.A2  Other elements of the job: extent to which these applied in the job Site 1a, brakes factory, n = 6

Low

Level of complexity Level of autonomy (deciding what to do yourself) Level of judgement/discretion Pace of work (pressure) Variety in work Proportion of time spent on non-routine activities

Site 1b, sugar mill 2b, n = 6 Level of complexity Level of autonomy (deciding what to do yourself) Level of judgement/ discretion Pace of work (pressure) Variety in work Proportion of time spent on non-routine activities

S

Low

S1 W2

Medium

High

M H W1 H S W1

S W2 W3 M W2 W3

M H S W1 M H S W1 W3 M S W3 M W1 W2 W3

W2 W3 W2 H W1 W2 H

Medium

High

M H S1 W1 W2 S1 S2 W1W2

S2 MH

M W1 W2

H S1 S2

M H W1 W2 W1 S2 M H S2 W1

S1 S2 M H S1W2

Table 3.A3  Level of literacy/numeracy requirements of the job Site 1a, brakes factory, n = 6

Low

Literacy requirements Numeracy requirements

Site 1b, sugar mill, n = 6 Literacy requirements Numeracy requirements

Low

Medium

High

M H S W1 W2 W3 M H S W1

W2 W3

Medium

High

H S1 S2 W2 H S1 W2

M W1 M S2 W1

54  Erica Smith

Concrete products operator Table 3.B1 Findings about the requirements for each of the list of employability skills for the occupation of concrete products operator, from case study interviews Site 2a, pre-mix, n = 4

Low

Communication Team work Problem solving Initiative and enterprise Planning and organising Self management Learning skills Technology skills

Medium

High

W1

S M W1 W2 S M W2 S M W1 W2

S M W1 W2 S W1 S W1 W2 M W1 W2

S M W1 W2 M W2 M S

Note: All respondents answered for the job of concrete products operator, not their own job.

Site 2b, pre-cast, n = 6 Communication Team work Problem solving Initiative and enterprise Planning and organising Self management Learning skills Technology skills

Low

S M HR M M HR S W1 W2 W3

Medium

High

HR S W2 HR W1 M HR W2 W3 M HR S W1 W2 S W2 W3 HR W3 M S W2 W3

M W1 W3 M S W2 W3 W1 W3 W1 S W1 W2 HR W1

Table 3.B2  Other elements of the job: extent to which these applied in the job Site 2a, pre-mix, n = 4 Level of complexity Level of autonomy (deciding what to do yourself) Level of judgement/discretion Pace of work (pressure) Variety in work Proportion of time spent on nonroutine activities

Low

Medium

High

M S W2 W1 M

S W1 W2

W1 W2 W1 M W1

MS S W2

SM S M W1 W2 W2

Site 2b, pre-cast, n = 6

Low

Medium

High

Level of complexity Level of autonomy (deciding what to do yourself) Level of judgement/discretion Pace of work (pressure) Variety in work Proportion of time spent on non-routine activities

W2 M

M HR S W3 HR W1 W3

W1 S W2

M

HR S W1 W3 W2 M S W2 W3 M W1 W3 W1 W3

HR W1 HR S

W2 M HR S W2

Table 3.B3  Level of literacy/numeracy requirements of the job Site 2a, pre-mix, n = 4

Low

Literacy requirements Numeracy requirements

Medium

High

S M W1 S M W1

W2 W2

Site 2b, pre-cast, n = 6

Low

Medium

Literacy requirements Numeracy requirements

S W2 W2

M HR W1 W3 M HR S W1 W3

High

Chapter 4

Perspectives of beginning trades tutors on teaching and learning Selena Chan

Introduction In the New Zealand (NZ) Institutes of Technology and Polytechnics (ITPs) sector, teachers of occupational disciplines associated with traditional and modern vocational occupations are usually called “trades tutors”. In the majority of trades, tutors bring with them many years of experience as tradespeople prior to employment at an ITP.They enter the ITP sector with well-established vocational identities within their field of expertise (Chappell, 1999; Chan, 2012). Additionally, many will have worked in positions of responsibility before they became ITP tutors. Therefore, these trades tutors are acknowledged experts in their craft and belong to substantial communities of practice (Wenger, 1998). However, trades tutors beginning teaching at an ITP are also expected to engage with the culture of teaching practice. This requirement to ‘become teachers’ is especially important given the complexities of teaching at ITPs. Trades tutors are employed to teach vocational subjects leading to qualifications at Level 2 (foundation or preparation for further academic or vocational study) through to Level 6 (Advanced Diploma) within the 10-level NZ qualifications framework. Students studying at Level 2 may be completing units of study at ITPs as part of their school-based NZ Certificates in Education Attainment (NCEA). School leavers with Level 2 NCEA may then progress on to Level 3 ITP pre-trade programmes.These pre-trade programmes prepare learners for entry into work as apprentices or entry-level workers. Apprenticeships generally lead to Level 4 qualifications and some trades include post-­apprenticeship Diploma (Level 5) and Advanced Diploma (Level 6) qualifications. NZ apprenticeship programmes lead to qualifications based on graduate outcomes (Chan, 2016) which delineate skills, knowledge and attributes, and educational and occupational pathways attained through qualification completion. The vast majority of apprenticeship learning occurs through participation and engagement with work. Work-based learning is often supplemented and supported by day-release, night class and block courses at ITPs. Some trades training also require apprentices to complete learning components through ‘correspondence’ or ‘distance’ study, often delivered through ITPs. Hence, trades tutors

Perspectives of beginning trades tutors 57

are expected to teach across levels of learning from foundation to advanced diploma. At the foundation level, academic skills – including literacy, numeracy and digital literacy – are integrated into programmes of study. Teaching levels 4–6 programmes, requires specialised technical knowledge as applied to the expertise and skill sets of trades or technical occupations. Additionally, with the emphasis on educational pathways laid out in the NZ vocational education system, some trade qualifications, notably in engineering and construction, lead on to degree level qualifications. Therefore, trades tutors teach across a range of levels of learning from foundation to degree. They have to be conversant with teaching strategies to ‘embed literacy and numeracy’ into situated learning activities and maintain currency in their occupational knowledge and skills. ITPs also deliver programmes across a range of approaches. Trades tutors teach students using face-to-face classroom or workshop sessions, support students’ ‘self-directed learning’ through ‘blended’/‘flipped classroom’ arrangements and teach ‘distance’ learners using synchronous and asynchronous digital technology interfaces. Importantly, trades tutors are also ‘models’ to their students of the important dispositional aspects of their trade, assisting their students to learn not only how to do, think and feel but also to become and be trades people (Chan, 2013a). In particular, assisting learners to attain important dispositional aspects of trades work, exampled by approaches to work which include aspects of ‘craftsmanship’ (Chan, 2014). Additionally, learner profiles for VET programmes in NZ reveal them to come from diverse backgrounds (Commission, 2015). Diversity includes ethnicity, socio-economic histories and educational preparation for study. NZ ITPs are required by their funders, the Tertiary Edcuation Commission (TEC), to ensure all learners and especially industry (i.e. apprentices, trainees and other workers completing their learning through qualifications in the workplace), including Pasifika and Maori learners, are provided with parity of outcomes (Commission, 2015).Therefore, new trades tutors are challenged with the need to establish a new form of vocational identity as teachers, coupled with acceptance into and participation in the complexities of the vocational education community of practice (Chappell, 1999). Support of vocational educators is required as they integrate their disciplinary knowledge towards adoption of pedagogical approaches to inform their teaching (Loo, 2014). Research on the scholarship of teaching has largely focused on university lecturers. Much of the literature from Higher Education teaching research is concentrated on the development of university lecturers as scholars and researchers (Andresen and Webb, 2000); (Boyer, 1990); (Brew, 2003). Therefore, the study reported in this chapter provides another viewpoint on how people from a trades background become teachers. The chapter also provides a forum for the trades tutor voice to be disseminated; currently, there are few avenues for these voices and perspectives to be shared. Importantly, this chapter presents the need to extend on trades tutors’ prior experiences with training apprentices in the

58  Selena Chan

workplace, towards enhancing learning for students in structured or formalised programmes of learning.

Relevant literature Occupational identity

Vocational or occupational identity is one of many which individuals will develop through their lives (Skorikov and Vondracek, 1998). Conceptualisations of the various differentiations of gender, race, ethnicity and/or nationally contribute towards individual or group identities. However, using identity as an encompassing term to describe how people view themselves and others requires caution (Brubaker and Cooper, 2000). Brubaker and Cooper (2000) recommend the use of identity only when there are ‘strong’ conceptions associated with a given form of identity. Strong conceptions include the following characteristics: a) identity is used to articulate shared understanding amongst people and groups, whether they are aware of that identity or not; and b) where collective identity suggests there is strong group belongingness and stability. Therefore, occupational or vocational identity meets these criteria for a ‘strong’ conception of identity. The reasons for occupational identity being ‘strong’ include the shared differentiations amongst people in how others see, and relate with individuals or groups bearing job titles or designations. The study reported in this chapter applies Vygotsky’s conceptualisation of learning and identity formation whereby identity is influenced by both individual agency and socio-cultural influences (Penuel and Wertsch, 1995). Billett (2006), using subjectivity as a descriptor of identity, supports a similar stance. Therefore, he proposes: individuals’ subjectivities comprise a set of conceptions, procedures beliefs and values and dispositions that are, in part, non-conscious (yet quickly become conscious when something we experience doesn’t fit) and, in part, conscious. Therefore, individual subjectivities and the allied concepts of sense of self and identity are essential to understanding engagement in work and learning. (p. 6) In addition, he reiterates the contribution of social influences, “institutional, normative and discourse practices that are associated with individual’s identity. Occupations, for instance, provide examples of these, and are ordered and valued in particular ways” (p. 7). Four assumptions are provided by Rodgers and Scott (2008) to contextualise the factors discussed in the previous section, to the specific identities associated with teaching. These are that identity is dependent and formed through interaction with multiple contexts (social, cultural, political and historical), formed

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through relationship with others and involves emotions, not static but “shifting, unstable and multiple”, and requires the “construction and reconstruction of meaning” through narratives (p. 733). Occupational identity as trades tutors

In the study reported in this chapter, the participant trades tutors’ deep attachment with their trades occupational identity are evident. Several recent studies on the Australian equivalent of trades tutors (i.e. teachers in Technical and Further Education – TAFE), including Chappell (1999), Palmieri (2004) and Robertson (2009), as well as the United Kingdom Further Education (FE) (Loo, 2014) sector, also support the concept of distinct vocational identities of teachers who come into teaching after establishment of a professional or technical career. These articles also detail the reluctance of these new teachers with surrendering aspects of trades vocational identity to adopt the identity of a teacher. For example, many Australian TAFE teachers do not acknowledge identities as teachers despite teaching for more than 10 years in the sector (Haycock and Kelly, 2009). Other authors (notably (Maurice-Takerei and Jesson, 2010); (Mealyea, 1998) also describe trade workers’ hesitancy with relinquishing aspects of their trades vocational identity to assume the identity of teacher. We can surmise from the previous paragraphs that teaching as learning (Lave, 1996) and the processes of learning as becoming (Hodkinson et al., 2008) involve the need for individuals to shift their worldviews, attain new ways of understanding the world (i.e. epistemological knowledge) and continually create and re-create vocational identities. Vocational identity is but one of the many identities which individuals develop as they proceed through their life course (Skorikov and Vondracek, 1998). When a shift in identities occurs, it may be described in various ways. One option from the current literature on identity attainment is to use the metaphor of ‘boundary crossing’. Jones (2007) defines boundary crossing as: interfaces, clear dividing lines between areas of different ownership or shared areas of context and can be seen in different contexts e.g. professional, geographical, political, philosophical and visual or graph. The concept of boundary can be seen as relevant to and therefore addressed by varieties of disciplines and professions. (p. 355) For example, boundary crossing is used to explain university academics’ assumption of a vocational identity as a process of continually transitioning between the identities of teacher and researcher (Manathunga, 2007). Boundary crossing is also used in the FE context to explain the learning undertaken by FE tutors to develop within an academic context (Finlay, 2008). Hence the continuous process of identity learning for teachers involves learning by making meaning

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and sense out of experiences, some of which may involve boundary crossing between identities (Giejsel and Meijers, 2005).

Conceptions of teaching Where does a conception of teaching come from?

For many, conceptualisations of teaching and learning are based on experiences of who taught us and our experiences as learners. These perspectives often remain unconscious and unarticulated.The notion of conception of teaching is elusive and people often confuse it with methods or strategies. Pratt and Johnson (1998) write about conceptions or perspectives as “a lens through which we view the world of teaching and learning” (p. 33), while Brookfield (1990) speaks of an “organizing vision” and “the essential forms and fundamental purposes of teaching” (p. 15) as anchoring points for teachers seeking to become skilful teachers. Following on from the overview on vocational identity described earlier, the contention may be made of new teachers bringing with them understandings of teaching acquired through their life histories (i.e. their ontologies). As trades tutors in NZ usually come into ITP teaching with many years of work experience, their experiences and understandings (i.e. the epistemology) of what constitutes good teaching are predicated on concepts related to their previous experiences as learners, both formal and workplace. Ways to categorise teaching conceptualisations

Relevant work undertaken in Australia on the criteria for good vocational education and training (VET) practitioners (Palmieri, 2004) and the 12 knowledge bases for TAFE teachers (Robertson, 2009) provides some guidelines for trades tutors’ teaching competencies. Broader viewpoints on teaching practice can be exampled by a perspectives inventory (Pratt and Johnson, 1998) comprising of transmission, apprenticeship, developmental, nurturing and social reform and the three discourses characterising “good teachers”: “charismatic subject”, “competent craftsperson” and “reflective practitioner” (Zukas, 2006). Hence, there are many possible frameworks to evaluate how teachers understand their practice. Each of the teaching perspectives inventory items and characteristics detailed earlier, along with several other distinct approaches to teaching and learning relevant to learning a trade, are now overviewed. Discussion on some selected approaches aligned with workplace learning approaches include cognitive apprenticeships (Collins et al., 1991), adult learning or andragogical theories (Knowles, 1984), and reflective learning and teaching (Schon, 1983).These approaches are now integrated into the discussions that follow.

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With the tranmissive approach to learning, teachers lead by setting up learning objectives, directing student learning, and adopting the role of content or subject matter expert (Pratt, Collins and Selinger, 2001). This approach, when aligned to learning at workplaces, places expectations on workplace trainers or apprentice mentors to be ‘experts’ who oversee workplace learning experiences of others who are ‘less’ knowing or experienced.The advantages of this approach centre on the teachers’ control of learning outcomes. Inherent disadvantages of the transmissive approach include the reliance of learners on their teachers, leading to learners’ dependence on their teachers as ‘founts of knowledge’. The apprenticeship approach is the most familiar to trades tutors, as they would have completed their trades training through apprenticeship. The apprenticeship approach includes assisting learners to become enculturated into the ways of doing, thinking and being a tradesperson (Chan, 2013b), contributing towards the development of individuals’ ways of knowing and becoming (i.e. their epistemology). Teaching is more than just “content transmission” but organised around “making expert’s thinking visible” (Collins et al., 1991) and helping learners to articulate their continually developing conceptualisations and skills. There are characteristics of learning through apprenticeship which have withstood the test of time. Mimetic learning processes through observation, imitation and practice, as a means to learn within human cultures (Billett, 2014), are well matched to how teaching and learning occur through apprenticeship learning. However, the disadvantage of a reliance on the apprenticeship approach include the difficulties in scaling up the mostly one to one teaching and apprentice relationship, to the classroom management issues of engaging and motivating larger groups of learners, as is standard in ITP teaching. The tenets of situated learning involve bringing authentic real-world problems, challenges and expectations into learning which may have to take place away from actual practice (Lave and Wenger, 1991). As with the apprenticeship approach, trades tutors, having attained their expertise through apprenticeship and workplace-based training, often structure their classroom practice around work practice. However, the efficacy of this approach is dependent on the workplace learning culture supporting the following: individual teaching and learning preferences of the people engaged in a ‘training’ role within the workplace, affordances provided through workplace organisation (Billett, 2001) and ‘agency’ or choices and motivation of workplace learners (Billett and Smith, 2006). The developmental and nurturing teaching approach is centred around learners’ progress. Learning is designed and planned to be ‘learner centred’ and ‘scaffolds’ along with appropriate ‘formative feedback’ touchpoints are organised to support the learning process. Effective teaching is not only about learning facts, but also includes helping learners attain dispositions that will assist them across their life course (Pratt et al., 2001). The drawback of an emphasis on the developmental and nurturing teaching approach is an over-reliance on pastoral

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care, which can become time consuming and lead to learners’ dependence on teacher support.

Research method The research question of the project was “What are the perspectives of beginning trades tutors of their roles as teachers?” A mixed-method case study, framed by a constructive-interpretive approach, informed the conduct of the study. The case studies were constructed through the collection and analysis of data via mixed methods. Firstly, quantitative data in the form of a structured questionnaire and qualitative data using semistructured interviews were used to gather perspectives of new trades tutors on teaching and learning. The structured questionnaire was completed to establish demographic and life history (i.e. ontological) baselines for each participant. Secondly, semi-structured interviews were carried out and recorded, with interviews ranging from 25 minutes to 45 minutes.Transcribed interviews were returned to the participants for their inspection, comment and amendment. Themes derived from the interview transcripts were coded using nVivo qualitative data analysis software. Potential participants were selected through recommendations from staff education or development teams at five NZ ITPs.Then, an initial email invited potential trades tutors to participate in the study, garnering 13 participants. A follow-up phone call established agreement for participation and to organise the logistics of setting up interview sessions. Twelve research participants were visited and interviewed at their ITP. One interview was conducted using a telephone interview. Data analysis

The data from the questionnaires and interviews were collated into case studies of each participant. Additionally, to better understand the teaching and learning perspectives of new tutors, interview transcript fragments were studied and coded to the characteristics proposed by Pratt et al. (2001) on a teaching perspectives inventory and the three discourses which characterise teachers (Zukas, 2006). This approach was undertaken to try to understand the participants’ impressions of teaching and to find out if there were commonalities across the participants’ understanding and approaches to teaching.

Findings Tutor profiles

The 13 participant tutors teach a range of traditional trades including automotive, building/carpentry, butchery, cooking, electrical trades, engineering/fitting, turning/welding, painting/decorating and plumbing. All the participants are male

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and at the time of the interviews, ranged in age from their late 20s to the early 60s. The median age was 40 years with just under half of the participants being in their mid-30s or younger. The school qualifications of the participants ranged from none through to several with the sixth form certificate (equivalent to GCE ‘O’ levels) and one with university entrance (equivalent to GCE ‘A’ levels). All had completed an apprenticeship and attained a Level 4 trade certificate or Level 5 advanced trade certificates. Two had extensive prior experience with information, communication and technology (ICT) literacy skills on entry into teaching. The ages of these two tutors were mid-30s and mid-f50s. Both were involved in the electrical trades, an occupation requiring ICT skills. All the other tutors entered the ITP sector with very limited ICT skills and were considerably challenged by the ICT skills required in their new roles as trades tutors. All the participants were working in positions of responsibility just prior to their entry into teaching. All had left industry to embark on teaching from positions of responsibility including foreman, project manager, workshop supervisor, store manager and executive chef. Six participants had at some stage in their careers owned and managed their own businesses. All were experienced with training apprentices in the workplace. The majority entered teaching with a strong motivation to teach and to ‘pass on the skills and knowledge of the trade’. Pseudonyms in the form of assigned Maori names are used in the interview vignettes presented in the following section to share the voices and perspectives of the participant trades tutors. The reporting of the findings begins with establishing the predominant occupational identity of participant trades tutors as being their trade and their reluctance to shift into being identified as teachers. Then the conceptualisations teaching of these trades tutors are reported. Identity formation as trades tutors

In this section, the perspectives of new trades tutors on vocational identity is reported. Firstly, 10 of the 13 participants indicated deep attachments to their identities as tradespersons. Two examples follow. Arana:

I think I am both because I can’t be one without the other really. And I need to maintain my integrity in having student respect by still being an electrician. So as far as work goes, I am a tutor but I still need that recognition as an electrician. The thing is they still have to wire up a house say, they still need someone to instruct them how to wire up a house. I got to still be a sparky. Arapeta: I love cooking, I live for food but I must admit I enjoy as much the mentoring side.Yeah, that’s right, it’s something I love, it’s easy to do, it’s a hobby for me. Cooking is not a job. Coupled with strong attachment to trades occupation identity, 11 of the tutors provided evidence of their reluctance to accept an identity as a teacher. The following statement is but one example which encapsulates participants’ viewpoints.

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Rawiri: I am not so focused on being a teacher; I don’t want to be a teacher; still want to be a chef that happens to teach. So I don’t want to be a tutor or a teacher that just happens to teach cooking. So I don’t know if that fits into the mould but 17 years of being locked away in a kitchen, cooking, I don’t want to lose that.To my student that’s what I am; I am a chef that happens to be standing in front of this class teaching them about what I love. And I don’t wanna to lose that. Therefore, participants expressed strong connections to their vocational identity as providing them with credibility as subject matter experts.The institutions these trades tutors worked in also encouraged and rewarded the maintenance of industry networks. ITP trades tutors were offered support through professional development leave, to ensure tutors continually returned to industry to retain and improve knowledge and skill in their specialist areas. Concepts of teaching in an ITP as compared to workplace training

During the interviews, participants were asked about their perspectives on how teaching at an ITP was different from providing workplace training to apprentices and other employees in the context of their previous employment. The differences as perceived by the participants included the following. When compared to training apprentices at work, teaching at an ITP required tutors to manage, engage and teach larger groups of students, and institutional policies required students to be treated as learners and not as workers. In turn, the emphasis at ITPs was learning instead of work production. However, all the participants were unable to actually state a model of teaching on which they based their teaching practice. This phenomenon is not limited to new teachers or trades tutors. For example, Murray and MacDonald (1997) report how many established university lecturers rely on their tacit knowledge (e.g. common sense) and could not provide educational theory-based explanations for their teaching practice. Hence, congruent with relevant literature, the interview vignettes from this study reveal many instances of adherence and reliance on a teaching model acquired through practice and honed by trial and error (Murray and MacDonald, 1997). However, thematic analysis applied across the case studies allow for a connection to be made between the participant trades tutors’ interview data and the teaching perspectives inventory proposed by Pratt et al. (2001) and the three discourses which characterise teachers (Zukas, 2006). Many of the research participants had a transmission of knowledge (Pratt et al., 2001) focus to their teaching practice. This approach could be explained by participants’ understanding of the application of the skills and knowledge of the trade as equating to the ability to practice as competent tradespeople.

Perspectives of beginning trades tutors 65

Hohepa: I think over the need to pass on any knowledge that I had to people who might find it useful. Rawiri: Not as such, I just have a huge passion for cooking and to me skill and knowledge is power. And I want to get as much out of the textbook and my head into the students’ heads and try and get across to them that this is their future, this is them. What they gain as knowledge today will determine what is in their salary package 10 years from now. Four of the participants revealed their teaching philosophies as being akin to cognitive apprenticeship (Collins et al., 1991) or an apprenticeship perspective (Pratt et al., 2001).The principles of cognitive apprenticeship models include encouraging teachers to ‘make their thinking visible to students’, to provide scaffolds for novices learning a skill and to provide role models for learners. Ropata: I could say ‘monkey see, monkey do’. They would just help me and I would show them practically and I would be talking about at it the same time and then as time went on, I would let them do a little bit and then a little bit more and a little bit more till I was confident they could do the whole thing on their own. And then I would even get them a van. I would send them to a one hour job and then I would see them again within an hour. How did it go? No worries? And then I would send them away for half a day and then I would send them away for a whole day and then the whole week before I even saw them. But you always had to constantly drive to their job and make sure everything was OK. This went on for four or five years. The first six months to a year, they will just shadow. There were indications of the use of the developmental and nurturing (Pratt et al., 2001) aspect of teaching. Hopepa: I think we learn to value the kids and to value them as people and that’s the biggest thing is for them to feel valued as well. Not exactly two people who are equal but both on the same learning path, I just happen to have a bit more knowledge than they have and accepting that they need to be taught in small bites rather than yelling and screaming at them all the time. Many of the participants emphasised the precepts of situated learning (Lave and Wenger, 1991), matching their long association with workplace learning approaches. In particular, the interview data showed willingness to adapt teaching practice to ensure off-job training replicated the actual workplace environment.

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Arapeta: I personally think that there could be a bit more practical and the learning needs to be integrated more into the practical environment because there seems to be this mental mind block when they [the students] walk into a classroom. Participant trades tutors described the need to establish a classroom environment based around workplace team working organisational hierarchies and processes. Again this was, for many of the participants, an effort at replicating the culture and systems of workplace practices leading to the provision of situated learning opportunities for their students (Lave and Wenger, 1991) Principles of adult learning (Knowles, 1984) and an awareness of the individual learning needs of students were also expressed by the tutors. Hemi:

Teaching of theory and practical. And being aware of who is in the class and what people bring with them into the class. Their previous history, experience, life skills and things. Using all their experience, people bring into the class. Using all that and making kind of that group dynamic out of it. So, [tutor training tutor] has made me aware that people have different skills, different needs. And making sure that you cater to the whole group. People at one end and people at the opposite.

Therefore, for the participant trades tutors’, perceptions of learning and teaching were informed by their life and work experiences. For many, experiences of school learning indicated disconnect between their affinity for ‘hands-on’ learning and the prevalent academic focused outcomes of school. Following on from school, successful apprenticeship and workplace learning experiences of these tutors affirmed their inclination for ‘learning by doing’. These learning preferences then informed new trades tutors’ teaching practice, as they sought to replicate workplace-like processes and outcomes within their teaching practice.

Discussion Moving from the known to the unfamiliar

Premised on ITP expectations of trades tutors to become teachers and the challenges presented to new tutors in shifting vocational identity from trades worker to teacher, a pragmatic solution is to leverage off trades tutors’ existing experiences and understanding of ‘how to learn a trade’. Drawing on the previous experiences of adult learners, is a precept of adult learning pedagogy (Knowles, 1984). In so doing, the prior experiences of trades tutors are respected but also utilised as the beginning point for continual professional development to support trades tutors to become effective vocational educators. The recommendations derived through the study are now further discussed in this section.

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Apprenticeship model to provide mentorship for new tutors

All of the participant trades tutors had completed their apprenticeships. Workplace learning approaches are therefore familiar territory although perhaps something the trades tutors have subsumed into their tacit knowledge. It is therefore prudent to utilise the affinity trades tutors percieve they have with workplace learning approaches, to support new trades tutors’ entry into teaching. Hence, the ‘teacher apprentice’ being mentored by a more experienced trades tutor provides a recognisable and reassuring model for assisting novices to settle into a new work environment and culture. The mentoring process is useful in assisting the border crossing process involved when transitioning between the complimentary vocational identities of tradesperson and trades tutor. Support for ‘trades tutor mentors’ is also recommended to ensure teaching skills relevant to trades learning are reinforced through pertinent teaching development strategies. Apart from the ‘apprentice trades tutor’ mentoring process, another approach will be to utilise ‘team-teaching’ as a means for new trades tutors to observe, ‘imitate’ and practice (i.e. through mimetic learning) vocational teaching strategies. A supportive environment is therefore provided to ease new trades tutors into the expected culture of ITP teaching. Another supportive approach is to include theories of learning pertinent to workplace and trades-based learning into teacher training curriculum for traded tutors Additionally, to provide a scaffold into the scholarship of teaching and learning, it is recommended to adjust the curriculum of initial tutor training courses to include theories of learning closely related to workplace and trades-based learning. These theories include some detailed earlier in this chapter. These include cognitive apprenticeship (Collins et al., 1991), distributed cognition (Hutchins and Klausen, 1998) and situated learning (Lave and Wenger, 1991). Other appropriate frameworks include the literature on learning motor skills from sports psychology, the work established through the ethnographical traditions on learning through apprenticeship and contemporary work on practicebased learning. Examples from sports psychology which have wide application to learning a trade include work on understanding how to teach complex motor skills (e.g. (Masters and Poolton, 2012), recommendations and discussions on applying the precepts of deliberate practice (Macnamara et al., 2014) towards skills requiring repetition and considerable practice to hone and the literature on attaining expertise through deliberate practice (Ericsson, 1996). Multidisciplinary ethnographical studies of relevance to apprenticeships include the seminal work of Lave on tailors (Lave, 2011), Marchand on mudbrick building (Marchand, 2008) and the learning of wood-working students (Marchand, 2010), and the work of Singleton on Asian artisanal apprenticeships (Singleton, 1989). In this corpus of literature, the socialcultural and sociomaterial aspects of learning a trade are investigated and

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elucidated. The literature selected should be matched to the disciplines of trades tutors, allowing for affinities to the occupation to assist with better understanding of the scholarly genre and assist the development of academic literacies. Recent work in the higher education sector, particularly within the preparation of students entering health sector occupations (see Billett and Choy [2013] for an example), also provide important contributions of relevance to ‘teaching a trade’. In particular, these studies provide recommendations on how to improve the socio-cultural affordances for students required to learn and practice skills, apply knowledge and attain important occupational specific attitutes within challenging, hectic and dynamic workplaces. The earlier discussion proposes several processes to assist with trade tutors’ development of teaching skills, knowledge and dispositions and attainment of their vocational educator identity. The recommendations discussed are to inform vocational educator curriculum development. The curriculum should encourage the enabling and empowering of trades tutors to draw on their experiences and their perspectives on teaching and learning, and deploy them towards the provision of quality learning experiences for their students.

Conclusion This chapter argues for the leveraging of tradespeople’ extensive workplacebased ways of knowing and tacit understanding of learning in the workplace to enable transition into teaching to be made more smoothly. Trades tutors have accumulated, through their ontologies, a deep-seated attachment to their trade occupational identities, and familiarity with workplace learning practices. These trades tutors’ knowledge attained through life experiences should inform the curriculum design and teaching and learning approaches for vocational teacher education. The approaches suggested in the discussions presented throughout this chapter utilise tradespeople’ extensive workplace-based centred and tacit understanding of learning in the workplace, which have been accumulated through their life experiences, to extend learning and application of pertinent and contemporary scholarship on teaching and learning. The recommendations support new trades tutors’ belonging process for establishing themselves into the ITP academic communities of practice. These supports lead on to the overall enhancement of student learning, improvement in teaching staff efficacy, and a commitment to ongoing professional development as tradespeople and trades tutors.

References Andresen, L. W. & Webb, C. A. 2000. Discovering the Scholarship of Teaching, Richmond, Sydney: University of Western Sydney Hawkesbury.

Perspectives of beginning trades tutors 69 Billett, S. 2001. Learning at work: Workplace affordances and individual engagement. Journal of Workplace Learning, 13, 209–214. Billett, S. 2006. Constituting the workplace curriculum. Journal of Curriculum Studies, 36, 31–48. Billett, S. 2014. Mimetic Learning at Work, Dordrecht, Netherlands: Springer. Billett, S. & Choy, S. 2013. Learning through work: Emerging perspectives and new challenges. Journal of Workplace Learning, 25, 264–276. Billett, S. & Smith, R. 2006. Personal agency and epistemology at work. In: Billett, S., Fenwick,T. & Somerville, M. (eds.) Work, subjectivity and learning: Understanding learning through working life, Netherlands: Spinger. Boyer, E. L. 1990. Scholarship Reconsidered: Priorities of the Professoriate, Princeton, NJ: The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Brew, A. 2003. Teaching and research: New relationships and their implications for inquirybased teaching and learning in higher education. Higher Education Research and Development, 22, 3–18. Brookfield, S. 1990. The Skillful Teacher, San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Brubaker, R. & Cooper, F. 2000. Beyond identity. Theory and Society, 29, 1–47. Chan, S. 2012. Perspectives of new trades tutors: Boundary crossing between vocational identities. Asia Pacific Journal of Teacher Education, 40, 409–421. Chan, S. 2013a. Learning a Trade: Becoming a Trades Person Through Apprenticeship, Wellington, NZ: Ako Aotearoa Southern Hub. Chan, S. 2013b. Learning through apprenticeship: Belonging to the workplace, becoming and being. Vocations and Learning: Studies in Vocational and Professional Education, 6, 367–383. Chan, S. 2014. Crafting an occupational identity: Learning the precepts of craftsmanship through apprenticeship. Vocations and Learning: Studies in Vocational and Professional Education, 7, 313–330. Chan, S. 2016. New Zealand’s move to graduate-profile framed qualifications: Implications, challenges and the occupational identity solution. International Journal of Training Research, 14, 5–18. Chappell, C. 1999. Issues of Teacher Identity in a Restructuring VET System, Sydney: University of Technology Sydney. Collins, A., Brown, J. S. & Holum, A. 1991. Cognitive apprenticeship: Making thinking visible. American Educator, 15, 38–47. Commission, T. E. 2015. Tertiary Education Strategy 2014–2019. [Online]. Available: www.education.govt.nz/assets/Documents/Further-education/Tertiary-EducationStrategy.pdf Ericsson, K. A. 1996. The acquisition of expert performance: An introduction to some of the issues. In: Ericsson, K. A. (ed.) The road to excellence:The acquisition of expert performance in the arts and sciences, sports and games, Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Finlay, I. 2008. Learning through boundary-crossing: Further education lecturers learning in both the university and workplace. European Journal of Teacher Education, 31, 73–87. Giejsel, F. & Meijers, F. 2005. Identity learning: The core process of educational change. Educational Studies, 31, 419–430. Haycock, J. & Kelly, D. 2009. From ‘trade teacher’ to ‘critically reflective practitioner’:The relationship between theory and occupational identity formation in TAFE teachers. Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association Conference 12th, Sydney: Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association.

70  Selena Chan Hodkinson, P., Biesta, G. & James, D. 2008. Understanding learning culturally: Overcoming the dualism between social and individual views of learning. Vocations and Learning, 1, 27–47. Hutchins, E. & Klausen, T. 1998. Distributed cognition in an airline cockpit. In: Engestrom, Y. & Middleton, D. (eds.) Cognition and communication at work, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Jones, I. F. 2007. The theory of boundaries: Impact on interprofessional working. Journal of Interprofessional Care, 21, 355–357. Knowles, M. S. 1984. The Adult Learner: A Neglected Species, Houston, TX: Gulf PublicationCompany, Book Division. Lave, J. 1996. Teaching, as learning, in practice. Mind, Culture and Activity, 3, 149–164. Lave, J. 2011. Apprenticeship in Critical Ethnographical Practice, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Lave, J. & Wenger, E. 1991. Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation, Cambridge, UK; New York, NY: Cambridge University Press. Loo, S. Y. 2014. Placing ‘knowledge’ in teacher education in the English further education sector: An alternative approach based on collaboration and evidence-based research. British Journal of Educational Studies, 62, 337–354. Macnamara, B. N., Hambrick, D. Z. & Oswald, F. L. 2014. Deliberate practice and performance in music, games, sports, education, and professions: A meta-analysis. Psychological Science in the Public Interest, 25, 1608–1618. Manathunga, C. 2007. ‘Unhomely’ academic developer identities: More post-colonial explorations. International Journal for Academic Development, 25, 25–34. Marchand, T. H. J. 2008. Muscles, morals and mind: Craft apprenticeship and the formation of person. British Journal of Educational Studies, 56, 245–271. Marchand, T. H. J. 2010. Embodied cognition and communication: Studies with British fine woodworkers. In: Marchand, T. H. J. (ed.) Making knowledge: Explorations of the indissoluble relation between mind, body and environment, Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Masters, R. S. W. & Poolton, J. M. 2012. Advances in implicit motor learning. In: Hodges, N. J. & Williams, A. M. (eds.) Skill acquisition in sports: Research theory and practice, 2nd edn, London; New York, NY: Routledge. Maurice-Takerei, L. & Jesson, J. 2010. Nailing down an identity: The voices of six carpentry tutors. New Zealand Journal of Teachers’Work, 7, 156–170. Mealyea, R. J. 1998. Humour as a coping strategy in the transition from tradesperson to teacher. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 10, 311–333. Murray, K. & Macdonald, R. 1997. The disjunction between lecturers’ conceptions of teaching and their claimed educational practice. Higher Education in Europe, 33, 331–349. Palmieri, P. 2004. Approaches to the idea of the ‘good teacher’ in vocational education and training. Australian Association for Research in Education, Melbourne, Australia. Penuel, W. P. & Wertsch,V. 1995.Vygotsky and identity formation: A sociocultural approach. Educational Psychologist, 30, 83–92. Pratt, D., Collins, J. B. & Selinger, S. J. 2001. Development and use of the teaching perspectives inventory (TPI). Adult Education Research Association. Pratt, D. & Johnson, J. 1998. The apprenticeship perspective: Modelling ways of being. In: Pratt, D. (ed.) Five perspectives on teaching in adult and higher education, Malabar, FL: Krieger Publishing Company.

Perspectives of beginning trades tutors 71 Robertson, I. 2009. TAFE Teacher’s knowledge bases: Analysis of the Diploma in VET practice. Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association Conference, Sydney. Rodgers, C. R. & Scott, K. H. 2008. The development of the personal self and professional identity in learning to teach. In: Cochran-Smith, M., Feiman-Nemser, S., Mcintyre, D. J. & Demers, K. M. (eds.) Handbook of research on teacher education: Enduring questions in changing contexts, 3rd edn, New York, NY; London: Routledge. Schon, D. 1983. The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action, New York, NY: Basic Books. Singleton, J. 1989. Japanese folkcraft pottery apprenticeship: Cultural patterns of an educational institution. In: Coy, M. W. (ed.) Apprenticeship: From theory to method and back again, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Skorikov, V. & Vondracek, F. 1998. Vocational identity development: Its relationship to other identity domains and to overall identity development. Journal of Career Assessment, 6, 13–35. Wenger, E. 1998. Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning and Identity, Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press. Zukas, M. 2006. Pedagogic learning in the pedagogic workplace: Educators’ lifelong learning and learning futures. International Journal of Pedagogies and Learning, 2, 71–80.

Chapter 5

A typology of occupational teachers’ capacities across the three academic levels Sai Loo

Introduction This chapter investigates the perspectives of teachers who are involved in occupation-related programmes across the three academic levels of preuniversity, higher education and professional education. ‘Occupational teaching’ may be defined as the teaching of work-related courses where there is a duality of pedagogic and occupational/work-related practices and experiences, and academic teaching, i.e. where its immediacy is related to disciplinary/theoretical knowledge and not necessarily to occupational pathways, co-exist. The occupational teaching has immediate relevance to work-related experiences and practices whereas the academic teaching has less obvious work connections such as accreditation pathways to related occupations for the former and not necessarily the latter. (Loo, 2018, p. 4) Occupational teaching is the focus of this chapter, and it includes teaching across the academic levels of technical and vocational education and training (TVET), higher vocational/first-degree and professional education. In some countries like the United Kingdom and Australia, TVET may also be known as vocational education and training (VET), which are pre-university offers. TVET is used to denote an international perspective (UNESCO, 2012) rather than the ‘English context’ which is associated with the socio-cultural baggage of the ‘academic-vocational’ divide and its associations relating to class, parity of esteem and disadvantaged groups in England (Loo and Jameson, 2017). This chapter follows on from an empirically based project (Loo, 2018) that investigated the types of teaching and learning using the different forms of recontextualisation and “the types and applications of know-how leading up to the occupational teachers’ capacities”, which had the beginnings of a typology (Loo, 2018, p. 118). This chapter refers to these pedagogic activities of recontextualisation across the three academic levels of occupational provisions

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and develops the capacities further to ascertain a typology. The purpose of the typology classification is to offer greater insights into how teachers on the occupational programmes who have work-related experiences (in addition to pedagogic experiences) utilise varied sources, types and functionalities of their know-how. A teacher’s capacities, for this chapter, are defined eclectically to include knowledge, pedagogic, occupational and relevant life experiences, and a teacher’s abilities, capabilities, dispositions, judgement, skill sets and techniques. This chapter refers to empirical examples of the teachers’ know-how to form a typology of the recontextualised activities. The typology is drawn from the classifications of the literature review and analysed empirical data via the recontextualisation processes. The chapter has five sections. Following the introduction, the second section discusses the relevant theoretical frameworks, which draw on knowledge classifications and recontextualisation processes.The third section offers details of the project, while the fourth is a discussion of the pedagogic examples by teachers in the three academic levels. The concluding section provides a summary of the investigation, contributions and implications for the stakeholders: teachers, managers and teaching institutions, and policymakers.

Literature review This section is organised in the following manner. Bernstein’s (1996) recontextualisation concept is delineated along with the relevant processes. This approach is to structure this literature review, and the section on findings and discussion as the creation of a typology of these recontextualisation processes is the main aim. Next are the types and sources of teaching knowledge that are required. This is followed by the applications of the know-how. The delineations of these conceptual frameworks offer the appropriate classifications in the typology of the teachers’ pedagogic activities. The complexity of this study of occupational teaching by teachers with their professional/occupational practices and experiences begins with an acknowledgement of a fundamental notion of ‘dual professionalism’ (Peel, 2005). These teachers carry out their pedagogic activities in their work-related programmes and have professional experiences of practising in the related occupations. This study acknowledges the significance of knowledge and that Bernstein offers a pedagogical perspective of acquiring, using and evaluating teaching knowledge. Bernstein argues that the ‘distributive rules’,‘recontextualizing rules’ and ‘evaluative rules’ govern these pedagogic activities.The distributive rules concern the ‘what’ regarding knowledge. They “regulate the relationships between power, social groups, forms of consciousness and forms of practice to social groups” (Bernstein, 1996, p. 42). The recontextualising rules refer to the ‘how’ knowledge is used for teaching.The principle behind recontextualisation refers to the selective appropriation, relocation, refocus and relation with other discourses to constitute its order (Bernstein, 1996). The “evaluative rules constitute any

74  Sai Loo

pedagogic practice” (Bernstein, 1996, p. 43). This section focuses on the ‘how’ to understand the ways that teaching know-how concerning occupational provisions. For Bernstein (1996), recontextualising rules govern the selection, relocation, refocus and relations with vertical discourse or knowledge. Vertical discourse is defined as “coherent, explicit, systematically principled structure, hierarchically organised, or it takes the form of a series of specialised languages with specialised modes of interrogation and specialised criteria for the production of texts” (Bernstein, 1996, p. 171). For Bernstein (1996), there are two types of vertical knowledge: hierarchical knowledge structure (e.g. knowledge of physics and mathematics) and horizontal knowledge structures (e.g. knowledge of the humanities and social sciences). This recontextualisation notion is helpful as it offers insights into how an aspect of an occupational curriculum (e.g. gas fitting, dental hygiene and Emergency Medicine) may be selected for used in a specific occupation that is appropriate at that academic level and for that professional context. Post-Bernsteinian researchers have offered various types of recontextualisation processes. Barnett (2006), using work-related programmes, recognises reclassificatory and pedagogic recontextualisation processes. For Barnett (2006, p. 147), the first type refers to a “toolbox of applicable knowledge” and the strategies governing professional practices, and the second relates to how disciplinary knowledge (e.g. physics and biology) needs to be modified and related to the specific occupation for teaching purposes. In so doing, Barnett links the recontextualisation processes to the teaching of work-related programmes as a two-stage process of learning. However, Barnett’s explanation of his two recontextualisation processes is scant. For a more comprehensive delineation, we turn to Evans, Guile, Harris and Allan (2010). They offer four types of recontextualisation processes from the learners’ perspectives of workrelated offers such as aircraft engineering. They are content, pedagogic, workplace and learner. Content recontextualisation is when explicit or codified knowledge (e.g. disciplinary, procedural and work processes) is selected and recombined for use in curriculum and teaching activities. Pedagogic recontextualisation refers to how this selected knowledge is applied to teaching, and workplace recontextualisation relates to the use of know-how in the workplace. Learner recontextualisation concerns the ways that a learner uses different ways of acquiring the know-how for work purposes. They offer greater insights into how the four types of recontextualisation may apply in teaching and work contexts. Their wider definitions of know-how of codified disciplinary and work-related knowledge, and tacit varieties, skills and capabilities provide greater intellectual possibilities of viewing knowledge. The author (Loo, 2012) focuses on the acquisition and application of knowhow from a teacher’s perspectives on work-related programmes. He identifies five complexities in understanding occupational pedagogy, the first three being the types of knowledge associated with non-teaching occupational

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practices; the pedagogic contexts of academic levels, learner types, subjects, programmes and teaching cultures; and the teacher education routes. The fourth complexity relates to the continuous professional development of this dual professional practice and the combination of the four complexities in understanding occupational pedagogy. His identification of these pedagogic complexities enables researchers to understand how recontextualisation processes may be further related to teaching. Loo (2014) suggests ‘ongoing recontextualization’ as one which involves “disciplinary knowledge between subject areas and between disciplinary/theoretical knowledge and every day (tacit) experiences” (p. 352). The explication of explicit and tacit knowledge is useful as it acknowledges the relationship between the two varieties of know-how, which Bernstein ignored. Loo also recognised that in any recontextualising process, the related expertise would be changed or modified as a result of its selection, refocus and relocation (i.e. recontextualisation process). This modification of knowledge resides in the perceptions of the users. So, an occupational teacher of Emergency Medicine views the skeleton from the perspectives of her/his specific clinical experiences and in Emergency Medicine practices, and not purely from an anatomical perspective. This ongoing modification of the know-how becomes part of the user (practitioner and teacher), and one can argue it may become second nature to the user. The ongoing process also affects how one views the explicit and tacit qualities of knowledge, the nature of the know-how from a collaborative or individualistic standpoint, and its trajectory from one type of know-how to another. Research by Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) is pertinent to this perspective as it offers how explicit and tacit knowledge forms are combined and recombined for use in work activities. The earlier forms of recontextualisation processes are used to conceptualise a theoretical framework of the occupational pedagogy of these teachers. Drawing from Evans et al.’s. (2010) content recontextualisation, the related know-how may be used for two practices. Using dual professionalism (Peel, 2005) as a starting guide, there are two varieties of content recontextualisation. The first relates to teaching where know-how is used to develop a curriculum, and the second refers to specifications for occupational practice in a specific profession such as gas fitting or dental hygiene.The know-how is more likely to be associated with knowledge of disciplines such as sociology and business management for teaching purposes like learning theories. Know-how from a Bernsteinian perspective may be viewed as horizontal knowledge structures. This type of content recontextualisation relates to the form of vertical knowledge known as ‘horizontal knowledge structures’. Turning to the second type of content recontextualisation, the disciplines for occupations may be disciplines of biology, physics and mathematics (Becher, 1994; Smeby, 1996). These forms of theoretical or vertical knowledge are “coherent, explicit and systematically principled structure” (Bernstein, 1996, p. 171) and are known as hierarchical knowledge structures, a form of vertical

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knowledge. Becher (1994) refers to these as ‘hard-pure disciplines’ with resonances to Bernstein’s hierarchical knowledge structures.These are used to create content in a curriculum/specification. From a teaching perspective, via content recontextualisation, the disciplinary knowledge is modified, relocated and refocused for teaching in a specific work-related programme such as equine studies. From an occupational perspective, this know-how is changed in a different manner that is suitable for occupational practice. In both cases, the disciplinary knowledge undergoes a modification.Terms like ‘relevant to the profession’ may be linked to this process. Loo (2012, 2014) suggests that the process changes the nature of the knowledge and it becomes something else for the user. The two forms of recontextualised knowledge may be known as pedagogic and occupational knowledge respectively. The curriculum development stage undergoes another modification – pedagogic recontextualisation – for teaching purposes. Specific parts of the content are chosen for teaching purposes. Aspects of teaching know-how such as academic level, knowledge of learners, teaching institutional procedures, teacher’s vision, teacher’s occupational and life experiences (Clandinin, 1985; Shulman, 1987;Verloop,Van Driel and Meijer, 2001; Loughran, Mitchell and Mitchell, 2003; Loo, 2012) are also required. Some of the teaching know-how may be explicit or tacit (Polanyi, 1966; Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995; Collins, 2010). Additionally, ‘work knowledge’ is also required as it refers to the procedures, protocols and systems of the teaching organisation (Evans et al., 2010). Together, these knowledge types enable the teacher to relocate and modify the teaching knowledge for a targeted session in a specific occupational programme. These knowledge types after recontextualisation become applied pedagogic knowledge. A similar process happens for occupational practices where forms of occupational and work knowledge of procedures, skills, techniques, transversal abilities, project management abilities, personal capabilities and occupational awareness (Clarke and Winch, 2004; Eraut, 2004; Hager, 2004; Winch, 2014) are required for the occupational recontextualisation process. This modified know-how becomes applied occupational knowledge. For an occupational teacher, the pedagogic and occupational know-how is then combined via the integrated applied recontextualisation (IAR) process to form occupational pedagogic knowledge where teaching strategies may be chosen to teach a session of an occupational offer. The choice of strategy available can be elucidated in sources such as Lucas, Spencer and Claxton (2012), Huddleston and Unwin (2013), and Fry, Ketteridge and Marshall (2014). The first two sources offer a comprehensive listing of teaching strategies in the Further Education (FE) sector (i.e. TVET). The final reference provides disciplinary-related teaching strategies in higher and professional education. This theoretical framework of the occupational pedagogy of a teacher offers profound insights into how forms of teaching know-how (including that of a

Occupational teachers’ capacities 77

teacher’s occupational practices) can be acquired and applied to a pedagogic session of an occupational programme.The delineation of this framework offers a structure for classifying the professional practices using empirical findings in the penultimate section.

Project details The empirical data comes from a project with these related research questions: 1 What is occupational pedagogy? 2 How is its related knowledge acquired and applied by those teaching on the programmes? (Loo, 2018) ‘Occupational pedagogy’ is used to denote teaching and learning across the academic levels of vocational/TVET, higher vocational/first-degree, and professional education. This chapter draws on all the 21 purposive participants in the three levels with seven from each of the levels.The salient details of the participants are indicated in Table 5.1. The research methods included a questionnaire survey, semi-structured interviews and documentary search. The survey offered details such as gender, age, pedagogic, occupational and relevant life experiences, and academic and occupational/professional qualifications, following a pilot study. The interviews captured data related to the participants’ sources, types and applications of their teaching know-how. The documentary evidence, such as programme specifications, was amassed to triangulate data with the other two sources. The data were analysed using generated codes, identified phrases, patterns and themes. In addition to thematic analysis, a narrative analysis (Robson, 2002) was also applied wherein the participants’ narratives were used to delineate their pedagogic activities. Included in this analysis are metaphors and analogies. Narratives are employed, even though they are taken for granted in research because they capture the insights and nuances of teachers that are pertinent to this project. In so doing, the data capture the articulations, metaphors and symbolic representations of their sense of selves and their professional actions (Cameron, 2008). These articulations also capture the pedagogic processes of simplifying and clarifying complex ideas to themselves and their learners (Bullough and Stokes, 1994) and their contestations (Volkmann and Anderson, 1998). The teachers’ use of narratives and especially metaphors serve as means of understanding and making coherent (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980) their occupational experiences to their pedagogic activities. These analytical findings are then further developed to create a typology from the two dimensions: the recontextualisation processes and the three academic levels of provisions (Figure 5.1).

Singulars Explicit xplicit

Regions Generic modes

Content Recontextualization zation

Occupational rele relevance

Individual acit Tacit Collective

Explicit

Relational R S Somatic B Business S Social

Co Content/subject specificity knowledge G General pedagogical knowledge Curriculum knowledge Cu Pedagogical content Pe kknowledge Knowledge of learners and K llearning Knowledge of educational K ggoals and values K Knowledge of educational contexts (team, institution and policy) O Occupational knowledge

Pedagogic Recontextualization ntextualization

Tacit

Language of articulation and L collaboration O Occupational experiences and practices Pedagogical experiences P Life experiences L Personal values P

Figure 5.1  Typology of recontextualisation processes * CPD: continuous professional development

Explicitt

Th Theoretical knowledge (of ddisciplines and applied ttheoretical) Knowledge of resources Kn Systematic knowledge Sy Methodological knowledge and Me techniques te Ge General knowledge Kn Knowledge of the workplace

Occupationall Recontextualization

Tacit

Teaching strategies

P Prior knowledge (occupation) S Skills set T Techniques A Abilities (transversal and project management) K Knowledge of society and community K Knowledge of the workplace

Pr Professional standards Re Relevance to occupational practices via metaphors etc. p IT support Symbiotic relationship to Sy o occupational practices Et Ethical dimensions Te Teaching styles V Values

Integrated Applied Recontextualization

*CPD

Figure 5.1 (Continued)

Generic v Specific Gene Internal v External delivery Intern Pedag Pedagogy v Occupation Resea Research v Practice Leade Leadership v Management Socia Social-cultural v Wellbeing

Table 5.1  Details of participants Participant Teaching institutions/level Gender of academic qualifications Age

Full-time/part- Disciplinary areas time/years of teaching experience

Occupational/life experiences

OP1 Male 50s

FE college Level 4

Full-time 15 years

Gas services

Worked in the gas service industry as an engineer and as trainer and assessor

OP2 Female 50s

FE college Level 5

Full-time 8 years

Health and social care

Worked as health and social care worker and nursery nurse in the early years and childcare areas

OP3 Male 40s

FE college Level 4 (4 years p-t)

Full-time 3.5 years

Equine studies

Worked and performed in the equine industry and related governing bodies

OP4 Female 40s

FE college Level

Full-time 5 years

Equine studies

Worked in the equine industry

OP5 Female 50s

FE college Level 5

Full-time Art and design 13 years Fashion and (6 years in textiles HEIs) Currently 0.6

OP6 Female 40s

FE college Level 4

Full-time 7 years

OP7

Adult and community Level 5

Part-time

Male 40s

Worked in banking and retail (craft and museums); currently working as a fashion designer Travel and tourism Worked in the airline industry as part of a cabin crew for 8 years Art – painting and Working as an printmaker and printmaking architect

Participant Teaching institutions/level Gender of academic qualifications Age

Full-time/part- Disciplinary areas time/years of teaching experience

Occupational/life experiences

OP8 Female 40s

FE college Level 5

Full-time 15 years

Business and Accountancy

Lived and worked abroad as a Chartered Accountant and with the British Army

OP9 Female 50s

HEI Level 4

Part-time 14 years

Dental hygiene and psychology

Lived abroad and working as a dental hygienist for 31 years and was in the British Navy

OP10 Female 50s

HEI Level 5

Part-time 15 years

Dentistry

Working as a community dental officer for 32 years

OP11 Female 50s

HEI Level 4

Part-time 20 years

Dental hygiene

Working as a dental hygienist for 25 years

OP12 Male 50s

FE college Level 4

Full-time 4 years

Accountancy

Worked in industry as an accountant and finance director for 4 years

OP13 Female 60s

FE college Level 4

Full-time 11 years

Accountancy

Worked in industry as an accountant for 18 years

OP14 Female 30s

HEI Level 4

Part-time (2 days/wk)

Dental therapy

Working as a dental therapist for 8 years

OP15 Female 30s

HEI Level 5

Full-time 8 years

Clinician (in undergraduate medical education)

Worked as a general practitioner (Continued)

Table 5.1  (Continued) Participant Teaching institutions/level Gender of academic qualifications Age

Full-time/part- Disciplinary areas time/years of teaching experience

Occupational/life experiences

OP16 Male 40s

HEI Level 5

Full-time 10 years

Emergency Medicine

Working as a consultant in the Accident and Emergency

OP17 Male 40s

HEI Level 5

Part-time

Emergency Medicine

Working as a locum in the Accident and Emergency

OP18 Male 30s

HEI Level 5

Full-time 1 year

Emergency Medicine

Working as a trainee in the Accident and Emergency

OP19 Female 40s

HEI Level 5

Full-time 2 years

Clinician (on the Worked as undergraduate a strategic medical education) business analyst in the banking sector, a director in a mobile communications company and as a general practitioner

OP20 Male 40s

HEI Level 5

Part-time 7 years

Vascular surgery

Working as a surgeon in several hospitals including in Accident and Emergency

OP21 Female 30s

HEI Level 5

Part-time 8 years

General practice

Working as a general practitioner partner in a medical centre and worked in Accident and Emergency

Occupational teachers’ capacities 83

Discussion This section offers examples of the recontextualisation processes of occupational teachers across the three academic levels of work-related programmes. As with the literature review section, the ordering of the recontextualisation processes starts with examples of the content recontextualisation of teaching and occupational practices and is followed by pedagogic and occupational recontextualisation examples and finally examples of the integrated applied recontextualisation. The literature reviews carried out earlier were employed to assist in the structuring of this typology. Content recontextualisation (Evans et al., 2010) refers to the modification of explicit and tacit knowledge. Explicit knowledge identified by Becher (1994), Bernstein (1996) and Smeby (1996) offers a possible classification structure of codified knowledge. Bernstein’s (1996) distributive rules of pedagogic device distinguish vertical and horizontal discourses or knowledge. Bernstein argues that only vertical discourse can be recontextualised, i.e. selected, relocated and refocused. The vertical and horizontal discourses are immutable. The vertical discourse is divided into hierarchical knowledge structure (which is “systematically principled structure and hierarchically organised” such as physics and mathematics), and horizontal knowledge knowledge structures (which are a “series of specialised languages with specialised modes of interrogation” such as the humanities and social sciences) (Bernstein, 1996, p. 171). The former type of vertical knowledge is similar to the hard-pure variety identified by Becher (1994) and Smeby (1996), which they also termed ‘natural sciences’. Participant OP1 (Table 5.1) refers to this variety as “basic knowledge of physics, mathematics, and chemistry” in his teaching of gas fitting provisions at the TVET level. The latter type of vertical knowledge is exemplified by OP2’s description of the use of ‘behavioural management concepts’ in health and social care programmes. A detailed explanation of Bernstein’s vertical and horizontal discourses is located in Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education (Loo, 2018, pp. 19–24). From the recontextualisation rules perspective, Bernstein did not distinguish the possible forms of this process but instead referred to the recontextualising of vertical discourses. By inference, he might be referring to Evans et al.’s content recontextualisation where ‘disciplinary’ knowledge is selected, relocated and refocused for pedagogic purposes. Post-Bernsteinian researchers such as Evans et al. (2010) and Loo (2014, 2018) do not necessarily adhere to Bernstein’s immutability of the vertical and horizontal knowledge in recontextualisation. For them, vertical or explicit and horizontal or tacit (to put these in simple terms) may be involved in the recontextualisation process. For Bernstein (1996), the two forms of vertical knowledge after recontextualisation may be modified into three possible modes: singulars, regions and generic. Singulars are bodies of knowledge that are usually associated with academic disciplines such

84  Sai Loo

as physics and psychology. Regions are derived from recontextualising singulars into units such as those found in engineering and medicine. The occupational areas from this investigation might have traction in this region mode of recontextualisation. They include accountancy, dental hygiene, Emergency Medicine and General Medicine. These occupations use hierarchical knowledge structures such as mathematics, biology, anatomy and psychology in teaching. OP9, a teacher of dental hygiene, refers to the need to have a “wider knowledge of biology (from nursing)”. The teachers, via content recontextualisation, have to select, refocus and relocate the hierarchical knowledge structures to make them relevant to the specific occupational studies. The teachers also use knowledge from the other disciplines such as psychology, sociology and management to relate pedagogic content knowledge to teaching. Examples include OP13’s use of Skinner learning theory for rote learning in her teaching of accountancy and OP19’s description of her reference to the spiral curriculum in her teaching of undergraduate medical education. The generic mode is not necessarily reliant on academic or applied academic disciplines, unlike the other two modes. This mode can be competency and function-related such as TVET provisions in the FE sector. Examples of these from the project include airline studies, equine studies, and fashion and textiles. For a detailed explanation of the recontextualisation modes, please refer to pages 32–34 in Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education (Loo, 2018). Turning to another form of knowledge for possible recontextualisation (and thus moving away from Bernstein’s immutability concept of vertical and horizontal knowledge), we look at the tacit variety of knowledge (Polanyi, 1966; Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995; Collins, 2010). Polanyi’s variety is related to the sciences whereas Collins’s varieties are societal-related, of the relational and somatic varieties. The relational type is associated with someone who is not aware of another person’s lack of awareness of the know-how, and the somatic variety refers to an unexplainable but conscious facility such as riding a bicycle. Concerning the collective versions, Collins views tacit knowledge at a community or societal level whereas for Nonaka and Takeuchi it is a business-oriented variety where people apply their tacit experiences for the production of goods and services. OP15, who worked as a general practitioner (GP) and is currently teaching on a medical education programme indicated that explicit and tacit knowledge is needed where her GP experience helped in her teaching of medical students. OP14, a dental therapy teacher, indicated that she remembered what she used and “developed more of understanding when applying them”. For OP14, the acquisition and practising of her know-how become “second nature” to her eventually. This initial conscious nature of know-how, which becomes second nature (somatic) after numerous applications offers an exam­ ple of Nonaka and Takeuchi’s journey-making from one type of know-how to another.The statement also illustrates Loo’s (2014) ongoing recontextualisation where the knowledge modifies and morphs into different forms of understanding. The user views this know-how differently after recontextualisation.

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Common aspects of Emergency Medicine practice were recounted by OP20. He worked as a surgeon and in Accident and Emergency. He referenced his tacit knowledge as being part of a team and his use of “real-life patients feedback”. This tacit variety is more related to the sciences in clinical medicine (Polanyi, 1966), and the collective team learning is of Collins’s (2010) typology. The final category of knowledge that is not discussed by the related researchers relates to ‘occupational relevance’ of know-how. OP11, a part-time dental hygienist and lecturer in that occupational provision, used the term “tailor to dental hygiene” to describe the need for the disciplinary knowledge to be modified for her occupational practices (both for teaching and work practices). OP21, working as a GP and teaching in medical education programmes, was more explicit in saying “disciplinary knowledge including basic science, biology and The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guidelines. Though these are the same subject matter, they are not in an application which requires recontextualising distinct professional experiences to specific professional practice”. The statement offers connections between ‘occupational relevance’ knowledge category with explicit (i.e., basic science and biology) and tacit (i.e., professional experiences and practices) types. The fluidity between the three knowledge types is not to be dismissed, and these connections illustrate the real-life nature of these knowledge types. The typology as described is illustrated in Figure 5.1. Turning to the pedagogic recontextualisation, literature reviews of teaching knowledge offer a structure of these practices. Shulman (1987) elucidated his seven explicit teaching knowledge categories, including general pedagogical knowledge (consisting of strategies and principles of classroom organisation), pedagogical content (which is a combination of content and pedagogic know-how), and knowledge of educational contexts such as teamwork, institutional values and related policies. Loughran et al. (2003) focus on the tacit aspects of teaching know-how while Verloop et al. (2001) view the explicit and tacit characteristics of teaching knowledge as a language of articulation which is shared with collaboratively.They subscribed to some of Shulman’s categories such as subject matter, knowledge of students and their learning. They also centre on tacit and intuitive aspects of teachers. Clandinin (1985) takes the tacit know-how further with her ‘personal practical knowledge’ that encompasses the experiences of teachers. These experiences, in theory, can include past life and pedagogic experiences and practices. Loo (2012) explicitly includes teachers’ occupational experiences and practices as part of the wide definition of teaching know-how. Banks et al.’s (1999) wide classification of teacher knowledge includes Shulman’s typology of subject knowledge, school/teaching institution knowledge and pedagogic knowledge. They also offer another category, ‘personal subject construction’, which provides scope to include tacit varieties such as a teacher’s past experiences and views. These pedagogic recontextualisationrelated classifications, when further analysed and developed, are featured in Figure 5.1. The related examples follow next.

86  Sai Loo

Knowledge of educational contexts is described by OP2 (a teacher of health and social care) and OP5 (a teacher of fashion and textiles). For OP2, “the college [FE] requires a whole year plan including individual sessions”, for OP5, teachers “are encouraged to experiment and the college’s openness to experiment using analogies and software”. These two narratives offer insights into the institutional values and approaches to teaching and learning as espoused by Shulman (1987). Examples of knowledge of learners and their learning include are offered by OP2, OP8 and OP18 and OP19. OP2 stated, “by the end of the first year of the Business and Technology Education Council (BTEC) course, learners developed synthesis, analytical and critical skills and discussion abilities”. These are a specialist work-related qualification at the pre-university level in England. OP8 (a teacher of accountancy) viewed her students’ learning as from a “learner centred teaching where there was a maximum of 10 minutes input, peer assessment and she used team building activities such as a visit to Brockland Farm” to learn about her learners and offer peer-to-peer interactions. OP8’s approaches to knowing her learners also include incorporating her educational values and those of her teaching institution. She subscribes to tacit forms of collaborative teaching and learning as the various categories of teaching know-how are not mutually exclusive. These examples also show that far from being mutually exclusive, there are overlaps and connections in the types of teaching knowledge.The suggested typology merely offers a structure by which greater insights into teaching know-how are perceived and applied where relevant. OP18 (a teacher of Emergency Medicine) understands his learners in his use of the appropriate teaching strategies. For him, medical students and junior doctors are offered formal and informal assessment approaches in their theoretical inputs in his hospital. However, at the students’ medical schools, the teaching was still didactic. However, with consultants, a more formal approach is used, perhaps acknowledging their learned peers’ expertise and showing them a certain level of respect. OP19, a lecturer at a medical school, explains that learners of “years 1 and 2 are [likely] to be didactic in their learning and teaching and that in year 3, they find learning very difficult”.The nature of this difficulty may be because they are placed in actual medical settings such as in an Accident and Emergency department where there are more opportunities for informal learning and teaching compared to their medical school settings.These students may also have pre-conceived ideas of what learning and teaching entail. OP6, an airline studies deliverer, touches on curriculum and content knowledge where she “uses her industrial experiences and narratives as there are no textbooks”. The lack of explicit and codified occupational knowledge emphasises the greater reliance on her occupational practices and experiences (i.e., occupational knowledge). Finally, some tacit examples of teaching know-how include Clandinin’s personal practical knowledge, which relies on the teacher’s past pedagogic experiences, past life, and occupational practices and experiences. OP5, a teacher of fashion and textiles, “uses her research knowledge via exhibitions, etc. and ex-students and from business contacts” to offer her learners a

Occupational teachers’ capacities 87

much broader industrial perspective. OP12, in his accounting sessions, “draws on individual experiences and students’ need to experiment . . . uses real-world scenarios from individual experiences, the links with local businesses”. Finally, OP20, a surgeon and teacher, was clear about his reliance on “tacit knowledge, e.g., learning from students, teaching that is based on evidence, team learning [with peers and learners] and the use of real-life patients feedback”. The penultimate process – occupational recontextualisation – refers to the activities that teachers as practitioners (e.g. clinicians in Emergency Medicine) perform in work settings other than teaching. The concepts by Clarke and Winch (2004), Eraut (2004), Hager (2004), Hodkinson et al. (2004) and Winch (2014) help to structure the typology (Figure 5.1).The examples are taken from the 21 participants (Table 5.1). Clarke and Winch (2004) are advocates of the front-loaded approach to occupational learning, which is the acquisition of theoretical know-how at a teaching institution before it can be used in work contexts. They view this know-how as “applicable theory and practice appropriately informed by theory” (Clarke and Winch, 2004, p. 519). Eraut (2004) focuses on the work-related contexts of learning. He offers a classification of know-how of theoretical knowledge, methodological knowledge (relating to procedures), practical skills and techniques, generic skills (e.g., IT and interpersonal communication), and general knowledge (e.g., cultural values). His explicit knowledge is those of the disciplines and knowledge resources (like the Internet) and tacit ones such as understanding of contexts, stakeholders, decision-making and judgement). Hager (2004) also subscribes to learning in work settings and goes further to argue that learning can occur purely in work environments alongside occupational practices. Hodkinson et al. (2004) develop a human dimension of workplace learning that includes workers’ prior knowledge, understanding and skills, their dispositions/abilities and their sense of belonging to the workplace. Winch (2014) takes Eraut’s typology and widens it in its inclusion of these knowledge types. They are systematic knowledge (i.e., a theory that is applied in work contexts), technique (as procedural), skill sets for specific occupational contexts. Others include transversal abilities (which includes planning), management abilities (such as patience) and occupational capacity (i.e., awareness of the impact of the occupational practices with the wider society). The typology framework does not privilege one approach (e.g. front-loaded) to another (e.g. learning at work). It merely uses the different classifications to offer a classification of know-how via the recontextualisation processes. Drawing from these classifications where there are overlaps such as theoretical knowledge, techniques and skills, and abilities, a typology of occupational recontextualisation know-how is created again using the two knowledge classifications of explicit and tacit forms (Figure 5.1). Examples of OR are included next. Examples of theoretical knowledge include OP3’s description of equine “knowledge of show jumping, dressage, a theory of horses getting into a box”, and OP18 is conscious of the need

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of “retention of [his] theoretical knowledge [of Emergency Medicine] for practice”. Regarding systematic knowledge, OP19, who teaches on an undergraduate medical education programme, stresses the relevance to “move from disciplinary knowledge, e.g., anatomy which is purely theoretical to a more applied form, e.g., bones and feet using a spiral curriculum [in teaching]”. Staying with Emergency Medicine, OP16 mentions the use of pattern recognition and ‘fast-slow thinking’ in decision-making in his professional practice. This decision-making process illustrates the technique and methodological knowledge as well as systematic knowledge. In the knowledge of the workplace, OP8, a teacher of accounting, mentions that “teachers need industrial experiences especially the Association of Accounting Technicians (AAT) students ask teachers for practical examples” and OP18 emphatically stresses that an “accident and emergency ward is different to other wards”. AAT qualifications are offered at up to the first-degree level. For the tacit varieties, knowledge of the occupation and its broader environment include remarks by OP1, a teacher of gas servicing, where “real life experiences, e.g., being called to a house the next street from mine” to inspect a gas leak where the house eventually blew up. OP3, in equine studies, indicated “occupational knowledge was practical knowledge in the old days with Harvey Smith’s [famous and colourful equestrian rider] ‘get on the horse and get on with it’ no-nonsense approach”. OP10, in dental hygiene, emphasised skills of “how to handle/manage an anxious child, adult with learning difficulties, strategies (drawing from behavioural science) . . . communication with children and the use of body language” in her dental clinic. Of prior/occupational knowledge, OP14, in dental hygiene, refers to the use of “life experiences to connect with patients and explain to them why you’re doing something, e.g., tooth brushing”. OP19, in medical education, mentions her unusual past life experiences with her professional practice and teaching “life journey from banking, directorships, and general practice in the National Health Service (NHS) before teaching years 1 and 2 undergraduate medical education in the community and first degree in physics and music”. (NHS is a publicly funded national healthcare system in England.) The final recontextualisation process – integrated applied recontextualisation – offers insights into the last pedagogic activity, i.e., teaching strategies/approaches. This section focuses on typologies of the related factors of teaching strategies and the much under-researched tensions surrounding continuous professional development (CPD) needs (Figure 5.1). For factors relating to teaching strategies, IT support is referenced by OP1, in gas fitting, in his use of online software like Socrative, which offers crossword games and questions. OP14, in dental hygiene, refers to the professional standards and research activities in facilitating her teaching. OP1 uses “analogies of tractor and bicycle types” to illustrate the flow of gases in the working of a gas boiler as an example of the occupational relevance applying metaphors and analogies. OP5 and OP10 emphasise the dual professional dimensions of

Occupational teachers’ capacities 89

teaching and occupational practice. The tensions surrounding CPD include generic and specific (such as discipline-related) offers as expounded by OP12 where he lamented his college offered general CPD courses and not specific to his subject of accounting. Others, like OP21 in Emergency Medicine, indicated that there are both internal and external CPD opportunities in her institution. OP19 wanted CPD provisions around “leadership and management issues” though, for her, these were not necessarily similar roles. Finally, OP11, in dental hygiene, wanted a more macro approach to CPD to include inputs on “mental illness awareness and counselling for occupational colleagues”.

Conclusion This chapter focused on the recontextualisation processes of occupational deliverers across the three academic levels of TVET, first-degree and professional education offers. The chapter further developed the recontextualised activities of the teachers to create typologies of each of these activities relating to content, pedagogy, occupational and finally integrated applied pedagogy for use in teaching sessions. In doing so, the findings offer not just a theoretical framework of occupational teaching pedagogic processes, but they also contribute a classification of each of the four recontextualising activities that may apply to other disciplines other than the ones featured here. As shown in the discussions, none of the four recontextualisation processes is discrete, but instead is inter-connected – such as the symbiotic relationships between teaching and occupational practices. The inter-connectedness may account for a process’s complexity on the one hand and elusiveness on the other to researchers to date in arriving at a credible conceptual framework. As shown earlier, the pedagogic activities of these teachers of occupational programmes are very conflated to accord an easy understanding. The conceptual framework has four forms of recontextualisation to offer deep pedagogic insights. The typology may be applied across the three academic levels. It enables the users such as deliverers, teacher trainers and other stakeholders greater clarity as to the types of know-how/capacities (i.e., knowledge, abilities, skill sets and understanding) that are codified or tacit. This comprehensive definition of teaching knowledge offers its users much wider scope to comprehending this complex activity. The implications affect the stakeholders, managers and policymakers. For stakeholders such as teachers and teacher educators, the teachers’ pedagogic, occupational and life experiences and practices could be included and offered credible space for teaching. For teacher training, trainees could be given opportunities to reflect on their teaching practices along with peers to use the typology. This approach would facilitate the trainees’ education of integrating the different forms of know-how such as disciplinary and pedagogic knowledge, occupational and real-life experiences, and abilities and skill sets. Managers can use the typology in the planning of CPD in both teaching and work

90  Sai Loo

organisations so that these professionals are continually updated in their teaching and work practices. Policymakers can offer supportive structures including funding to facilitate the professionalisation of these occupational deliverers.

References Banks, F., Leach, J. and Moon, B. (1999). New understandings of teachers’ pedagogic knowledge. In J. Leach and B. Moon (Eds.) Learners and Pedagogy (pp. 89–110). London: Paul Chapman Publishing. Barnett, M. (2006). Vocational knowledge and vocational pedagogy. In M. Young and J. Gamble (Eds.) Knowledge, Curriculum and Qualifications for South African Further Education (pp. 143–158). Cape Town: Human Sciences Research Council Press. Becher, T. (1994). The Significance of Disciplinary Differences. Studies in Higher Education, 19, 151–161. Bernstein, B. (1996). Pedagogy, Symbolic Control and Identity:Theory, Research, Critique. London: Taylor and Francis Limited. Bullough, Jr. R. V. and Stokes, D. K. (1994). Analyzing Personal Teaching Metaphors in Preservice Teacher Education as a Means for Encouraging Professional Development. American Educational Research Journal, 31(1), 197–234. Cameron, L. (2008). Metaphor in the construction of a learning environment. In E. A. Berendt (Ed.) Metaphors for Learning: Cross-cultural Perspectives (pp. 159–176). Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Clandinin, J. (1985). Personal Practical Knowledge: A Study of Teachers’ Classroom Images. Curriculum Inquiry, 15(4), 361–385. Clarke, L. and Winch, C. (2004). Apprenticeship and Applied Theoretical Knowledge. Educational Philosophy and Theory: Incorporating ACCESS, 36(5), 509–521. Collins, H. (2010). Tacit and Explicit Knowledge. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Eraut, M. (2004). Transfer of knowledge between education and workplace settings. In H. Rainbird, A. Fuller and A. Munro (Eds.) Workplace Learning in Context (pp. 201–221). London: Routledge. Evans, K., Guile, D., Harris, J. and Allan, H. (2010). Putting Knowledge to Work: A New Approach. Nurse Education Today, 30(3), 245–251. Fry, H., Ketteridge, S. and Marshall, S. (2014). A Handbook for Teaching and Learning in Higher Education: Enhancing Academic Practice. Abingdon: Routledge. Hager, P. (2004). Front-loading, Workplace Learning and Skill Development. Educational Philosophy and Theory: Incorporating ACCESS, 36(5), 523–534. Hodkinson, P., Hodkinson, H., Evans, K., Kersh, N., Fuller, A., Unwin, L. and Senker, P. (2004). The Significance of Individual Biography in Workplace Learning. Studies in the Education of Adults, 36(1), 6–24. Huddleston, P. and Unwin, L. (2013). Teaching and Learning in Further Education: Diversity and Change. Abingdon: Routledge. Lakoff, G. and Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors We Live by. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Loo, S. (2012). The Application of Pedagogic Knowledge to Teaching: A Conceptual Framework. International Journal of Lifelong Education, 31(6), 705–723. Loo, S. (2014). Placing ‘Knowledge’ in Teacher Education in the English Further Education Teaching Sector: An Alternative Approach Based on Collaboration and Evidence Based Research. British Journal of Educational Studies, 62(3), 337–354.

Occupational teachers’ capacities 91 Loo, S. (2018). Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Loo, S. and Jameson, J. (2017). Introduction:Vocationalism in the English context. In S. Loo and J. Jameson (Eds.) Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy (pp. 1–6). Abingdon: Routledge. Loughran, J., Mitchell, I. and Mitchell, J. (2003). Attempting to Document Teachers’ Professional Knowledge. Qualitative Studies in Education, 16(6), 853–873. Lucas, B., Spencer, E. and Claxton, G. (2012). How to Teach Vocational Education: A Theory of Vocational Pedagogy. London: City and Guilds Centre for Skills Development. Nonaka, I. and Takeuchi, H. (1995). The Knowledge Creating Company: How Japanese Companies Create the Dynamics of Innovation. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Peel, D. (2005). Dual Professionalism: Facing the Challenges of Continuing Professional Development in the Workplace? Reflective Practice: International and Multidisciplinary Perspectives, 6(1), 123–149. Polanyi, M. (1966). The Tacit Dimension. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Robson, C. (2002). Real World Research: A Resource for Social Scientists and Practitioner-­Researchers. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Shulman, L. S. (1987). Knowledge and Teaching: Foundations of the New Reform. Harvard Educational Review, 57(1), 1–22. Smeby, J-C. (1996). Disciplinary Differences in University Teaching. Studies in Higher Education, 21, 69–79. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Culture Organisation (UNESCO). (2012). Building Skills for Work and Life. 3rd UNESCO TVET Congress, Shanghai, 16 May. Verloop, N., Van Driel, J. and Meijer, P. (2001). Teacher knowledge and the knowledge base of teaching. International Journal of Educational Research, 35(5), 441–461. Volkman, M. J. and Anderson, M. A. (1998). Creating Professional Identity: Dilemmas and Metaphors of a First-Year Chemistry Teacher. Science Education, 82(3), 293–310. Winch, C. (2014). Know-how and knowledge in the professional curriculum. In M. Young and J. Muller (Eds.) Knowledge, Expertise and the Professions (pp. 47–60). London: Routledge.

Chapter 6

Education and training in human movement programmes Stakeholder perspectives Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall Introduction Occupations in the Australian human movement industry are diverse and include a multitude of sub-disciplines such as sport event management, coaching, facility management, strength and conditioning, community health, and exercise and sport science. Students preparing to work in the human movement industry are therefore presented with many occupational choices, and education providers must support and guide students through this process. A consistent strategy used within the education sector is the provision of work-based learning (WBL). Through WBL, students participate in real-life industry experiences that relate to their studies, enabling them to explore the diverse human movement industry and identify the occupation that is most suited to their skills and interest. Throughout the literature there are numerous terms used to describe the real-life experiences that students complete as part of their studies. Internationally, The World Council and Assembly on Cooperative Education (WACE) use the term ‘cooperative and work-integrated education’ to describe their commitment to combining education with professional work experience (World Council and Assembly on Cooperative Education, n.d.). ‘Co-operative education’ is another term used in Canada (Co-operative Education and WorkIntegrated Learning Canada, 2017), North America (Cooperative Education & Internship Association, 2015) and New Zealand (New Zealand Association for Cooperative Education, 2016). In Australia, work-integrated learning (WIL) is the overarching term and is defined as ‘an umbrella term for a range of approaches and strategies that integrate theory with the practice of work within a purposefully designed curriculum,’ (Patrick et al., 2008, p. IV). Work-based learning falls under the term of WIL, and is defined as ‘learning that occurs in a work environment, through participation in work practice and process’ (Atkinson, 2016, p. 2).Work-based learning experiences that students complete as part of their studies will be featured throughout this chapter. Within WBL there are various stakeholders involved, and throughout the literature a range of terminology has been used to describe those stakeholders. According to Patrick et al. (2008), stakeholders include the staff of the

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education provider, students, industry (employers) and government. For the purpose of this chapter, ‘education provider/s’ will be used to describe the higher education (HE) and vocational education and training (VET) academic and administrative staff that provide structured education that is based on learning and teaching of curriculum. The term ‘student/s’ will be used to describe those stakeholders accessing education and who participate in WBL, and ‘industry supervisor/s’ will be used to describe stakeholders working in the human movement industry who provide WBL opportunities for students. This chapter will explore the education and training of students to prepare them to work within the diverse human movement industry in Australia. In doing so, the Australian education sector will be outlined with particular reference to the human movement industry; the important features of WBL will be identified; and the perspectives of human movement education providers, students and supervisors who participate in WBL will be explored.

Research question and method Given the broad nature of the human movement industry, this chapter seeks to identify the requirements of WBL for human movement education programmes within Australia. It also explores the impact of WBL on key stakeholders, including supervisor, student and education providers’ perspectives. Literature from the Australian VET and HE sectors and professional associations relevant to WBL were explored. The search terms ‘work-based learning,’ ‘work-integrated learning’ and ‘internships’ were used in conjunction with ‘human movement,’ ‘exercise science’ and ‘sports management.’ The terms were combined with ‘stakeholders,’ ‘supervisor,’ ‘student’ and ‘education.’ Course documents from education providers, including programme handbooks and course outlines, were also analysed.

Understanding the Australian education sector In Australia, the education sector is well structured, with countless education and training qualifications on offer. Overseeing the education sector is the Australian Government Department of Education and Training. In consultation with the states and territories, the Department monitors and manages the Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF) (AQF, 2017a). The AQF spans across both the VET and HE sectors (Table 6.1), providing guidance regarding student learning outcomes, qualification standards and student pathways within each sector (AQF, 2017b). Education providers apply the AQF by aligning disciplinespecific knowledge, skills and the application of knowledge and skills with the appropriate level of education. The Australian VET sector operates within a Technical and Further Education (TAFE) Institute (public) or via a private Registered Training Organisation (RTO) (Smith, 2016), with training packages developed to provide consistent

94  Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall Table 6.1  O verview of AQF Levels according to qualification and education provider AQF Level

Qualification

Education provider High school

Level Level Level Level Level Level Level Level

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Level 9 Level 10

Certificate I Certificate II Certificate III Certificate IV Diploma Adv. Diploma Bachelor Degree Graduate Diploma, Graduate Certificate, Bachelor Honours Masters Degree Doctoral Degree

 

VET

HE

      

     

Source: AQF, 2011.

competency standards to all students. The Australian Skills Quality Authority (ASQA) regulates the VET sector, ensuring that education providers and the accredited programmes they provide are high quality (ASQA, 2017). Individual VET human movement qualifications within the SIS Sport, Fitness and Recreation Training Package target potential occupations, including sport administration, community coaching and exercise trainer. Qualification pathways within the VET sector recognise that vocational pathways are not always linear (Commonwealth of Australia, 2015), with students able to complete generic units within a single training package that can be used within other training packages. This flexibility enables students to move within sub-disciplines of the human movement industry, where a variety of occupations exist. Flexible training packages within the VET sector are also important considering the age of the learners involved. Statistics demonstrate that 56.7% of learners who enrolled in Australian VET-level qualifications in 2016 were between 20 and 44 years of age (National Centre for Vocational Education Research, 2017). Considering the age of VET students, Illeris’s view of adult learners (2003) can be applied. Illeris (2003) viewed adult learning from three perspectives: working adults already secure in their working life who wish to keep up to date, adults who need to re-educate and upskill in new areas, and young adults who are developing their way into a working life. With the perspective that many students completing VET-level human movement certificates may be adults who are looking to retrain and upskill, the VET education sector must ensure they provide suitable opportunities for their students to succeed, including experiences within a WBL environment.

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Within the VET ‘SIS Sport, Fitness and Recreation Training Package,’ practicum hours range from 30 WBL hours for a Certificate III level to 50 WBL hours for a Diploma level (Service Skills Australia, 2015). Although WBL hours are not mandatory within the VET human movement training package, it is strongly supported by industry (Service Skills Australia, 2015). The SIS10 Implementation Guide (Service Skills Australia, 2015) supports a close working relationship between stakeholders with clearly identified roles, ensuring not only that accreditation requirements are met from an education provider and ASQA perspective, but also that students are provided with the opportunity to develop practical skills in alignment with their theoretical coursework. Higher education in Australia is generally provided within universities, including some private HE providers, with a focus on delivering AQF qualifications between Levels 5 and 10 (Table 6.1). Following the Bradley Review in 2008, the major review and reform to the Australian HE sector (Bradley, Noonan, Nugent & Scales, 2008), the Tertiary Education Quality Standards Agency (TEQSA) was established in 2011 to act as an independent statutory authority designed to regulate and assure quality within Australia’s HE system (TEQSA, 2012).With the recent release of TEQSA’s Guidance Note for Work-Integrated Learning (2017), maintaining quality education while encompassing WBL with employers in the industry is paramount to student learning, while reducing associated risks and ensuring student safety. The introduction of the Guidance Note highlights the importance of WBL within the HE sector and as a result WBL is embedded throughout numerous HE qualifications. Higher education providers of human movement programmes must consider the student demographics when considering WBL. Considering Illeris’s (2003) differing perspectives of adult learners, young adults who are developing their way into a working life make up the majority of HE students, with more than 57% of students 23 years or younger (Department of Education and Training, 2015).While attracting a younger demographic population to HE programmes, it is important to consider that they require not only an element of technical learning but also exposure to a range of career opportunities that will suit the development of their identity (Illeris, 2003). Through WBL, human movement students can experience a range of career possibilities that suit this ‘young adult’ cohort as they develop their professional identity. Professional bodies relevant for work-based learning in the Australian human movement industry

The Australian Collaboration Education Network (ACEN) is a professional association for industry, HE researchers, government and community representatives that support WBL in Australia (ACEN, 2017).The purpose of ACEN is to provide strategic leadership in the provision of WBL through areas such as research, scholarship and practice (ACEN, 2017) across all disciplines, including

96  Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall

human movement. In association with ACEN, Patrick et al. established ‘The WIL Report: A National Scoping Strategy’ (2008) which detailed WBL in Australian HE and was designed to increase opportunities for stakeholders to participate in WBL. This scoping strategy recognised the benefits of participating in WBL for stakeholders, including students (educational purposes and career direction), education providers (development of relationships with industry) and employers (recruitment and industry contribution) (Patrick et al., 2008). To further guide and lead WBL within Australia, ACEN developed the National Strategy on WIL in HE (ACEN, n.d). Within the strategy there is an emphasis on supporting and leading all key stakeholders by providing national leadership; clarifying government policy; building support to increase participation in WIL; and to ensure WIL is sustainable; has quality experiences with stakeholder participation; and growth (ACEN, n.d).The strategy also has a focus on supporting HE through the development of resources, processes and systems that will further develop WIL while working with businesses and community partners (ACEN, n.d). In human movement education, it is important that education providers develop resources for both supervisors and students. These resources need to be informative in describing the purpose of WBL, student learning outcomes and the associated processes. In addition, the National Strategy on WIL emphasises the importance of including accredited WBL content within the course curricula (ACEN, n.d). Therefore education providers must ensure that the curriculum reflects the human movement industry and that WBL experiences include opportunities for students to apply theory from their studies. Overall, the National Strategy on WIL has a strong focus on developing partnerships for all stakeholders involved (ACEN, 2017), which is a recognised practice underpinning the success of WBL within the human movement industry. As a result, it is imperative that education providers collaborate and engage both students and supervisors within WBL. While ACEN guides HE, government and all industries associated with WBL, within the Australian HE human movement industry, the sub-discipline of exercise and sport science must meet the professional standards of the accreditation body, Exercise and Sport Science Australia (ESSA). Founded in 1991, ESSA’s role is to provide a unified, driven national body to support and promote the profession (Parker et al., 2011) for a range of occupations, including strength and conditioning, community health and sports science (ESSA, 2016). Within the exercise and sport science sub-discipline, ESSA provides several accreditation options for individuals who have completed a human movement programme, with each individual accreditation level requiring an element of WBL. On a HE programme level, ESSA also stipulate minimum WBL hours for human movement programmes to be accredited through ESSA’s National University Course Accreditation Program (NUCAP). Programmes that are accredited through NUCAP provide students with an assurance that they will experience high quality learning and teaching while completing coursework that aligns with standard competency levels for the industry (ESSA, 2017). By

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2019, ESSA will require all HE providers of human movement programmes to be accredited through the NUCAP process, which includes minimum WBL hours. The inclusion of minimum WBL requirements for individual ESSA accreditation and accredited HE programmes highlights the importance of high standards within the human movement industry, and specifically through the use of WBL.

Work-based learning Through the government departments and professional bodies associated with the Australian education sector,WBL is a strategy by which education providers work with industry supervisors to provide students with real-life work experiences that align with their studies. Within the Australian VET and HE sectors, the structure of WBL can be applied in various formats. Some WBL programmes are embedded within a student’s coursework where they are required to complete projects for businesses within the community. Other WBL can be in the form of an internship programme where students work full time at a business that is relevant to their course.Work-based learning can also be a dedicated course that the student must complete that comprises of classroom theory and practical placement hours that the student completes with an organisation that is relevant to their studies. Linking work-based learning to theoretical perspectives

Experiential learning (Kolb, 2015), situated learning (Lave & Wenger, 1991) and adult learning theory (Illeris, 2003) are key philosophies that underpin WBL. Following such theorists as Dewey and Piaget (Kolb, 2015), the education sector has recognised the importance of Kolb’s model of experiential learning and, in particular, how it translates to WBL. According to Kolb (2015), experiential learning comes from real-life experiences and is often contrasted with learning that comes from a classroom or lecture setting. Based on this philosophy, embedding real-life WBL experiences that align with students’ studies is crucial in linking classroom theory and the application of theory to the practicalities of working in the real world. Situated learning further explores experiential learning by including a social element to the theory (Lave & Wenger, 1991).Through situated learning within WBL, students interact with industry supervisors, exchanging ideas and developing common goals. Being able to complete WBL in different industry settings enables students to experience various social environments within the human movement industry that may assist them to determine their preferred occupational pathway. Further to experiential and situated learning, it should be acknowledged that when viewing WBL from a student perspective, each student learns in a unique manner due to their past life experiences and current cognitive, social

98  Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall

and emotional levels. Furthermore, the interaction that occurs between the student and their surrounding environment needs to be considered in a social and cultural context. These concepts of adult learning were developed by Illeris in 2002 (Illeris, 2003) and provide another lens in which to further explore WBL from a student perspective.

Work-based learning in the human movement industry The Australian human movement industry is a large enterprise with many opportunities available to work within the industry. The Australian Bureau of Statistics (2012) indicated that the sport industry attracts the largest number of volunteers, equating to 2.3 million people. Additionally, in a population of 24.7 million people (ABS, 2017), 11.6 million Australians regularly participate in sport or non-competitive related physical activity (Australian Sports Commission, 2016). Given the extent of the human movement industry, occupations are diverse and include a broad range of sub-disciplines such as sport event management, coaching, facility management, strength and conditioning, community health, and exercise and sport science. When working within each of these sub-disciplines, skill sets such as good communication, time management, organisational and problem solving skills are essential. While there are some common skill sets required, each of the sub-disciplines within the human movement profession require specific knowledge, skills, values and attributes that reflect that particular sub-discipline area. Combining the diverse range of occupational employment in the human movement field with the enormity of the industry, it is evident that a complex environment exists. Education providers need to support students when they consider the various WBL opportunities available while ensuring students obtain the skills and knowledge required in their chosen sub-discipline area. In Australia, this predicament is addressed through students completing WBL in their VET and HE human movement studies. Work-based learning provides a crucial link between the Australian education sector and the human movement industry. Through the provision of WBL, education providers and supervisors guide and support students to ensure that, at the completion of their programme, they are well trained in the career of their choice. Australian education researchers have reported that WBL can provide genuine opportunities for career development for students and, more interestingly, that completing multiple WBL experiences can enrich student learning (Smith et al., 2009). Within the human movement industry, ESSA’s national accreditation requirements for students completing exercise and sport science qualifications include a minimum of 140 WBL hours; however, the ESSA guidelines do not specify the number of WBL experiences that students must complete. The VET sector suggest between 30 and 50 hours of WBL for human movement

Human movement programmes 99 Table 6.2 Overview of WBL placement hours in human movement programmes in HE Sub-discipline – Exercise & Sports Science UNIVERSITY Curtin University Deakin University Federation University James Cook University LaTrobe University Victoria University

1st year

2nd year

3rd year

TOTAL

– – – – – –

– –

140 140 150 100 + 40 70 140

140 140 250 140 140 140

–

100 100 710 200

100 70

– –

Sub-discipline – Sports Management Bond University Deakin University Federation University LaTrobe University

– – – –

100 150

– –

100 560 200

Note: Data for WBL placement hours from Curtin University (2017), Deakin University (2017a, 2017b), Federation University (2017a, 2017b), James Cook University (2018), LaTrobe University (2015, 2018), Victoria University (2017) and Bond University (2018).

programmes (Service Skills Australia, 2015) and also do not specify the number of WBL experiences to be completed. Education providers within the VET sector consistently offer one, 30–50 hour WBL experience, while HE providers in the exercise and sport science sub-discipline provide WBL experiences in a variety of ways. Table 6.2 demonstrates the variety of arrangements of WBL hours within Australian HE providers. Total WBL hours range from 140 to 250 hours for exercise and sports science programmes and between 100 and 710 hours for sports management programmes, with either one or two individual courses. Given that ESSA have not specified the number of WBL experiences for exercise and sport science students, and many other programmes are not mandated by an accreditation body, it opens greater opportunities for education providers who need to encourage students to complete multiple WBL experiences within the diverse human movement industry. While ESSA accreditation standards are applied to the HE exercise and sport science sector, the issue of encouraging students to complete multiple WBL placements in such a diverse occupational industry may not be consistent across the sub-discipline. The diversity in the exercise and sport science industry highlights the importance of students to complete numerous WBL experiences that will better assist them in identifying their preferred occupation with the discipline. There is disparity in the number of WBL experiences that are currently occurring across the Australian human movement industry, as well as the variance of specific hours between the VET and HE sectors for WBL. Advocating for students to complete more than one WBL experience within the human

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movement industry would provide a greater insight for students into the diverse industry, regardless of their education level or choice of education provider. Elements of quality work-based learning in human movement

Regardless of how education programmes within VET and HE structure WBL, and irrespective of the level of education the student is completing, the literature reviewed highlights that there are common features that students, supervisors and education providers identify as producing quality WBL. These features include collaboration, programme flexibility and goal setting. Collaboration

An important aspect of a successful WBL programme is the collaboration that occurs between all key stakeholders, with education providers, students and industry supervisors benefiting from such interactions (Coll et al., 2009). Key Australian publications on WBL have also identified that to enable quality WBL, stakeholders must collaborate and communicate effectively (Smith, 2012; Patrick et al., 2008). Although collaboration can be described as a purposeful relationship where all parties involved gain some benefit (Coll et al., 2009), individual benefits through collaboration may differ between stakeholders. Education providers delivering human movement programmes need to ensure that collaboration with industry employers through WBL enhance their connection with the community and the industry. Likewise, supervisors considered collaborating through WBL enhanced their image by being connected to the education provider (Coll et al., 2009; Ferkins, 2002). When human movement students were asked to identify the key benefits of participating in WBL, many reported that the networking opportunities that WBL provided were the highlight of their participation (Hall et al., 2017a), once again affirming the importance of collaboration. Conducting meetings between stakeholders of WBL at various stages of the students experience enhances quality outcomes for all stakeholders. For example, pre-WBL meetings with supervisors enable students to discuss the WBL programme (including their anticipated learning outcomes) and their responsibilities, and to provide an opportunity for questions that may better prepare the student for their WBL experience. Meetings during WBL experiences provide students with an opportunity to receive immediate feedback regarding their performance from their direct supervisor (Jackson, 2015). Meetings during WBL are also valuable for students to discuss what they have learnt from their experience and raise any concerns they may have. Education providers consider meetings important with all stakeholders to ensure that WBL experiences are focused on the learning outcomes required of the student and to monitor their progress towards meeting learning goals.

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Programme flexibility

Providing a flexible WBL structure is important as it considers the diverse nature of the human movement industry. Industry supervisors require flexibility as their organisations have particular schedules for programmes and events, where education providers need to structure WBL to suit those industry requirements but also remain within the constraints of the academic calendar. This is supported by a New Zealand study where the industry supervisors reported that flexible WBL enabled students to complete WBL when particular industry-based events were being conducted (Ferkins, 2002). Consequently, students’ WBL experience was enriched through working on programmes and events that were organised to meet crucial industry schedules within their placement organisation. A flexible WBL structure also allows students to complete WBL within sporting clubs that may not align with education provider teaching terms. Within Australia, this often includes summer-based sports such as cricket. Students appreciate the flexibility of the WBL structure so they can also complete other responsibilities, such as family and employment commitments. Patrick et al. (2008) described the impact competing demands may have on a students’ ability to fully partake in WBL. Balancing paid employment with education commitments and, more specifically for a human movement student, participating in their own sporting competitions, was seen as a disadvantage and raised questions around equity of WBL (Patrick et al., 2008). With the introduction of flexible WBL, many of these demands can be managed. Goal setting

Another important feature of WBL is the development of student goals where they can identify, track and monitor their learning outcomes while on placement. The importance of students developing goals within WBL is essential in progressing and achieving one’s personal objectives. Billet (2009) reported that clarifying learning and personal goals prior to WBL is helpful for HE students so that expectations are clear for all stakeholders. Furthermore, Jackson (2015) detailed that students, including human movement students completing an Australian HE programme, who developed goals for WBL enhanced their overall performance during the experience. Conversely, findings from Ferkins (2002) have demonstrated that unclear objectives from students were a limitation within their placement.

Student perspectives of work-based learning Students are key stakeholders that need to be considered when developing and implementing WBL within the Australian HE and VET sector.The following is an outline of the essential considerations.

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Occupational preparation by applying theory to practice

The main purpose of WIL is to improve the employability of students by providing practical industry experiences that relate to their studies (ACEN, n.d). As students learn theory in the classroom, they are able to take full advantage of that learning by applying the concepts and skills in an employment setting. Work-based learning provides students with an opportunity to acquire and develop discipline-specific practical skills in a real-world setting (Hall et al., 2017a). When reviewing classroom concepts that human movement students apply during a WBL experience, two key elements have been identified: first, the practical, discipline-specific skills and, second, the ‘soft’ employability skills. Human movement students consider acquiring new technical skills (Tinning, Jenkins, Collins, Rossi & Brancato, 2012) and enhancing already attained technical discipline-specific skills (Hall et al., 2017a), such as exercise programme prescription or training principles, as key elements of WBL. Research suggests that students develop employability skills during WBL. Employability skills, also known as ‘generic skills,’ ‘core skills,’ or ‘graduate attributes,’ are defined as a ‘set of non-technical skills, knowledge and understandings that underpin successful participation in work’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2013, p. 1). Communication (Hall et al., 2017a; Jackson, 2015; Tinning et al., 2012), connecting and working with others (Hall et al., 2017a; Jackson, 2015) and professionalism (Hall et al., 2017a) have all been reported by human movement students as being attained or improved during WBL. When considering the diverse nature of the human movement industry, employability skills are extremely important for students to develop as these are skills that will transfer to any future occupation, regardless of the specific setting. Human movement industry occupation choices

Within an Australian context, past research suggests that students, and more specifically HE students, do not actively reflect on their future careers until graduation (Perrone & Vickers, 2003). Considering this lack of career reflection, combined with the broad scope of the human movement industry, WBL experiences are an opportunity for human movement students to identify potential occupations (Dressler & Keeling, 2011; Hall et al., 2017b). Reddan and Rauchle’s (2012) research suggested that while human movement students completed a course that included theory and a WBL experience, they gained insight into professional work, improving their understanding of the industry and the pathways required to succeed. However, what remains unclear from this research is whether the students’ insight into the industry was directed by the contribution of WBL experience, the course content associated with classroom theory or a combination of both.

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Positive and negative work-based learning experiences impacting occupational choice

An element of WBL that cannot be ignored is the impact a positive or negative WBL experience may have on the choice of occupation for a student. Literature in other health-related disciplines, such as nursing and occupational therapy, have indicated that a positive WBL experience will influence a student to remain within the occupational discipline as that of their WBL placement (Boyd-Turner, Bell & Russell, 2016; Crowe & Mackenzie, 2002; Keller & Wilson, 2011). Conversely, research also suggests that a negative WBL experience can have the reverse effect and discourage a student from seeking employment within the occupational discipline (Boyd-Turner et al., 2016; Crowe & Mackenzie, 2002; Keller & Wilson, 2011). Within the human movement industry, there has been minimal research conducted in the area of WBL and the impact WBL experiences may have on human movement students (Tinning et al., 2012) career choice. However, in 2017 Hall et al. (2017b) found results similar to other health-related disciplines. This research found that a positive WBL experience, including completing interesting and enjoyable work, and a positive working environment encouraged human movement students to source future employment within the same or similar occupational discipline as that of the WBL placement. Human movement students identified that within WBL, negative experiences consisted of personal conflict (Hall et al., 2017a), a lack of interest in the sub-discipline area and a lack of full time employment (Hall et al., 2017b). Interestingly, a negative WBL placement did not necessarily dissuade the students from pursuing the same or similar occupational sub-discipline area for future employment (Hall et al., 2017b). The results reported in this human movement study may differ from previous work in allied health disciplines due to the diversity of the human movement industry, which students are exposed to throughout their programme. This diversity may enable additional occupational pathways within the human movement industry to still remain a viable and suitable option for students. The results of these human movement studies are two-fold: first, regardless of a positive or negative experience, human movement students were still able to develop key employability skills throughout WBL (Hall et al., 2017a) and therefore WBL remains a valuable inclusion within the education provider’s programme. Second, a negative WBL experience did not discourage human movement students from pursuing future employment within the sub-discipline (Hall et al., 2017b), and these students should not be alarmed if they do experience a negative WBL placement as the experience may be valuable for their future occupational preparation.

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Self-reflections

Notable theorists such as Schön (1991), Gibbs (1988) and Mezirow (1981) have explored reflective learning. Gibbs (1988) describes six stages of reflection including describing the experience, identifying feelings and evaluating the situation. While students are completing WBL, self-reflections are commonly used to enhance the learning associated with that experience (Helyer & Lee, 2014; Jackson, 2015; Martin, Rees, Edward & Paku, 2012; Young & Baker, 2004). The human movement industry includes the use of such reflections, although students do not always understand the importance of self-reflection as a learning tool (Coll et al., 2009). Using student self-reflections as a learning tool within WBL experiences provides students with the means to consider their experiences and further understand what they have learnt and what that means to them within a broader context. Due to the diverse nature of the human movement industry, reflections are an important tool within WBL that assist students to learn from their experiences and explore occupational choices. In addition, students have their own individual perspective on what their experiences mean to them and this will assist in guiding them to the area within human movement that is best suited to them.

Industry supervisors’ perspectives of work-based learning Within the Australian human movement industry, there is limited research related to the supervisor perspective, highlighting a need to know more about this valuable WBL stakeholder. Nonetheless, human movement industry supervisors are involved with WBL as they value the practical and technical skills that students bring to the organisation, which are beyond those provided by volunteers (Ferkins, 2002; Fleming & Hickey, 2013). Furthermore, these discipline-specific skills can assist the organisation with their workload (Ferkins, 2002; Fleming & Hickey, 2013), thus easing the pressure on paid employees and adding value to the organisation. Across human movement disciplines, supervisors value being involved in WBL due to the future employment prospects of students. Research has highlighted that students completing WBL experiences provides the human movement industry with an opportunity to employ graduates at the completion of their education programme (Coll et al., 2009; Ferkins, 2002; Fleming & Hickey, 2013). When considering the large enterprise that is the human movement industry in Australia, it would be expected that the industry would consider WBL experiences as an opportunity to review a student for possible employment within their organisation. This may be an economical and efficient method to source future employees, a task that would normally be a costly and time-consuming process.

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As mentioned previously, students and education providers believe that WBL is an opportunity for students to apply the theory they have learnt in the classroom to their practical WBL placements. Interestingly, one study (Fleming & Hickey, 2013) indicated that industry supervisors did not identify that the purpose of a practical workplace experience was for students to apply theory they had learnt from the classroom into a practical setting (Fleming & Hickey, 2013). In fact, supervisors believed that the purpose was for students to assist with the workload of the organisation and to provide valuable technical skills that volunteers did not possess (Fleming & Hickey, 2013). To support this claim, more needs to be known about supervisors and their perspective on students applying theory from their studies to their WBL experiences. A further benefit of participation in WBL for the industry supervisors was the fresh perspective (Fleming & Hickey, 2013; Ferkins, 2002) and enthusiasm (Ferkins, 2002) that students bring to the WBL organisation. This is not surprising, as in general the students are relatively new to the workplace environment of the human movement industry so their perspective is different. In addition, because they are new to working in the human movement environment they are also enthusiastic to showcase their learning and how their current theoretical knowledge can positively impact the placement environment. Supervisors are important stakeholders within WBL and their perspective needs to be considered by education providers and students in light of their capacity to influence the success of the students’ experience.

Conclusion This review of contemporary human movement literature highlights the unique experiences and perspectives of stakeholders involved in WBL. These stakeholders offer insight of perceived benefits of participation in such an experience and include collaboration, programme flexibility and goal setting for students. A collaborative approach from all stakeholders is at the forefront of quality WBL programmes. Providing a holistic approach through collaboration ensures all stakeholders are aware of their responsibilities within WBL and the level of commitment required to achieve positive outcomes for all involved. Programme flexibility allows students to complete WBL within the human movement industry, which requires particular schedules of programmes and events that occasionally do not align with education provider teaching terms. Another important feature of WBL is the goal setting of students where they can track and monitor their performance. Considering the diverse nature of the human movement industry, the development of students’ employability skills is essential, so students can transfer such skills to other occupations within the discipline. Furthermore, regardless of a student’s positive or negative WBL experience, human movement students were able to develop vital employability skills. Interestingly, human movement

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students who had a negative WBL experience were not discouraged from pursuing employment within that sub-discipline. While there was little research from the perspective of supervisors, there was a differing perspective of supervisors, as they did not identify that the purpose of a practical workplace experience was for students to apply theory they had learnt from their studies. This difference of opinion suggests that a disconnection exists between the education providers’ aim of WBL and the aim of the supervisors. At this stage more needs to be known about the education providers, students and supervisors’ perspectives regarding theory learnt from a students studies and the application of it within the human movement industry. With the diverse nature of the human movement industry, it is crucial that students complete more than one WBL experience so they can explore the various occupations and gain insight into the sub-discipline areas that are most suitable to their skills and interest. To facilitate this, conversations between students, supervisors, education providers and accreditation bodies are paramount to ensure an effective and successful WBL experience within the VET and HE sectors.

References Atkinson, G. (2016). Work-based Learning and Work-integrated Learning: Fostering Engagement with Employers. Accessed 27 October 2017, www.ncver.edu.au/__data/assets/ pdf_file/0017/60281/Work-based-learning.pdf Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). (2012). Volunteers in Sport. Accessed 27 October 2017, www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/[email protected]/Products/4440.0.55.001~2010~Chapter~Overview? OpenDocument Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). (2017). Population Clock. Accessed 3 November 2017, www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs%40.nsf/94713ad445ff1425ca25682000192af2/1647509ef7 e25faaca2568a900154b63?OpenDocument Australian Collaborative Education Network (ACEN). (n.d.). National Strategy on Work Integrated Learning in University Education. Accessed 20 October 2017, http://acen.edu.au/wpcontent/uploads/2015/11/National-WIL-Strategy-in-university-education-032015.pdf Australian Collaborative Education Network (ACEN). (2017). About. Accessed 18 ­October 2017, http://acen.edu.au/about/ Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF). (2011). Australian Qualification Framework. Accessed 13 September 2018, www.aqf.edu.au/sites/aqf/files/aqf-1st-edition-july -2011.pdf Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF). (2017a). AQF Governance. Accessed 25 ­October 2017, www.aqf.edu.au/aqf-governance Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF). (2017b). What Is the AQF. Accessed 20 ­October 2017, www.aqf.edu.au/what-is-the-aqf Australian Skills Quality Authority. (2017). How Does ASQA Regulate? Accessed 26 ­October 2017, www.asqa.gov.au/about/how-does-asqa-regulate Australian Sports Commission. (2016). AusPlay Participation Data for the Sport Sector. Accessed 1 November 2017, www.ausport.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/653875/34648_ AusPlay_summary_report_accessible_FINAL_updated_211216.pdf

Human movement programmes 107 Billett, S. (2009). Realising the educational worth of integrating work experiences in higher education. Studies in Higher Education, 34(7), 827–843. Bond University. (2018). Bachelor of Sport Management Program Structure and SequencePlan. Accessed 22 March 2018, https://bond.edu.au/files/2786/B%20Sport%20Mgmt%20 2018.pdf Boyd-Turner, D., Bell, E., & Russell, A. (2016). He influence student placement experiences can have on the employment choices of graduates: A paediatric nursing context. Nurse Education in Practice, 16, 263–268. Bradley, D., Noonan, P., Nugent, H., & Scales, B. (2008). Review of Australian Higher Education (Final Report). Accessed 14 March 2018, www.voced.edu.au/content/ ngv%3A32134 Canadian Association for Co-operative Education (CAFCE). (2017). About Us. Accessed 4 November 2017, www.cafce.ca/about-us.html Coll, R., Eames, C., Paku, L., Lay, M., Hodges, D., Bhat, R., . . .& Martin, A. (2009). An exploration of the pedagogies employed to integrate knowledge in work-integrated learning. Journal of Cooperative Education & Internships, 43(1), 14–35. Commonwealth of Australia. (2013). Core Skills for Work Developmental Framework. Accessed 14 September 2018, https://docs.education.gov.au/system/files/doc/other/1._csfw_ framework_0.pdf Commonwealth of Australia. (2015). SIS10 Sport, Fitness and Recreation Training Package. Accessed 4 October 2017, https://training.gov.au/TrainingComponentFiles/SIS10/ SIS10_R3.1.pdf Cooperative Education & Internship Association, Inc. (CEIA). (2015). About. Accessed 4 November 2017, www.ceiainc.org/about/ Crowe, M., & Mackenzie, L. (2002). The influence of fieldwork on the preferred future practice areas of final occupational therapy students. Australian Occupational Therapy Journal, 49, 25–36. Curtin University. (2017). Courses Handbook 2018. Accessed 5 November 2017, http://­ handbook.curtin.edu.au/units/31/317541.html Deakin University. (2017a). HSE312 – Exercise and Sports Science Practicum. Accessed 26 October 2017, www.deakin.edu.au/courses/unit?unit=HSE312 Deakin University. (2017b). MMS306 – Sport Management Practicum. Accessed 7 ­November 2017, www.deakin.edu.au/courses/unit?unit=MMS306 Statistics – 2015 Department of Education and Training. (2015). Selected Higher Education ­ Student Data. Accessed 3 November 2017, www.education.gov.au/selected-highereducation-statistics-2015-student-data Dressler, S., & Keeling, A.E. (2011). Benefits of cooperative and work-integrated education for students. In R.K. Coll and K.E. Zegwaard (Eds.) International Handbook for Cooperative and Work-integrated Education: International Perspectives of Theory, Research and Practice (2nd ed., pp. 261–275). Lowell, MA: World Association for Cooperative Education. Exercise and Sport Science Australia (ESSA). (2016). Careers in Exercise and Sports Science. Accessed 15 October 2017, www.essa.org.au/careers-in-exercise-and-sports-science/ Exercise and Sport Science Australia (ESSA). (2017). Course Accreditation. Accessed 3 November 2017, www.essa.org.au/education-providers/ Federation University Australia. (2017a). Bachelor of Exercise and Sport Science. Accessed 4 November 2017, https://study.federation.edu.au/#/course/DPX5 Federation University Australia. (2017b). Bachelor Sport Management. Accessed 6 November 2017, https://study.federation.edu.au/#/course/DPM5

108  Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall Ferkins, L. (2002). Sporting best practice: An industry view of work placements. Asia-Pacific Journal of Cooperative Education, 3(2), 29–34. Fleming, J., & Hickey, C. (2013). Exploring cooperative education partnerships: A case study in sport tertiary education. Journal of Cooperative Education, 14(3), 209–221. Gibbs, G. (1988). Learning by Doing: A Guide to Teaching Learning Methods. Oxford, UK: Oxford Further Education Unit. Hall, M., Pascoe, D., & Charity, M. (2017a). The impact of work-integrated learning experiences on attaining graduate attributes for exercise and sports science students. Asia-Pacific Journal of Cooperative Education, 18(2), 101–113. Hall, M., Pascoe, D., & Charity, M. (2017b, June). Career direction or re-direction – The impact of work integrated learning on exercise & sport science students. Paper presented at the 20th WACE World Conference 2017, Chang Mai, Thailand. Helyer, R., & Lee, D. (2014). The role of work experience in the future employability of higher education graduates. Higher Education Quarterly, 68(3), 348–372. Illeris, K. (2003). Learning, identity and self-orientation in youth. Nordic Journal of Youth Research, 11, 357–376. Jackson, D. (2015). Employability skill development in work- integrated learning: Barriers and best practice. Studies in Higher Education, 40(2), doi:10.1080/03075079.2013.842221 James Cook University. (2018). Bachelor of Sport and Exercise Science Subjects. Accessed 22 March 2018, www.jcu.edu.au/courses-and-study/courses/bachelor-of-sport-andexercise-science Keller, S., & Wilson, L. (2011). New graduate employment in New Zealand: The influence of fieldwork experiences. New Zealand Journal of Occupational Therapy, 58(2), 30–36. Kolb, D. (2015). Experiential Learning: Experience as the Source of Learning and Development (2nd edn.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education. LaTrobe University. (2015). Bachelor of Exercise Science University Handbook 2018. Accessed 4 November 2017, www.latrobe.edu.au/handbook/current/undergraduate/she/healthsciences/single-degrees/bexsc.htm.htm LaTrobe University. (2018). Bachelor of Business (Sport Development and Management). Accessed 13 September 2018, www.latrobe.edu.au/courses/bachelor-of-businesssport-development-and-management Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Martin, A., Rees, M., Edward, M., & Paku, L. (2012). An organization overview of pedagogical practice in work-integrated education. Asia-Pacific Journal of Cooperative Education, 12(1), 23–37. Mezirow, J. (1981). A critical theory of adult learning and education. Adult Education Quarterly, 32(1), 3–24. National Centre for Vocational Education Research. (2017). Total VET Students and Courses 2016: Infographics. Accessed 3 November 2017, www.ncver.edu.au/data/data/­ infographics/total-vet-students-and-courses-2016 infographic New Zealand Association for Cooperative Education Inc (NZACE). (2016). About. Accessed 6 November 2017, http://nzace.ac.nz/about-nzace/ Parker, T., Curtis, O., Gillam, I., Hamdorf, P., Spinks, W., Bishop, D., & Coombes, J. (2011). Perspectives from the past 20 years of ESSA. Activate, 10–19. Patrick, C.J., Peach, D., Pocknee, C., Webb, F., Fletcher, M., & Pretto, G. (2008). The WIL [Work Integrated Learning] Report: A National Scoping Study (Final Report). Brisbane: Australian Learning and Teaching Council, Brisbane.

Human movement programmes 109 Perrone, L., & Vickers, M. (2003). Life after graduation as a ‘very uncomfortable world’: An Australian case study. Education + Training, 45(2), 69–78. Reddan, G., & Rauchle, M. (2012). Student perceptions of the value of career development learning to a work-integrated learning course in exercise science. Australian Journal of Career Development, 21(1), 38–48. Schön, D.A. (1991). The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. Aldershot, England: Arena. Service Skills Australia. (2015). SIS Sport, Fitness and Recreation Training Package V1.0. Accessed 3 November 2017, https://vetnet.education.gov.au/Public%20Documents/SIS_Companion%20Volume%20Implementation%20Guide%20Release%20Version%201_0_Final.pdf Smith, C. (2012). Evaluating the quality of work-integrated learning curricula: A comprehensive framework. Higher Education Research & Developments, 31(2), 247–262. Smith, E. (2016). Links between concepts of skill, concepts of occupation and the training system: A case study of Australia. In S. Loo and J. Jameson (Eds.) Vocationalism in Further and Higher Education: Policy, Programmes and Pedagogy (pp. 65–77). New York, NY: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group. Smith, M., Brooks, S., Lichtenberg, A., McIlveen, P., Torjul, P., & Tyler, J. (2009). Career Development Learning: Maximising the Contribution of Work-integrated Learning to the Student Experience (Final Report). Wollongong: Australian Learning and Teaching Council. TEQSA. (2012). About TEQSA. Accessed 23 September 2015, www.teqsa.gov.au/about Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency (TEQSA). (2017). Guidance Note: Workintegrated Learning. Accessed 2 October 2017, www.teqsa.gov.au/sites/default/files/ GuidanceNote_WorkIntegratedLearning%201.0.pdf Tinning, R., Jenkins, D., Collins, J., Rossi, T., & Brancato, T. (2012). Major practicum as a learning site for exercise science professionals: A pilot study. European Physical Education Review, 18(2), 239–244. Victoria University. (2017). Exercise Science Career Development. Accessed 4 November 2017, www.vu.edu.au/units/AHE3120 World Council and Assembly on Cooperative Education (WACE). (n.d.). About WACE  & CWIE. Accessed 21 October 2017, www.waceinc.org/about.html Young, D.S., & Baker, R.E. (2004). Linking classroom theory to professional practice: The internship as a practical learning experience worthy of academic credit. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation & Dance, 75(1), 22–30.

Chapter 7

Educating work-ready youth workers Appraising a university program for Australian and international contexts Jennifer Brooker Introduction Working in both the vocational education (VE) and higher education (HE) youth work departments of RMIT University, one of Australia’s five dual tertiary sector learning institutions, between 2008 and 2015, led to questions concerning the occupational education HE Youth Work students and how many would graduate with the necessary skills to succeed in the field.That they were knowledgeable was not in doubt; the ability to apply that knowledge in practical youth work situations was the concern. An international historic and current comparison of youth worker undergraduate degrees in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the USA was undertaken to compare the requirements and expected outcomes of the associated youth work graduates. Substantial differences in knowledge acquisition and the practicum focus were the key findings. For example, Australian HE youth work students spend less than 10% of their timetabled study time pursuing the practical aspects of their three-year program. In contrast, students in Canada, New Zealand and the United Kingdom spend between 33 and 50% of their programs dedicated to working directly with youth people while on placement during their studies. In an effort to address this and other highlighted differences, a new undergraduate youth work degree for Australia, with an optional Honours year, was created to bring Australian HE youth work students in line with their overseas counterparts. Positively appraised by 12 international youth work reviewers, it was deemed to be a good balance of theory and practice that would ensure youth work graduates were work-ready upon graduation with the necessary essential knowledge and competencies required of new youth workers. The chapter begins with an overall view of the diversity of youth work across the world, including the age differences of clients, and the titles and associated roles of youth workers, highlighting some of the difficulties associated with creating a universal qualification for youth workers. A summary of the project leads into a description of the qualification model that was created in response to the data collected, including the literature review, case studies

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for each nation included in the historic and current comparison, and the demographic and social profile for Australian youth aged between 0 and 24 years of age at the beginning of the 21st century. The results of the appraisal of the model follow, and the next section includes a look at the core courses, placement and electives which make up the undergraduate degree. The implications and contributions made by the research complete the chapter.

Ensuring the right educational outcomes All youth work pre-service education and training programs provide a sound knowledge and understanding of the cultural, social, economic and political factors which impact upon the daily lives of the young people in a youth worker’s care and the diverse communities in which they reside. Yet what a youth worker is and does is not obvious and the professional and research literature fails to answer this question clearly (Ingram & Harris 2013, Wisman 2011). Some writers advocate youth work is about integrating young people into their community (Martin 2002); for others, it is about providing informal education (Banks 1999, Batsleer 2008). The diverse nature of the work is further complicated by the numerous job titles applied, including Youth Worker, Child and Youth Care Worker/ Practitioner, Youth Therapist, Youth Development Facilitator, Residential Care Worker and Youth Alcohol and Other Drugs Worker. The perennial ethical issues of confidentiality and balancing the autonomy, control and selfdevelopment of young people with the ideologies, needs and requirements of government funders, boards and other responsible agencies further complicate the role (Davies 2012, Ord, Moustakim & Wood 2012). Worldwide, those aged 0–24 years total a quarter of the world’s population (Goldin, Patel & Perry 2014:2, Das Gupta et al. 2014) and is anticipated to reach more than 3.5 billion by the end of the 21st century. That there is no global consistency as to what ‘youth’ is sees practice around the world focusing on different age groups across a moving scale of 0–39 years of age. The United Nations defines young people as those aged between 15 and 24 years (United Nations Youth 2014) while Australian government administrations work with the 10/12–25 age range. In Northern Ireland, youth workers engage with 4–25 year olds, which is further divided into five distinct age bands: 4–8 years, 9–13 years, 14–18 years, 19–21 years and 22–25 years. Although priority is given to groups and individuals aged between 9 and 18 years, work begins with the younger age group through programs linked to the Youth Work Curriculum (DENI 2013:14–15, 17–18). Youth work students require relevant training based on a foundation of specialised knowledge, skills, attributes and behaviours relevant to the youth of the early 21st century to ensure they are suitably work-ready and able to support their clients appropriately. This brings the praxis, theory and practice into the 21st century without disregarding what has been or is currently taught.

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Project details A PhD thesis undertaken part-time over five years, this research had as its overall aim to develop a new model of youth work education for the 21st century that could be applied and adapted to various cultural contexts. Undertaken through the mixed methodologies of action research because of its blending advantages, there were three phases of investigation. Ensuring that the newly developed program would be informed and situated within a global context, the first phase involved a historic and current comparison of HE youth work programs in Australia (4), Canada (4), New Zealand (1), the United Kingdom (4) and the USA (3). The common criteria were: • • •

A recognised program according to the relevant youth work association/s, where applicable Similar graduate outcomes upon completion Similar cultural conditions.

A literature review formed part of the comparative study and included university program guides, delivery schedules and student expectations.The associated educational programs investigated highlighted various similarities and differences in delivery duration, courses provided and practice frameworks utilised nationally. Case studies created for each of the nominated sites involved the exploration and evaluation of the associated literature and government policy documents which mapped the various ways youth work is defined in each country and how that may have changed over the past two centuries. In-depth interviews with youth work education and training providers (31), recent graduates (22) and youth work organisational representatives (12) from across the sites asked “Are graduates work ready upon graduation?” Three sets of semi-structured questions were designed to allow for further exploration of the answers provided if required. Three focus groups (England, 1; New Zealand, 2) were also conducted with recent graduates. In groups of four, the indepth discussions lasted between one and two hours and allowed participants to explore their initial employment experiences immediately after their studies. A survey of 69 American child and youth care workers provided information about their views regarding their identity within the field, qualifications, perceptions regarding youth work in the United States and how they saw themselves within the global youth work community. A demographic and social profile of Australia’s young people (0–24 years), was created by analysing the 2001, 2006 and 2011 Australian census data and a number of global youth surveys. The findings highlighted the complexity of the needs and aspirations of today’s young people and current issues for them: good education, better healthcare, an honest and responsive government, better job opportunities, and protection against crime and violence (Das Gupta et al. 2014:V).

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The second phase was the creation of the new model. Based upon the findings collated from the first phase, the Bachelor of Community Youth Work comprises of 20 core units, three elective classes and 780 hours of assessed vocational practice for the recommended initial undergraduate degree of three years. An additional Honours year was also included. The elements constructed included: • Course duration • Essential knowledge/competencies • Curriculum/course structure • Assessments • Sufficient time for an adequate practicum component • Delivery method/s. The last aspect of the research, and focus of this chapter, was the appraisal of the model.Twelve overseas academics and stakeholders (training providers, industry representatives and professional association leaders) responded to a set of questions which included a graded scale for each answer and space for additional comments if the assessor wished to add.

The qualification model A three-year undergraduate degree was designed to provide adequate opportunities for the knowledge acquisition, skill development, attitudinal dispositions and ethical behaviours necessary for graduates to become successful entry-level workers in the youth sector upon graduation in the 21st century. Multiple entry and exit points, provided at the beginning of each year level, allow for the recognition of prior learning (RPL) of candidates if applicable, and sufficient, reliable and valid evidence is supplied to demonstrate the student’s comprehension with the corresponding year of study. Built around a strengths-based framework of positive development, a strong emphasis on the demonstration of the practical application of the qualification’s theory throughout the learning period was deemed to be central. Combining both competency and capability-based study over the three years, the program is conducted through a combined face-to-face class- and work-based approach over an annual 32-week period, divided into two semesters (12 weeks class time, one week study time and a three-week exam period). Careful consideration of the scheduling of courses, as seen in Table 7.1, ensured that students’ learning was sequential in regards to their knowledge and skills development. Students graduate with knowledge in the areas of sociology, psychology, physical, emotional, cognitive and social development, cultural awareness, family composition, workplace skills (including successful communication between colleagues and clients), networking for client support, program creation, development and evaluation, research, focused case

AQF Level

4

5

Year

1

2

Semester 2

1.1 History of Community Youth Work: Its 2.2 Children and Young People in Their Cultural Policies and Practices Contexts 2.1 The Psychology of Child and 2.3 Children and Young People: Working with Youth Development the Family 4.1 Communication Skills for Multicultural 4.2 Group Facilitation Skills for Young People Contexts 3.1 Legal and Ethical Considerations in 1.2 Working with Children and Young People in Community Youth Work Diverse Settings 5.2 Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills: A 3-hour workshop timetable once each month (February– October) 5.1 Assessed Field Placement: 240 hours in two to three organisations for a minimum of 50 hours per placement with support classes every month: Professional development incl. CV writing, communication, site visits/mapping the sector, introduction of reflective practice etc. Working with Children and Young People 2.4 Working with Australia’s Indigenous Youth Affected by Alcohol, Other Drugs and Mental Health Issues 4.3 Case Management in Community 2.5 Children and Young People in a Digital Age Youth Settings 4.4 Design, Delivery and Evaluation of 3.2 Evolution of Social Policy in Community Community Youth Programs Youth Work Elective 1 Elective 2 5.2 Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills: A three-hour workshop timetable once each month (February–October) 5.1 Assessed Field Placement: 240 hours in two to three organisations for a minimum of 50 hours per placement with a support class every month

Semester 1

Table 7.1  The Bachelor of Community Youth Work curriculum delivery plan

AQF Level

7

8 Hons.

Year

3

4

1.4 International Dimensions of Community Youth Work 2.6 Children and Young People: Working in Child Protection

Semester 2

5.3 Project 3.3 Working within Organisational and 1.3 Program Delivery in Diverse Community Government Structures of Community Youth Work Settings (2) Youth Work 5.2 Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills: A three-hour workshop timetable once each month (February–October) 5.1 Assessed Field Placement: 300 hours in one organisation with a support class every month Elective 3 5.4 Dissertation 2.7 Working with Children and Young People 4.5 Leadership and Management within Community Youth Contexts from Conflict Regions: An Issues Approach 5.1 Community Youth Work Practicum: 300 hours in one organisation with a support class every month

1.3 Program Delivery in Diverse Community Youth Work Settings 4.6 Research and Project Management Skills (1)

Semester 1

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management and health awareness, as well as certificates in First Aid and Mental Health First Aid (Youth). Students also complete 780 hours of practicum (Y1 240,Y2 240 and Y3 300) within the youth sector. Given the diversity of ages, life experiences and educational backgrounds of incoming students, the model supports a range of learning styles. Learning activities include the presentation of materials and theoretical content to facilitate and stimulate active class discussion, case study analysis, group work, the examination of research findings pertaining to historical and current news items related to the youth sector, media clips, research texts and field placements. The program is delivered by lecturers and sessional staff with current competency and experience in the youth sector, as well as guest speakers from industry, and includes site visits to youth organisations. This provides students with access to those with specialised skills and knowledge from the field to ensure the material presented to students is relevant to their future work practices (Houston & Pelavanuic 1998). The assessment formats include individual and group presentations, case studies, written reports and essays, exams and tests, visual postcards and simulations reflecting the multiple possibilities that occur in the work space.

The appraisal The appraisal of the model was designed for the purpose of determining if the newly created model would achieve what it was created for – the creation of work-ready, entry-level youth work graduates. It would also evaluate whether the findings from the data collection and utilised in the program’s creation matched the comments gathered during the interviews from those working in the field of youth work. Twelve youth workers, all of whom worked in the youth sector, including education and training, appraised the program to ensure the program’s relevance. Divided into two parts, the first was an appraisal of the overall model, and the second was an appraisal of the sub-areas, including the model’s various themes, core courses, placement and electives. Salient details of the appraisal

Twelve people (Australia, 5; Canada, 2; England, 1; New Zealand, 1; Northern Ireland, 2; USA, 1) appraised the model. Chosen because of their active involvement in youth work education and service delivery in some way, eight of the appraisers worked directly within the sector as members of various youth agency boards, directors of youth organisations or directly with young people in the areas of the arts, at risk youth and residential care; the remaing four appraisers had active global youth work experience. Nine provided instruction to youth work students, with six holding positions in overseas youth work university programs.

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The appraisal process involved carefully reading through the program and then rating each question with the response based upon the following scale: 1 = Not relevant, 2 = Somewhat relevant, 3 = Relevant, 4 = Very relevant. Supplementary comments for each question were strongly encouraged as it was felt these would provide reasons for the initial responses provided. The appraisal was divided into two distinct parts, the first, an appraisal of the overall model, included the program’s title, the central aim, the overall objectives, course delivery overview, course progression and if any subjects had been overlooked.The second part, using the same rating score, saw appraisers respond to a set of six standard questions for each of the core subjects (24), the electives and the assessed vocational practice, over the four years of the undergraduate degree and the Honours year combined. 1 2 3 4

How well does this subject fit into the overall coherence of the course? Are the objectives realistic? Is the content comprehensive enough for this year level of study? Is the skills development for this subject sufficient for this year level of study? 5 Will the assessments for this subject test the students’ knowledge fully? 6 Will the reflective questions allow the students to demonstrate the relationship between theory and practice for this subject? Accompanied by a comments section for a more detailed response than was possible with the sliding scale provided, the comments allowed the appraisers the opportunity to explain their reasons and thoughts about each aspect under review and if they believed the model created was a successful answer to creating work-ready youth work graduates. Overall, the appraisers believed that the new program would ensure youth work graduates would be work-ready with the necessary essential knowledge and competencies upon graduation. With an average score of 3 or more on a scale of 1–4 it can be said that the model was well received. Your application of theory and the comprehensive nature of the course structure coupled with the assessments and field placement and also even with first aid and mental health first aid and the way it is broken down allows for the student to fully learn about how youth work is developed and managed. (A11) Acknowledging the strong vocational focus, 90% of the appraisers indicated that they thought the students would graduate with a good balance of theory and practice as demonstrated through the practical application of the theory learnt. This was highly regarded by the appraisers who commented that this is not often the case in a HE degree, particularly in Australia.

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My bias is to the practical particularly in a university context which struggles with that – so I think your bias is good. (A10) Reframing the undergraduate degree was important so as to ensure that youth work graduates are work-ready upon the completion of their studies, receiving the necessary occupational education which would bring them into line with their overseas counterparts. Three very important inclusions in the new model were added in response to the earlier data collection, literature review, case studies and interviews with the recent graduates and youth work organisations which made the newly created model obviously different to other undergraduate offerings in Australia. The first inclusion concerned “Extending the qualification’s current age range focus from the current 10/12–25 years to 4–25 years to cover all years of education”. Very little comment was made about this change and the conclusion was that because the appraisers from Canada, Northern Ireland and USA already tend to work with this age range they agreed with the addition. The second inclusion was the addition of the word community to the title which reflects the importance of involving all key people in a young person’s life. Again, little comment was made and it was assumed that those who appraised the model already work closely with the community in their daily practice and saw this as a given. At Ulster University, Northern Ireland, for example, the BA (Hons.) Community Youth Work is so called because the staff believes that “youth work should NOT [sic] be carried out in isolation of the community” (Henry 2015). In New Zealand, young people are considered important members of their communities and may require additional support to ensure their life success, which mirrors Canadian practice where the family and the wider community are acknowledged as integral components of a young person’s life. That none of the Australian responders commented on either of these inclusions was a surprise and worthy of note. It was concluded this was because all but one of the Australian responders was actively engaged in community youth work practice at the time and support the anecdotal evidence that youth workers encounter the younger age groups, their families and wider communities in their daily practice. The third addition was the inclusion of two reflective questions at the end of each course description which would be collectively graded at the end of each respective year. Feedback provided by representatives of youth work agencies during the interview process highlighted the need for students to be able to consciously tie the theory of the classroom to the practical aspect of the youth worker role link. The appraisers agreed they were an excellent addition to the program.

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Reflective questions, papers and journals are an excellent way to gauge if the student is reflexive and . . . demonstrate(s) whether or not they are critically thinking. (A1) These are questions which are asking students to “think big”. (A2) Appraisal of the overall model

With an overall score of 3.19, the first part of the appraisal looked at the model’s framework: the program title, the central aim, the program’s overall objectives, course delivery overview and progression and overlooked subjects. Describing it as “comprehensive” (A2) and an “excellent framework” (A11) that “looks good” (A12), it was seen to have “generally a good overall aim” (A4) that “has (a) clear focus on preparing (the) work force” (A8) and an “essential description acknowledging the diversity of the youth work sector” (A9). The positive response is reflected in the results (Table 7.2). For example, the qualification’s title, the Bachelor of Community Youth Work, received an average score of 3, with appraisers stating that it “Clearly identifies what students will be engaging in” (A2). The central aim – to provide Australian youth work graduates with a qualification that imparts the necessary knowledge, skills, attitudes and behaviours required for entry-level work within the community youth sector when working with clients aged between 4 and 25 years of age in a variety of community settings including government and youth sector agencies and a range of sites including accommodation, education, health, welfare and youth justice, involving many functions including advocacy, career guidance, employment, legal support, policy development or counsellor – was Table 7.2  Appraisal of the overall model Subject

% Non% Somewhat % Relevant 3 % Very Average responders/ relevant 2 relevant 4 score not relevant 0/1

Proposed name Central aim Overall objectives Course delivery Overview Course progression Any overlooked subjects?

0 0 0 0

33.33 0 0 0

33.33 33.33 33.33 25.00

33.33 66.66 66.66 75.00

3.00 3.16 3.16 3.75

0 25.00

0 0

25.00 41.66

75.00 33.33

3.75 2.33

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awarded an overall score of 3.16. The comment was made that the description could be more succinct; however, the need to advertise the full range of employment outcome possibilities to prospective incoming students was determined to outweigh the need for ‘efficiency’ in the wording category. Also scoring 3.16, the seven student objectives, again based on the data collected, especially the focus groups and interviews held with the youth work organisations and recent graduates, were positively appraised because “There seems to be a ‘development of the whole character’ of the youth worker bias in the introduction (which I think is a good bias!)” (A8). 1 Work in a largely independent capacity under the supervision of a manager in a range of contexts including residential care, education, youth justice, group settings, etc. 2 Develop, deliver, facilitate and evaluate programs and services for children and young people that address their behavioural, developmental, social and welfare needs 3 Encourage, support, involve and empower young people to significantly contribute to their own personal social development 4 Exhibit the interactive skills of advocacy, communication, group work, management, programming and research within the youth work environment 5 Confidently act and think independently while maintaining the personal and professional rights and responsibilities necessary in the workplace within legal and ethical considerations 6 Successfully implement the policies and guidelines of the employing organisation and relevant legal system in an ethical manner 7 Participate in on-going professional development and personal learning related into the field of youth work. The highest rankings of 3.75 were awarded to the delivery overview and course progression. Based on the comments provided it can be confidently said that the appraisers believed that the model was excellent, logical and cohesive. I found it easy to follow and the course overview and subject sequence made sense in the way it flowed so it went from familiar to unfamiliar. With good logic. (A11) It is an excellent outline and progression appears well considered. (A4) The lowest average score of 2.33 was awarded to whether any subjects had been overlooked. Three of the 12 responders did not provide a scaled score, stating “None that I can identify” (A2), “(I) can’t rate this” (A10) and “None that I can think of ”. (A11)

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Despite this, a number of suggestions were provided in regards to courses that could strengthen the program, including supervision training and entrepreneurship (A3), social pedagogy and trauma informed approaches (A6), mental health and Alcohol and Other Drugs (AOD) (A12). Appraisal of the courses

It was felt it was important to appraise each course which was written for the new undergraduate degree so as to evaluate whether the findings from the data collection matched the comments gathered during the interviews from those working in the field of youth work. Each course was structured in exactly the same way: title, objectives, subject content, expected skills development, assessments (two to three) and reflective questions (two). Each course was placed within one of five subject themes: 1 The Youth Work Sector: Its History and Diversity – The History of Community Youth Work: Its Policies and Practices; Working with Children and Young People in Diverse Settings; Program Delivery in Diverse Community Youth Work Settings; and International Dimensions of Community Youth Work 2 Children and Young People in Local and Global Contexts – The Psychology of Child and Youth Development; Children and Young People in Their Cultural Contexts; Children and Young People: Working with the Family; Working with Australia’s Indigenous Youth; Children and Young People in a Digital Age; Children and Young People: Working in Child Protection; and Working with Refugee Children and Young People from Conflict Regions: An Issues Approach 3 Policy and Procedures for Community Youth Care – Legal and Ethical Considerations in Community Youth Work, Evolution of Social Policy in Community Youth Work, and Working within Government and Other Organisational Structures of Community Youth Work 4 Community Youth Program Skills – Communication Skills for Multicultural Contexts; Group Facilitation Skills for Young People; Case Management in Community Youth Settings; Design, Delivery and Evaluation of Community Youth Programs; Leadership and Management within Community Youth Contexts; and Research and Project Management Skills 5 Vocational Preparation and Practice – Assessed Field Placement (Y1: 240 + Y2: 240 + Y3: 300 = 780 hours); Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills; Community Youth Work Project (Year 3); and 300 hours and a Dissertation in the Honours year. Children and Young People: Working with the Family, Children and Young People in a Digital Age, Children and Young People: Working in Child Protection and the Dissertation (Honours) were new subjects for an Australian HE youth work degree. These were included because they reflected the

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results of the demographic and social profile created and the associated literature review, both of which highlighted that the family and information technologies are areas that are important to young people. Child protection reflects feedback gathered from the recent graduates and youth organisations during the focus groups and interviews. During the comparison of current programs in Australia at the time (2012–2016) there was little evidence that these topics were being directly addressed. The courses about the family and indigenous young people gained the greatest support in regards to their inclusion. Looking at the full four years of the program – the undergraduate degree and the Honours year combined – the appraisers, using the same scale as in part one to ensure consistency, were asked to rate each of the program’s 24 core courses, 11 electives and 780 hours of field placement over three years, against the following six questions: How well does this subject fit into the overall coherence of the course? Are the objectives realistic? Is the content comprehensive enough for this year level of study? Is the skills development for this subject sufficient for this year level of study? 5 Will the assessments for this subject test the students’ knowledge fully? 6 Will the reflective questions allow the students to demonstrate the relationship between theory and practice for this subject? 1 2 3 4

Table 7.3  Overall score for sub-theme appraisal questions No.

Question

Overall score

1

How well does this subject fit into the overall coherence of the course? Are the objectives realistic?

3.26

3

Is the content comprehensive enough for this year level of study?

3.01

4

Is the skills development for this subject sufficient for this year level of study?

3.06

5

Will the assessments for this subject test the students’ knowledge fully?

3.02

6

Will the reflective questions allow the students to demonstrate the relationship between theory and practice for this subject?

2.91

2

3.03

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Appraisal of the 24 core courses

As can be seen in Table 7.3, the highest average score of 3.26 was obtained by Question 1 (How well does this subject fit into the overall coherence of the course?), suggesting that the appraisers agreed the subjects included in the program achieved this aim. For this question, seven courses scored 3.50: International Dimensions of Community Youth Work; Children and Young People: Working with the Family; Working with Australia’s Indigenous Youth; Children and Young People in a Digital Age; Evolution of Social Policy in Community Youth Work; Children and Young People: Working in Child Protection and The History of Community Youth Work: Its Policies and Practices. Three scored 3.58: Working with Children and Young People in Diverse Settings, The Psychology of Child and Youth Development, and Children and Young People in Their Cultural Contexts. In contrast,Working with Children andYoung People from Conflict Regions: An Issues Approach received an average score of 2.25, which was attributed to three appraisers not being able to find the unit to comment on. Some appraisers mentioned in their return emails that there appeared to be a renumbering of some units and missing reflection questions. As this was not a uniform occurrence it can only be put down to being an electronic ‘glitch’. Of those who did respond the comments were very positive. For example, A9 recognised the importance of the subject stating that “This group will be a source of work for many students for many years” which correlates with the findings of the demographic and social profile and the reason for the topic’s inclusion in the model. The following four questions received similar overall scores, ranging from 3.01 to 3.06, but a greater range of scores was evident in the responses. For example, for Question 2 (Are the objectives realistic?) Working with Australia’s Indigenous Youth received the highest ranking (3.66), with the majority of appraisers seeing this subject as a “great addition and [a] really essential component” (A11) that was “well designed and (a) much needed course!” (A7). In contrast, Research and Project Management Skills and Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills were deemed to not have realistic objectives by some appraisers. The reviewers all agreed that each subject had been correctly situated within the delivery schedule, giving 15 of the 24 courses an average score of 3 or more; seven courses received an average score of 3.25. The general consensus was that the skills development was also pitched correctly, with 18 of the 24 courses rating 3 or more, which was the highest ranking for this evaluation. Of the six that received a score of less than 3, Case Management in Community Youth Settings received the lowest average score (2.25). A non-responder rate of 33.33% was recorded for this subject and Research and Project Management Skills (2.83),

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Leadership and Management within the Community Youth Contexts (2.91), and Communication Skills for Multicultural Contexts (2.91). The only comment provided was for the latter subject where A9 noted that the “skills needed to be incorporated more if they are to be successfully utilised by students as graduates in the work place”. Overall, the sentiment was that the various assessments provided in the model were “a good mixture of theory and practice, some students will struggle, most will develop the right skills to enable them to commence their practice (A9)”. Receiving a final average score of 3.02, the highest score of 3.41 went to Working with Young People in Diverse Settings and Children and Young People in the Digital Age. In contrast, Case Management in Community Youth Work Settings and Assessed Field Placement both received the lowest score of 2.41. Comments were not provided to explain why the appraisers made their various choices. Receiving an overall average score of 2.91, this was largely due to question six missing from Theme Five – Vocational Preparation and Practice. Consequently, 33% of appraisers did not respond to Youth Work Principles, Practices and Intrapersonal Skills and Community Youth Work Project (Year 3) and 50% to Assessed Field Placement (1.91) and Dissertation (Honours) (1.16). This was attributed to the earlier mentioned electronic glitch. The highest scoring courses were Working with Children and Young People in Diverse Settings (3.41), Program Delivery in Diverse Community Youth Work Settings and Children and Young People in a Digital Age. One unexpected benefit of the process was that the appraisers often made positive suggestions which would strengthen the model upon revision. For example, for Children and Young People in the Cultural Contexts the “addition of an objective focused on awareness of personal bias and culture” (A8) would strengthen the students’ learning. Also, three of the objectives could be grouped together into one. Appraisal of the Assessed Field Placement

One of the significant differences of this new model to those currently offered in Australia is its strong vocational focus within a HE academic setting. It was felt this was a very important inclusion, especially as Australian HE youth work students spend less than 10% of their timetabled study time pursuing the practical aspects of their three-year program. In contrast, students in Canada, New Zealand and the United Kingdom spend between 33 and 50% of their programs dedicated to working directly with youth people. Purposefully, a dedicated number of hours for assessed field placement (AFP) was spread over the three years of the undergraduate degree:Y1, 240 hours;Y2, 240 hours; and Y3, 300 hours, for a total of 780 hours. The importance of including Work Integrated Learning (WIL) into the HE curriculum in the 21st century was supported by the evidence gained from the

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interviews of recent graduates and the youth agency representatives. That is, that the theory learnt in the classroom must be competently demonstrated in the workplace, thus proving that graduates are work-ready upon the completion of their studies. An acknowledgement by Australian HE institutions that they are unable to provide all of the necessary experiences that represent modern learning in the 21st century has resulted in the introduction of WIL. Effectively, HE has incorporated what has been a central premise of vocational education and practice: the utilisation of the workplace as a major centre of learning (Costley 2007, Daniels & Brooker 2014). Industry has willingly entered this educational partnership because of the positive benefits identified for all parties, especially students, who practically test their classroom theories in real environments with real clients under supervision (Trede & McEwen 2015). Bringing those experiences back to the university allows the students to question and reflect upon the practices they observed and engaged in as they search and create new knowledge and understanding (Chappell 2004, Trede and McEwen 2015, Universities Australia 2015). All of the appraisers gave positive feedback and supported the model’s AFP concept, agreeing that the number of nominated hours was sufficient and would “allow for students to really discover the application of practice and theory and work experience to build up confidence which is what they need” (A11). The appraisers liked the “progression in taking the greater responsibility in the placement, displaying greater levels of initiative, etc to demonstrate competence and knowledge” (A12) and believed that this area of study was very well covered and is in sense the most important. It also allows the student to do this in ‘block’ and also get full supervision from both the university and also the supervisor from the work place. I like the way it is integrated with theory and also the visual postcards and journals which allow for reflective practice and is beneficial for students learning and demonstration of knowledge in problem solving. (A11) Concerning the number of hours dedicated to field placement A11 summed up the comments best. The hours are perfect and allows for students to really discover the application of practice and theory and work experience to build up [their] confidence which is what they need. This is one area that needs to be addressed in the youth work area – as it’s such a huge mistake to cut hours in work experience as in training courses who cut down to six-month courses to get money. Students really miss out and this is observed over and over in the industry. (A11)

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The associated assessments were received positively, with one appraiser stating that I think there should be a requirement in every placement assessment to connect their reflection with a theory or framework learnt in class. (A8) The accompanying subject Youth Work Principles, Practices and Interpersonal Skills was designed to be delivered alongside the field placement as monthly three-hour seminars over the three years of the undergraduate degree with the intention of supporting the students in the AFP. The development of reflective practice is linked to self-care and is a fundamental component of modern service delivery. This subject relates to everything else in the curriculum. (A9) Appraisal of the electives

Timetabled to be offered twice in the undergraduate degree and once in the Honours year, 11 elective options, which would complement the 24 core courses and potential work possibilities within youth work after graduation, were proposed for the new model:   1 Accommodation Options for Children and Young People   2 Advanced Case Management in Community Youth Work  3 The Artistic Connection – Utilising the Arts with Children and Young People   4 Career Counselling in Youth Work Contexts   5 The Physical and Sexual Health Status of Australia’s Children and Young People  6 Working with Children and Young People Affected by Alcohol and Other Drugs  7 Working with Children and Young People Affected by Mental Health Issues   8 Working with Children and Young People Affected by Disability   9 Working with Children and Young People in Educational Settings 10 Working within the Australian Juvenile Justice System 11 Working Outdoors – Utilising Sport, Camping and Recreational Programs for Children and Young People Deemed to be relevant and varied enough, the appraisers were asked to comment on whether any of the electives ought to be core subjects the following comment was fairly typical.

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Tough call. I think the degree itself is a good grounding and you’ve had to make judgements about what is core to youth work, and then what is needed by the sector and then some nice add-ons. I know some youth workers would insist on mental health being core, but then you could also make an argument that case management be an elective. You’re balancing a whole bunch of competing concerns and I think you’ve made a pretty good judgement. (A8) Mental Health and Alcohol and Other Drugs (AOD) were the clear exceptions, with half of the appraisers commenting on the need for these to be core subjects. The interviews conducted with the recent graduates agreed wholeheartedly. I left the degree not feeling equipped for the industry. We didn’t touch on mental health or drug and alcohol basically in all of the degree. (RG18) Advanced Case Management (A12) was suggested as an addition to the electives schedule. Added to the electives list in a revision of the program, it would allow those who were interested in this area of work with children and young people the possibility of further study in this area. It would be offered after the initial case management course which is delivered in the first semester of the same year. Overall, the appraisers felt the electives offered in the newly created model would provide students with an opportunity to explore subjects that would accommodate areas of personal interest and possible professional expertise in the future.

Contributions The contributions made by the research begins with the identification of the necessity of providing youth work graduates of the 21st century with a qualification that imparts the necessary and relevant knowledge, skills, attitudes, behaviours and ethical behaviours required for entry-level work within the community youth sector in a variety of community settings today. A number of key findings were established during the study. The first was the need to increase the age range of clients from 10/12–25 years to 4–25 years of age for the Australian situation, reflected the need to extend youth work to the younger ages which is reflected in the current models of practice in Canada, Northern Ireland and the USA where younger children are included as a matter of course. The next key finding was the mapping of the similarities and differences identified across the areas of assessments, curriculum content and rationale, delivery method, the required skills/competencies base for learning and staffing

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across the international HE youth work programs in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the USA produced an interesting picture of what has and is currently occurring in the occupational education of this sector. Never previously investigated to such an extent, the interview results and the demographic and social profile of Australia’s young people so far this century, the relevant issues for contemporary and future young people and the reciprocal skills youth workers identified the need to update subject offerings. Subjects included those directly related to working with the family and the importance of information technologies. The last key finding of the research was the identification of the substantial differences in the practicum focus across the sites. As anticipated, the Australian HE youth work students were not acquiring the same skills in the area of timetabled practical experience out in the youth sector as those of their overseas counterparts. Increasing the number of hours dedicated to the practicum aspect of the program strengthens the student’s ability to demonstrate their practical application of the qualification’s theory throughout the learning period. Bringing the praxis, theory and practice into the 21st century without disregarding what has been or is currently taught, ensures youth work graduates are suitably work-ready and able to support their clients appropriately because they have gained sufficient time to practice the theory learnt in an appropriate work environment. Deemed to be central to the new model this reflected what is offered in youth work undergraduate degrees overseas and brings Australian youth work move into programs in-line with their overseas counterparts. Ensuring that students graduate with the necessary knowledge and workplace skills which have been trialled and tested in a safe work environment with academic support creates work-ready graduates.

Implications Based on the findings of the research presented here, the implications for youth worker education programs are that a broader education platform is necessary and possible for youth work students of the 21st century. Matching the current and future issues and needs of young people to the curriculum ensures that youth work students engage in the necessary knowledge and skills development required to be ‘work-ready’ upon graduation today. To achieve this current programs must be updated to include the issues identified, and as informed by the focus groups and interviews of the recent graduates and youth work agencies interviewed for this research, the demographic and social profile undertaken of Australia’s youth (0–24 years) for the beginning of the 21st century and the international case studies. By updating the current youth work education offerings, each of the stakeholders involved – students, teachers, teaching institutions and policymakers,

Educating work-ready youth workers 129

and the youth work sector – can only benefit. To achieve this, a priority must be given to the timetabling of more hours dedicated to the practicum aspect of each student’s studies. The continuous eroding of hours and staff, often justified economically, has led to the current offering of less than 10% of a student’s study being dedicated to placement in Australian youth work programs, which is inadequate and not in line with current overseas practice where the norm is between 33 and 50% for the same element of study. Employers want graduates, and students, who can apply the theory to the practice immediately. The provision of sufficient time to do that within a student’s academic studies is vital and requires a commitment from policymakers to see the value for industry, the educational institution and the students. It will also provide closer links between the universities and the youth sector, which are welcomed by the agencies interviewed for this research, more closely matching the programs to what graduates require once they have completed their studies with the requirements and needs of the sector.

References Banks, S. (Ed.) (1999) Ethical Issues in Youth Work. London: Routledge. Batsleer, J. (2008) Informal Learning in Youth Work. London: Sage. Chappell, C. (2004) Contemporary vocational learning – changing pedagogy. AVETRA, [Nowra], paper presented at the 7th Australian Vocational Education and Training Research Association Conference, Retrieved from www.avetra.org.au/Conference_Archives/2004/­ documents/PA013Chappell.pdf Costley, C. (2007) Work-based Learning: Assessment and Evaluation in Higher Education. Assessment & Evaluation in Higher Education, 32(1), 1–9, DOI:10.1080/02602930600848184 Daniels, J., & Brooker, J. (2014) Student Identity Development in Higher Education: Implications for Graduate Attributes and Work-Readiness. Educational Research, 56(1), 65–76. Das Gupta, M., Engleman, R., Levy, J., Luchsinger, G., Merrick, T., & Rosen, J. (2014) The Power of 1.8 Billion Adolescents, Youth and the Transformation of the Future. New York, NY: UNFPA. Davies, B. (2012) From Advice to Management: The Arrival of Youth Workers’ Accountability. In Ord, J. (ed.) Critical Issues in Youth Work Management (pp. 7–18). London: Routledge. Department of Education Northern Ireland (2013) Priorities for Youth – Improving Young People’s Lives Though Youth Work. Belfast: Department of Education Northern Ireland. Goldin, N., Patel, P., & Perry, K. (2014) The Global Youth Wellbeing Index. Washington, DC: Centre for Strategic and International Studies and International Youth Foundation. Henry, P. (2015) Personal Communication. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis. Belfast: Ulster University. Houston, W., & Pelavaniuc, W. (1998) Studying to Be a Youth Worker. Youth Studies Australia, 17(2), 29–33. Ingram, G., & Harris, W. (2013) Defining Good Youth Work. In Curran, S., Harrison, R., & Mackinnon, D. (eds.) Working with Young People (pp. 11–15). London: Sage. Martin, L. (2002) The Invisible Table: Perspectives on Youth and Youthwork (sic) in New Zealand. Palmerston North: Dunmore Press Limited. Ord, J., Moustakim, M., & Wood, E. (2012) Managing Centre-based Youth Work. In Ord, J. (ed.) Critical Issues in Youth Work Management. New York, NY: Routledge.

130  Jennifer Brooker Trede, F., & McEwen, C. (2015) Early Workplace Learning Experiences: What Are the Pedagogical Possibilities Beyond Retention and Employability? Higher Education, 69, 1932. United Nations (2014) My World 2015. Accessed 6 June 2015, http://data.myworld2015. org/ Universities Australia (2015) National Strategy on Work Integrated Learning in University Education. New South Wales, Australia: Universities of Australia. Wisman, M. (2011) Youth Work Practice: A Status Report on Professionalization and Expert Opinion About the Future of the Field. New England, USA: ProYouthWork.

Chapter 8

Learning to become an entrepreneur in unfavourable conditions The case of new entrants in the context of the Greek debt-crisis Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans Introduction As entrepreneurship is becoming progressively a part of everyone’s career (in 2013 almost 10% of European adults were involved in the process of starting or already running a new business) (Amores & Bosma, 2014), better understanding of which factors affect learning in entrepreneurial workplaces is necessary. In this contribution we focus on entrepreneurship as an occupational practice, referring to – as is common in other studies – someone who is actively engaged in the process of setting up a (small) business that s/he will own. Learning in this process (i.e. entrepreneurial learning) does not exclusively entail the development of business competence, but also involves the emergence of entrepreneurial identity and learning to acquire resources and legitimacy within local communities and other networks (Rae, 2006; Seuneke, Lans, & Wiskerke, 2013). Entrepreneurs learn by doing, experience and trial-and error in an unstructured and often unintentional learning process that is concurrent of their efforts to set-up the business (Cope, 2005). In doing so they notoriously rely little on formalised learning activities: the broader work environment is often the central learning space where most of the learning occurs (Lans, Biemans, Verstegen, & Mulder, 2008). An exemplary context in which there is very little, to no formal educational support is the current Greek context. Greece is now in the ninth year of recession and currently under a severe austerity program of neoliberal policy reforms which has resulted in unemployment, poverty, brain drain migration, homelessness, crime and even suicides. Moreover, according to the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM), the country scores very low on entrepreneurship indicators regarding government support, government policies government entrepreneurial programs, finance and entry regulations and formal entrepreneurship education at school (Amores & Bosma, 2014). In this non-conducive environment, there are entrepreneurs who – seeking a refugee from the debt-crisis or/and recognising a window for opportunity in agriculture – establish their own farms without having relevant prior professional experience (Gkartzios, 2013; Pindado, Sánchez, Verstegen, & Lans, 2018). This is a group of entrepreneurs totally different from regular farmers as they originate

132  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans

mostly from the large urban centres, and they are younger in age and have a better educational background than the farming population. To contribute to the ‘what’ and ‘how’ of entrepreneurial learning for this challenging occupational practice, the following research question was formulated: What characterises the entrepreneurial learning process of Greek crisis-led new entrants in farming? To answer this research question, we conducted semi-structured interviews with 18 entrepreneurs who started their business less than 48 months ago. We were interested in what helped them and where, looking back, assistance in terms of education and training would have been necessary. As such this case provides a detailed picture of how a distinct group of learners perceive their journey towards a new occupation: entrepreneurship.The results support earlier work on entrepreneurial learning, but also reveal new stepping stones for workrelated education and training to support this significant group of learners as new entrants in agriculture are considered an important source of innovation, vitality and competiveness of rural regions in Europe. This chapter is structured as following: we start with a brief description of the context and focus group of this study, namely the crisis-led Greek agrientrepreneurs. The next section provides the theoretical framework employed for this study, followed by the methods for data collection and analysis. The results obtained are subsequently discussed. The final section draws conclusions and gives recommendations for research and practice.

Theoretical framework Background: the Greek agri-food context

Within the bleak context of the Greek recession, the agricultural sector was (and still is) showing a remarkable resistance and resilience (Kasimis & Zografakis, 2014). During the economic crisis, the Gross Value Added in the agricultural sector increased by almost 3%, while in the other sectors it reduced by 6.5%. Also, from 2008 to 2015 only 22.200 jobs were lost in agriculture, compared to 966.000 lost in the secondary and tertiary sector (Kasimis & Zografakis, 2013). As such, farming is considered as an antidote to the crisis and as a ‘rising star’ for the development of the Greek economy (Gkartzios, 2013; Kasimis & Zografakis, 2014): the ‘back to the land movement’ is heavily promoted by Greek and international media. Nonetheless, this does not mean that Greek agriculture is suddenly a Silicon Valley for agri-food start-ups. Agriculture in Greece has been under the influence of the doctrines of productivist agricultural modernisation (Kasimis & Zografakis, 2012). This means that it was dictated by guidelines of specialisation and intensification of the agricultural processes, where all the other

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entrepreneurial alternatives were considered signs of backwardness (Damianakos, 1997). Also, the protectionist logic behind the subsidies of the Common Agricultural Policy stimulated farmers to operate purely as producers in a highly regulated and protected economic system (Seuneke et al., 2013); entrepreneurial behaviour was not afforded. This picture of the agricultural sector as not very entrepreneurial is further reinforced when looking at the general quality of the entrepreneurship ecosystem in Greece. The Global Entrepreneurship Monitor paints a picture of a country that scores low on indicators regarding government support, policies and entrepreneurial programs, perceived cultural and social norms related to entrepreneurship, finance and entry regulations, and entrepreneurial education at school. Furthermore, the Greek entrepreneurial ecosystem is framed by specific sociocultural parameters of Greek people such as an intense spirit of self-centrism, very low social capital, strong familism, strong uncertainty avoidance and risk aversion. As stated in the introduction it is within this context that people start their own farm venture, so-called new entrant farmers (Gkartzios, 2013; Kasimis & Zografakis, 2012). There is no fixed definition of new entrant farmers, most researchers take a fit-for-purpose definition and define them as new-comers to the agricultural sector, who due to the debt-crisis were ‘pushed’ or/and ‘pulled’ into farming (EIP-AGRI, 2016). Considering the entrepreneurial climate in agriculture described earlier, becoming entrepreneurial in Greek agriculture seems to be at first sight more a matter of ‘push’ than ‘pull’. Agriculture is often a last resort, when all other options have failed. Entrepreneurship scholars already described this ‘push’ phenomenon more than a decade ago when they observed in the GEM that in countries where economic development was relatively low (e.g. developing countries) there is a higher prevalence of start-ups which start because it is the best option available. They coined the term ‘necessity entrepreneurship’ to describe this phenomenon which, in turn, they contrasted with opportunity-driven entrepreneurship (starting from the perspective of taking advantage of a market opportunity) (Reynolds et al., 2002). Nonetheless, more in-depth research suggests that this dichotomy might be too simplistic and not fully represent the diversity of motives reported by those who start-up new businesses in emerging economies (Rosa et al., 2008). What is clear in the Greek context is that the group of new-comers is quite different from regular, existing, farmers in terms of age, origin and educational level. Their average age is 41.7, compared to 47.1 years of the existing farmers. Moreover, they tend to be highly educated (about one third of them possess a university degree) (Kasimis & Zografakis, 2014). New entrants to rural areas originate mostly from the large urban centres. One out of two comes from areas worst hit by unemployment, like the region of Athens. One year before starting the farm venture, nearly one third held no jobs. Two thirds were employed and moved into the farming from other sectors of employment (Ministry of Rural Development and Food, 2012).

134  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans

Entrepreneurial learning

It is claimed that new entrant farmers are an important source of innovation and entrepreneurship for agriculture (EIP-AGRI, 2016). So new-comers are often referred to as entrepreneurs bringing new skills, resources and opportunities to the sector (Sutherland et al., 2015). But what are entrepreneurs exactly? In daily language, terms like ‘business owners’, ‘small-business manager’ or in this particular context ‘new entrants’, ‘new-comers’ and ‘farmers’ are often used interchangeably. From the perspective of entrepreneurship as an occupational practice, it is, however, important to further define the specifics and boundaries of entrepreneurship. There is no fixed definition of entrepreneurship; a wide array of definitions can be found. Despite the abundance of definitions regarding entrepreneurship, there is a clear trend to give an order to this semantic chaos, which recognises that a core and distinctive element of entrepreneurship is the identification, evaluation and pursuit of entrepreneurial opportunities (Shane & Venkataraman, 2000). In their influential article Shane and Venkataraman (2000, p. 220) state that: ‘to have entrepreneurship, you must first have entrepreneurial opportunities’. As Vogel (2017) argues convincingly, opportunities are not the same as business ideas: the latter may lead to the former, but not necessarily. In this very early stage, it is uncertain whether or not the idea could be a real opportunity (Wood & McKinley, 2010). In order to reduce uncertainty about the idea, the individual shares the idea with friends and family – with trusted others. Next, if the idea survives, the individual discusses it further with significant stakeholders, such as potential investors and customers (Wood & McKinley, 2010). This opportunity-oriented approach to entrepreneurship is further elaborated by entrepreneurship education and entrepreneurial learning scholars as an iterative learning process of searching, shaping and evaluating initial ideas in dialogue with the social environment in which the idea is further refined, improved, changed, acted upon and sometimes abandoned. (Baggen et al., 2016; Corbett, 2007; Rae, 2006; Wood & McKinley, 2010). Navigating in this unfolding dynamic process of opportunity identification and pursuit requires continual effort and adjustment from actors, which is further conceptualised in the work on entrepreneurial agency and entrepreneurial learning. More specifically the dynamic character of recognising and acting on opportunities as a multi-actor process is reflected on the call to move the focus of the academic debate about entrepreneurial agency from an individualist, context-free standpoint to a relational contextual one (Dimov, 2007). Research and theories about entrepreneurial agency treat the latter as socially situated subjectivity, giving emphasis to the interplay between the individual agent and various contextual structures. Through this context-dependent lens of entrepreneurial agency, the organisational, institutional, social, cultural, economic and geographical elements structuring the

Learning to become an entrepreneur 135

overall context are perceived to be instrumental in formulating entrepreneurial propensity and behaviour. The contextualisation of entrepreneurial agency emerges as a key consideration in the entrepreneurial process, where the opportunity creating enactment involves all the potential futures towards which an entrepreneurial agent can act in reciprocal interaction with context. In other words, entrepreneurial agency represents the multifaceted mechanism by which potentialities are realised, experiences are transformed, new meanings are realised, and cognitive rules and patterns of behaviour are formulated, which in turn underpin a dynamic, interactive process of collective entrepreneurial learning. Rae (2006) provides a helpful conceptual model consisting of three major themes which capture these dynamics. The first theme – personal and social emergence of entrepreneurial identity – emphasises the idea that the development of an entrepreneurial identity is a fundamental prerequisite for becoming an entrepreneur. As Rae (2006, p. 47) mentions in his paper: “simply acquiring entrepreneurial skills and knowledge is not sufficient; the person who begins to act as an entrepreneur is assuming the identity of an entrepreneur”. Entrepreneurial identity defines a personal logic and selfunderstanding, encompassing both reason and emotion, which enable the individual to develop the ‘know why’ of the decision to get involved into entrepreneurial thought and action (Middleton & Donnellon, 2014). Entrepreneurial identity is moulded not only by re-negotiating an atomised selfconceptualisation, but it is also enacted through entrepreneurial practices situated within social or industry contexts. (Higgins & Elliott, 2011). The second theme of Rae’s framework – which he calls ‘contextual learning’ – gives prominence to the social and relational character of entrepreneurial learning (Seuneke et al., 2013). Contextual learning includes learning through immersion within communities and other networks through which individual experiences and perceptions are transformed into social and a shared meaning is constructed (Rae, 2006). Through participation, situated experience and social relationships, individuals learn intuitively and develop the ability to identify entrepreneurial opportunities and to formulate practices of entrepreneurial action (Bergh et al., 2011). The third theme – called ‘negotiated enterprise’ – approaches entrepreneurial learning as a dynamic process of social learning and ongoing negotiation in multi-actor settings where actors learn by interaction; negotiate new norms and values; and shape alternative ways of seeing, knowing and understanding (Gibb, 2002; Rae, 2006; Wals et al., 2009). To sum up, answering the research question of exploring entrepreneurial learning in the Greek debt-crisis context requires a dual focus on the new entrant actively electing to engage in an opportunity development process shaping his/her entrepreneurial identity and the broad, social work environment providing possibilities of (or lack thereof) entrepreneurial learning.

136  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans

Methods Studied cases

To gather data for this research, 18 entrepreneurs were purposefully sampled from different Greek geographical areas. Entrepreneurs with different production orientations were chosen as representing different entrepreneurial mind-sets, including producing specialties (e.g. goji berries), portfolio entrepreneurship (e.g. combining chestnut production, cooking classes and guide tours) as well as more high-tech entrepreneurship (e.g. greenhouse production). Furthermore, as the GEM (Amores & Bosma, 2014) defines entrepreneurs as adults that are actively preparing to set-up a new independent business or owning a venture created in the past 42 months, only entrepreneurs with less than 42 months of economic activity, as agricultural firms, were selected. Table 8.1 provides a detailed overview of the studied cases.

Table 8.1  Characteristics of the studied cases Case Core new business activities 1 2 3 4

Herbs On-farm shop Aloe production Sprout farm Cooking classes Vineyard

Farm size Age Education level Pre-entry Years of (ha) professional status working experience 1.5

29 MSc

Actress

4

3.2

Unemployed

21

0.6

46 Secondary education 37 BSc

Public servant

12

6.9

41 MSc

Journalist

14

5

Olive grove 7.2 Farm education

34 Secondary education

Construction worker

13

6

Legume production Chestnut grove Cooking classes Guided tours Herbs Honey production Child care Goat farm On-farm shop

Plumber

31

4.7

53 Secondary education 26 BSc

Taxi driver

4

39 BSc

Lawyer

11

5

44 PhD

Veterinarian

18

12.3

31 BSc

Unemployed

4

7

8

9 10

Sesame production

8.2

2

Learning to become an entrepreneur 137 Case Core new business activities 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Sun-dried tomatoes Buffalo farm Olive grove Bed and breakfast Vegetable greenhouse Olive grove Honey production Agrotourism Tree nursery Goji berries production

Farm size Age Education level Pre-entry Years of (ha) professional status working experience 4.2

40 MSc

Lawyer

13

13

Unemployed

21

5.6

32 Secondary education 48 MSc

English teacher

0.4

39 PhD

Bank clerk

11

8

Supermarket cashier Unemployed

28

1.8

51 Secondary education 28 BSc

1.6

34 MSc

9.1

42 MSc

Self-employed psychologist Unemployed

3

3 7 14

Instruments and procedures for data collection

The main source of data was in-depth semi-structured interviews with the owner-manager of the new farm-business. An approach that is rooted in the Critical Incident Technique (CIT) (Flanagan, 1954) was used to investigate significant occurrences identified by the respondents, the way these occurrences were handled and the outcomes in terms of perceived effects. This approach was chosen because it offers a meaningful, recognisable ‘way in’ to study entrepreneurial learning processes, since critical events are not only rich sources of learning but learning from unusual events can often be ‘transformational’ (Cope & Watts, 2000). Additionally, some basic questions about the entrepreneurs’ age, education level and prior work experience were asked, since it is well documented that these factors influence the entrepreneurial process (Shane, 2000). Data analysis

The transcription of the audio-recorded interviews resulted in 153 pages of text, which was further analysed with Atlas-ti, a qualitative analysis program. To structure our data meaningfully, we used Tynjälä’s input-process-output model, inspired by the seminal work of John Biggs (Biggs, 1993), which uses three clusters of learning-related factors: presage, process and product (3-P).Following Tynjälä (2013), presage factors are seen as learner and work environment factors,. A well-known learner-related factor is prior knowledge, while another cluster of individual factors comprises motivational factors. At

138  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans

the work environment level, several studies (e.g. Billet, 2000, Lans et al., 2008) focus on its influence on work-related learning, simply because it is the most important learning environment learners engage in. Work-environment factors that influence learning are the nature of tasks and the sociocultural relations, characterising the work environment. For the process part of the model, Tynjälä (2013) refers to the work activities that foster learning processes. It is a wide array of, both individual and social in nature, learning-related activities (e.g. learning by doing, team work and dealing with challenging tasks), associated with the ongoing entrepreneurial process in a dynamic way, where learning and working are concurrent processes, difficult to separate (Eraut, 2004). The product part of the model pertains to the results of the learning process. The learning outcomes may be a wide and multidimensional array of work related competencies, including cognitive, social and meta-oriented competencies (Lans et al., 2018). The data analysis yielded 26 work-related learning factors, or first-order constructs. These factors were further clustered in five inclusive groups, or secondorder themes. Four of the themes correspond directly to the presage, process and product learning-related factors of the 3-P model as suggested by Tynjälä (2013). Another theme, named ‘Entrepreneurial and Sociocultural Ecosystem Factors’, represents an additional group of learning-related factors.

Results This section presents the results of the data analysis. We structured the results in presage, process and product factors. Presage factors

Table 8.2 shows that the interviewees mentioned a wide range of individual learner factors that, according to them, are important in the entrepreneurial learning process. By far the most frequently mentioned individual learner factor that was mentioned in the interviews was entrepreneurial agency. Entrepreneurial agency refers to the individual entrepreneurial intention of the respondents to get involved Table 8.2 Number, and percentage of the total number, of individual learner factors as recalled by the owner-managers Factor

N

%

Entrepreneurial agency Prior knowledge and experience Entrepreneurial risk perception Personal values towards farming Perceived social competence Learning agency

94 61 52 38 35 19 299

31.4 20.4 17.4 12.7 11.7 6.4 100

Learning to become an entrepreneur 139

into the action of starting-up and operating a farm-business. The involvement in entrepreneurial tasks and activities is not a mere conditioned response to a stimulus, but an intentional planned behaviour towards entrepreneurial career, especially in a recessionary economic context. A respondent commented: In 2011, my construction company went bankrupt. It was the period when the financial crisis was at its zenith and when agriculture was starting to be promoted as a viable option for the future of this country. I decided to be an agri-entrepreneur, because my professional life, I was a businessman. I have learned to be independent, to chase opportunities and make things my own way. Therefore, I started a farming venture, despite the crisis and the fact that I knew nothing about farming, because I wanted to go on having a career as entrepreneur. From what was shared during the interviews it could be concluded that there is no common pattern of entrepreneurial agency amongst the respondents: respondents were referring to a combination of both ‘push’ and ‘pull’ motives. In some cases, these push-and-pull motives were mentioned both by the same interviewee. Hence, amongst crisis-led new entrants there are several gradients of entrepreneurial agency, ranging from voluntary entrepreneurship (agents of their own lives) in a poor environment, to relative necessity entrepreneurship and even absolute necessity entrepreneurship. One of the interviewees indicated: I was unemployed for 2 years and when I spent my last savings, I could not even support my family. Hence, when a friend informed me about a farm that was sold in a very reasonable price, I took a loan from my parents, and bought it. I did so because, at this moment, starting my own farm venture, was the only available way out of unemployment. Furthermore, it seemed like a good opportunity to get involved into a business that was promised a lot of prospects. The second group of presage factors include those associated to the entrepreneurs’ work environment. To what extent does the work environment afford entrepreneurial learning? Table 8.3 shows what the participants mentioned most frequently as work environment affordances in their current work environment. Table 8.3 N umber, and percentage of the total number, of work-environment factors as recalled by the owner-managers Factor

N

%

Presence of weak ties Presence of inner circle Task-related characteristics

138 77 36 251

54.9 30.6 14.5 100

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Particularly, the ‘presence of weak ties’ seemed to be important. It refers to social networks that go beyond farmers’ direct social circle. One of the entrepreneurs mentioned: When I started my farm one of the first things I did was to create a network with the local population and especially the other farmers. Hence, I went to their homes, visited their farms and welcomed them to my farm. All these people are my supporting network. They are my customers, my promotors, a valuable source of trust, knowledge and inspiration. The fact that the ‘presence of weak ties’ is the most mentioned workenvironment factor, is interesting since Greek society is often characterised by experts as strong in familism and low in (bridging) social capital. The respondents acknowledge that the key to learning in the entrepreneur’s role lies into having access to a network ‘away from home’, where there is more room for experimentation and a broader range of information and resources available. However, such a network is also characterised by lack of trust and legitimacy, which makes learning not always easy. Besides individual and work-environment related factors, from the interview data an additional level of factors emerged, called entrepreneurial and sociocultural ecosystem factors, which we categorised as part of the presage factors (see Table 8.4). Next to access to resources, the respondents mentioned the lack of a conducive ‘legal and regulatory framework’. Engaging with the institutional system is highly problematic, since the entrepreneurs perceive that any interaction with the authorities is hindered by bureaucracy, power relations, clientelism and institutional corruption. Even the support programs that are specifically targeted to agri-entrepreneurs are perceived as ineffective. The procedures of applying to such schemes are extensively time consuming, while the inclusion Table 8.4 N umber, and percentage of the total number, of entrepreneurial and sociocultural ecosystem factors as recalled by the owner-managers Factor Access to resources Legal and regulatory framework Access to information and knowledge Cost of farming Regional characteristics Sociocultural legitimacy of agri-entrepreneurship

N

%

71 62 58 47 42 35

22.5 19.9 18.4 14.9 13.3 11

315

100

Learning to become an entrepreneur 141

criteria are perceived as too rigid. The frustration with this system is clearly illustrated by one of the entrepreneurs: Before starting the farm, I had applied for a subsidy measure that was funding people to become farmers. Because of the bureaucracy I spent two years waiting if my application would be approved. Finally, it was rejected, because besides bureaucracy, the whole procedure is full of corruption, and only people related to political parties or other local authorities are favored. The lack of support is also visible in ‘access to knowledge and information’, referring to a support system dedicated to support entrepreneurial learning and entrepreneurship education. What was mentioned by the interviewees is that state advisory/extension services are reluctant to reorient their philosophy from supplying technical, agricultural knowledge, towards supporting entrepreneurial learning of their clientele. The interviewees mention to be lost amongst a pleiad of available advisors who face difficulties to solve their entrepreneurial needs. One of the entrepreneurs explained: There are plenty of agronomic support services, providing all kind of farming advice. But regarding entrepreneurship in agriculture they are completely unable and unwilling to provide any kind of advice. This is because they are stuck to a parochial agricultural model where farming is solely production-oriented. Process factors

Unsurprisingly, in line with what we found from the perspective of the learning environment, which highlighted the presence of social networks, networking was mentioned most frequently as a learning activity in the entrepreneurial learning process (see Table 8.5). These results also further confirm the lack of support from formal education and training.

Table 8.5 Number, and percentage of the total number, of learning-related activities as recalled by the owner-managers Learning-related activities

N

%

Networking Asking for personal feedback Experimentation-improvisation Use of ICT Acquiring knowledge via training

205 71 64 43 24 407

50.4 17.4 15.7 10.6 6.0 100

142  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans

What surprised us, though, was the modest mentioning of Information and Communication Technologies (ICT). The fact that it represented only 10% of the mentioned learning activities is a striking finding, considering the importance of proper ICT use for the growth of entrepreneurship in rural areas and the high education level of many of the interviewees. The interviewees mentioned that certain ICTs (e.g. social media) serve as virtual fora which facilitate communication and interaction amongst new entrants and which allow them to gain voice in promoting their interests and issues of concern. One of the participants mentioned: I am daily using internet to handle several work-related issues.There is also a site, where everybody can be informed about the product and services of the farm. I also have a page in Facebook for more direct interaction and I am a member in an on-line forum for farmers. The results also highlight the importance of ‘experimentation-improvisation’ in resource-constrained contexts, especially in the early years of operation. Many of the respondents indicated that they are engaged in improvisational, experimental learning, to overcome resource scarcity, as well as to create or respond to new emerging opportunities. Experimenting for instance with the adoption of end-user-based business models, where consumers are not merely the last link in the supply chain but where they become crucial actors in the finance and marketing of the farm. As one the respondent mentioned: After the first harvest, I was approached by wholesalers who offered me a ridiculously low price. When I refused to sell in such a price and tried to market the harvest myself, I found out that the wholesalers’ oligopoly had blocked all the available marketing channels. I didn’t manage to sell the harvest and I was almost bankrupt. This forced me to search for an alternative marketing model. So, I decided to test a door- to-door delivery system. It is a model with subscription where for an annual fee, people weekly receive a basket with farm products. With this model, I managed to approach my customers directly, bypassing the middle men. Product factors

The interviews yielded several outcomes of the entrepreneurial learning process, of which entrepreneurial identity was the most frequently mentioned (see Table  8.6). The entrepreneurial identity constitutes of three components: ecological entrepreneurship, resource exploiting entrepreneurship and cultural entrepreneurship. To start with the first two components, the new entrants mentioned

Learning to become an entrepreneur 143 Table 8.6  Outcomes of the entrepreneurial learning process Outcomes Entrepreneurial identity Decision making and problem solving Awareness and understanding Operational philosophy Marketing approach Teamwork

N

%

84 78

23.6 21.9

67

18.8

56 49 22 356

15.7 13.8 6.2 100

that they were committed to preserve the environment yet finding simultaneously new pragmatic ways to create economic benefits. As one of the entrepreneurs explains: Here in the area there is a tradition regarding the inputs used for the cultivation of vines.You only use what is produced within the farm, like compost made from grape remnants. Also, the use of machinery is limited. This is a farming mentality highlighting ecological awareness and environmental protection. But for me it is primarily an integral part of my entrepreneurial modus operandi. Adopting this tradition, I save money from minimizing the inputs, I get subsidies for providing environmental services, while the ecologically produced wine is an excellent marketing tool. Regarding the last component, cultural entrepreneurship, the respondents mentioned to use the plethora of traceable symbols and signs embedded in the geographical place of the farm, as a potential strategy for the development of their agricultural entrepreneurship. One of the respondents mentioned: My farm is located in an area with famous ancient monuments and of great natural beauty. It is also the only place in Greece, where water buffalos can be raised. Therefore, my philosophy as an entrepreneur is based on taking advantage of the unique attributes this place is providing. In other words, I am selling my products by ‘marketing’ the place.

Discussion and conclusion This chapter focused on studying learning in a particular occupational practice, namely that of entrepreneurship. The focus was on the learning of new entrant Greek agri-entrepreneurs in the first 48 months of their entrepreneurial

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occupational activity, under the unfavourable socioeconomic circumstances of the Greek debt-crisis. We were specifically interested to examine what characterised this learning process as this was unfolding within the interaction of the agents, practices, social and cultural systems upholding the construction of the entrepreneurial occupation. In interviews with 18 entrepreneurs we elicited presage, process and products factors in the entrepreneurial learning process which provide a better understanding of this often ill-structured, iterative and implicit learning process. To start with the drivers of the learning process at the individual level, the interviewed entrepreneurs highlight, in this occupational context, the enormous importance of agency. Interestingly, agency was seen by the entrepreneurs as a mixture of different motives, including more necessity (e.g. I have been fired) and opportunistic (e.g. I see a need for local products) drivers well as combinations of both. These results challenge simple dichotomies like push and pull motives, like necessity and opportunity entrepreneurship, used in the early entrepreneurship studies (see the introduction section) to explain entrepreneurship as a career choice. Therefore, the results support more recent work and further refines the idea that entrepreneurial agency does not obey to push and pull factors as mutually exclusive concepts but as an amalgam of both, reflecting the multitude of individual-specific and situation-related influences. The latter implies that instead of theorising agency as an individual ability of the entrepreneurs to get involved into the occupation of entrepreneurship and make things happen, this study identifies agency as a relational, interdependent and socially constructed concept. Regarding the (broader) learning-related work-environment factors, our findings give prominence to the presence and confirm the importance of socalled weak ties (Pindado et al., 2018): the series of heterogeneous linkages with several external stakeholders. The mere presence of open social networks does not directly mean learning will happen by itself. These networks can be highly problematic for learning, as they are often subject to negotiated reciprocity, different social norms, various values and equivocal interests. Moreover, there are issues of trust, power relations, conflicts and reliability which may hinder the entrepreneurial learning process (Lans, Verhees, & Verstegen, 2016). Furthermore, the interviewees indicated that even though entrepreneurship in agriculture is promoted by the state and society as a pillar for the future development of the country and is gaining ground in terms of social legitimacy, the legal and regulatory framework and the advisory system are not at all perceived as appropriate and supporting. The latter is either stuck to a parochial extension system or it provides irrelevant-to-farming generic services. The former suffers from red tape, corruption and the consequences of privatisation and severe budget cuts imposed by the debt-crisis. Thus, from a presage point of view, the entrepreneurs are subject to opposite forces of, on the one hand, strong entrepreneurial agency and, on the other hand, a reliance on a work environment that may be challenging for learning and an unsupportive overarching learning infrastructure. This ‘squeeze’

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seems to resort the wisdom of the Greek phrase: “Poverty and necessity are the mothers of invention”. This point is reflected in the importance of experimental-improvisational learning activities adopted by the interviewees. Examples include trying out business models based on end users, experiments with adding value to the products and services of the farms, testing prior to market introduction, and developing novel unconventional models for the acquisition/allocation of necessary resources. These learning activities seem to be concurrent with what many entrepreneurship education programs teach these days in lean-start-up (e.g. ‘maximise learning with minimal effort’) and effectuation (e.g. ‘start with what you have’) type of programs (Osterwalder & Pigneur, 2010; Sarasvathy, 2001). Despite the high educational level and the spirit of innovation and ingenuity characterising the entrepreneurs in our sample, the use of ICTs for entrepreneurial learning was unexpectedly low. One reason for this could be the regional differences in relevant infrastructure and personal perceptions about the purpose of using ICTs in a farm venture. Another reason could be that the nature of the other, more dominant learning activities like networking and experimenting require the development of trust and direct interaction and thus seem to favour more face-to-face type of settings. Finally, the outcomes of the entrepreneurial learning process stress the development of an entrepreneurial identity, where the participant entrepreneurs identify themselves as ecological, resource exploiting and cultural entrepreneurs. Understanding “what kind of entrepreneur am I?” and “what does this mean for my business?” seems to be at the heart of entrepreneurial learning. The respondents also show the thin line between entrepreneurship as occupation and identity. As the entrepreneur is often the business in our occupational context, self-development and business development go hand-in-hand. The importance of entrepreneurial identity as core to entrepreneurial learning confirms Rae’s (2006) earlier work in high-tech entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurial identity formation is a dynamic process bridging the agency of the individual with the structure of the context. The entrepreneurial identity resonates the questions “who we are” and “what we do” of the entrepreneurs. It reflects a distinct occupational identity, an internal understanding embedded in the overall structure and relating the individual entrepreneurial behaviour and practice with institutional and relational structures. Socialisation – interaction with significant others in the entrepreneurial work environments – seems to be important to identity development. The social context provides resources, opportunities and legitimacy to the entrepreneur formulating a specific room for manoeuvre regarding his/her new venture. However, in turn, the entrepreneur also shaping his/her (social) context actively via a series of entrepreneurial activities which can result in new (learning) outcomes. This dialectical interaction seems to capture the essence of the entrepreneurial learning process (Lans et al., 2008).

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Limitations and recommendations for research and practice As with most studies, this study did not only find answers but also showed how much there is still to uncover. Firstly, it is based on a relatively small sample of 18 cases, in a very specific sector and context. Although this creates also very rich data and high internal validity, further research is needed to test the findings of this study and to examine the learning process in different sectors and regions of Greece and of course in other European countries. A second line of research could involve a more longitudinal study of the entrepreneurs’ learning process. To our best of knowledge, no longitudinal studies on entrepreneurial learning exist; most work is cross-sectional in nature. As the businesses evolve, new challenges for the owner-managers will also appear, as roles, tasks and responsibilities will change. Moreover, most companies fail in the first five years. The entrepreneurial learning process is a highly dynamic phenomenon, including dealing frequently with failure. Additional longitudinal work is therefore needed to generate a better understanding of how the learning process proceeds and is shaped under the change of internal and external factors. This study also has practical value. Amongst its other findings, it highlighted several of the malaises affecting the entrepreneurial ecosystem where new entrant agri-entrepreneurs operate. Parameters such as taxation, the excessive cost of farming, the difficulty of accessing resources, experienced bureaucracy, and inadequate support schemes and advisory systems influence the entrepreneurial behaviour of new entrants, but what is more, they – according to the interviewed entrepreneurs – also seem to make the economic viability of their agricultural ventures scanty or doubtful. Therefore, there is the need for a series of measures and policies, on the national and European Union level, to remedy the shortcomings faced by people who choose a career as agri-entrepreneurs in post-debt-crisis Greece. These measures should address the entrepreneurial activity of new agribusiness entrepreneurs not only from an agricultural scope, but also as a crucial part of a wider rural development model. Proposed solutions include financing the setting-up expenses, assignment of payment entitlements from the national reserves, support for investments in holdings; support for innovative business models which promote a holistic view of the agricultural value chain and create synergies between farming and other sectors; and public investments in infrastructure, regional branding and products differentiation. Another practical implication of this study is the need for these measures and policies to be linked with an entrepreneurial support system with a novel operational rationale, going beyond the generic extension system occupied with technical-production and administrative services, that will cater for diverse, complex queries as well as the context-dependent way these entrepreneurs learn. This research showed that a significant part of

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entrepreneurial learning is realised through relations with networks of weak ties. However, networking and collective participation does not de facto lead to learning. Therefore, advisory services should not merely bring entrepreneurs and other actors together in multi-stakeholder settings but organise spaces for safe conducting and discussion. This would potentially enhance the information-sharing amongst stakeholders and increase the identification of entrepreneurial opportunities. Secondly, this research emphasised that the entrepreneurial learning process is mainly realised through iterative, atypical, non-routinised work-related activities mostly taking place in informal on-the- job settings. However, the experimental nature of learning, the lack of support and the over-reliance on weak ties also makes learning in this occupation risky. It would be interesting to see whether entrepreneurial learning programs (e.g. through adopting tools and methods from effectuation and lean start-up entrepreneurship education) (Harms, 2015) can effectively accelerate entrepreneurial learning without formalising the learning process too much.

References Amores, J. E. and Bosma, N. (2014). Global entrepreneurship monitor: 2013 global report. Babson Park, MA: Babson College. Baggen, Y., Lans, T., Biemans, H. J., Kampen, J. and Mulder, M. (2016). Fostering entrepreneurial learning on-the-job: Evidence from innovative small and medium-sized companies in Europe. European Journal of Education, 51, 193–209. Bergh, P., Torren, S. and Wincent, J. (2011). Entrepreneurs learning together: The importance of building trust for learning and exploiting business opportunities. International Entrepreneurship and Management Journal, 7, 17–37. Biggs, J. B. (1993). From theory to practice: A cognitive systems approach. Higher Education Research & Development, 12, 73–85. Billett, S. (2000). Guided learning at work. Journal of Workplace Learning, 12, 272–285. Cope, J. (2005). Toward a dynamic learning perspective of entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurship Theory and Practice, 29, 373–397. Cope, J. and Watts, G. (2000). Learning by doing: An exploration of experience, critical incidents and reflection in entrepreneurial learning. International Journal of Entrepreneurial Behaviour and Research, 6, 104–124. Corbett, A. C. (2007). Learning asymmetries and the discovery of entrepreneurial opportunities. Journal of Business Venturing, 22(1), 97–118. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jbusvent. 2005.10.001 Damianakos, S. (1997). The ongoing quest for a model of Greek agriculture. Sociologia Ruralis, 37, 190–208. Dimov, D. (2007). From opportunity insight to opportunity intention: The importance of person-situation learning match. Entrepreneurship Theory and Practice, 31(4), 561–583. EIP-AGRI (2016). Focus group new entrants into farming final report. Resource document. European Commission. Accessed 19 August 2017. https://ec.europa.eu/eip/agriculture/ sites/agrieip/files/eipagri_fg_new_entrants_final_report_2016_en.pdf Flanagan, J. C. (1954). The critical incident technique. Psychological Bulletin, 51(4), 327–358.

148  Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans Gibb, A. A. (2002). Creating conducive environments for learning and entrepreneurship: Living with, dealing with, creating and enjoying uncertainty and complexity. Industry and Higher Education, 16, 135–148. Gkartzios, M. (2013). ‘Leaving Athens’: Narratives of counterurbanisation in times of crisis. Journal of Rural Studies, 32, 158–167. Harms, R. (2015). Self-regulated learning, team learning and project performance in entrepreneurship education: Learning in a lean start-up environment. Technological Forecasting and Social Change, 100, 21–28. Higgins, D. and Elliott, C. (2011). Learning to make sense: What works in entrepreneurial education? Journal of European Industrial Training, 35, 345–367. Kasimis, C. and Zografakis, S. (2012). ‘Return to the land’: Rural Greece as refuge to crisis. Paper Presented at the XIII World Congress of Rural Sociology, July 29 to August 4, 2012, Lisbon, Portugal. Kasimis, C. and Zografakis, S. (2013). Back to agriculture? Quarterly Political and Economic Review: International and European Politics, 13–27 (In Greek). Kasimis, C. and Zografakis, S. (2014). Crisis and return to farming. In Zambarloukou, S. and Kowsi, M. (Eds.) Social Aspects of Crisis in Greece (pp. 135–170). Athens: Pedion Editions (in Greek). Lans, T., Baggen, Y. and Ploum, L. (2018). Towards more synergy in entrepreneurial competence research in entrepreneurship education. In Fayolle, A. (Ed.) Research Agenda for Entrepreneurship Education (pp. 224–242). Cheltenham: Edward Elger. Lans, T., Biemans, H., Verstegen, J. and Mulder, M. (2008). The influence of the work environment on entrepreneurial learning of small- business owners. Management Learning, 39, 597–613. Lans,T.,Verhees, F. and Verstegen, J. (2016). Social competence in small firms-fostering workplace learning and performance. Human Resource Development Quarterly, 27, 321–348. Middleton, K. W. and Donnellon, A. (2014). Personalizing entrepreneurial learning: A pedagogy for facilitating The Know Why. Entrepreneurship Research Journal, 4, 167–204. Ministry of Rural Development and Food (2012). Press Release 27/3/2012. Athens: Ministry of Rural Development and Food (In Greek). Accessed 23 August 2017. www.minagric.gr/ index.php/el/the-ministry/grafeiotypou/deltiatypou/516-dt27032012.html Osterwalder, A. and Pigneur, Y. (2010). Business Model Generation – A Handbook for Visionaries, Game Changers and Challengers. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons. Pindado, E., Sánchez, M., Verstegen, J. A. A. M. and Lans, T. (2018). Searching for the entrepreneurs among new entrants in European agriculture:The role of human and social capital. Land Use Policy, 77, 19–30. Rae, D. (2006). Entrepreneurial learning: A conceptual framework for technology-based enterprise. Technology Analysis and Strategic Management, 18, 39–56. Reynolds, P. D., Camp, S. M., Bygrave, W. D., Autio, E. and Hay, M. (2002). Global entrepreneurship monitor gem 2001 summary report. Babson Park, MA: London Business School and Babson College. Rosa, P., Kodithuwakku, S. S. and Balunywa, W. (2008). Entrepreneurial motivation in developing countries: What does ‘necessity’ and ‘opportunity’ entrepreneurship really mean? Frontiers of Entrepreneurship Research 2006. http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.1310913 Sarasvathy, S. D. (2001). Causation and effectuation: Toward a theoretical shift from economic inevitability to entrepreneurial contingency. Academy of Management Review, 26(2), 243–263.

Learning to become an entrepreneur 149 Seuneke, P., Lans, T. and Wiskerke, J. S. C. (2013). Moving beyond entrepreneurial skills: Key factors driving entrepreneurial learning in multifunctional agriculture. Journal of Rural Studies, 32, 208–219. Shane, S. (2000). Prior knowledge and the discovery of entrepreneurial opportunities. Organization Science, 11(4), 448–469. Shane, S. and Venkataraman, S. (2000). The promise of entrepreneurship as a field of research. The Academy of Management Review, 25, 217–226. Sutherland, L-A., Zagata, L. and Wilson, G. A. (2015). Conclusions. In Sutherland, L-A., Darnhofer, I., Zagata, L. and Wilson, G. A. (Eds.) Transition Pathways Towards Sustainability in European Agriculture (pp. 207–222). Wallingford, UK: CABI. Tynjälä, P. (2013). Toward a 3-P model of workplace learning: A literature review. Vocations and Learning, 6, 11–36. Vogel, P. (2017). From venture idea to venture opportunity. Entrepreneurship Theory and Practice, 41(6), 943–971. Wals, A. E., Hoeven, N. V. and Blanken, H. (2009). The Acoustics of Social Learning: Designing Learning Processes That Contribute to a More Sustainable World. Wageningen, Netherlands: Wageningen Academic Publishers. Wood, M. S. and McKinley, W. (2010). The production of entrepreneurial opportunity: A constructivist perspective. Strategic Entrepreneurship Journal, 4(1), 66–84.

Chapter 9

Professionalism and affective learning for new prison officers Learning values, attitudes and behaviours in training at the Scottish Prison Service Katrina Morrison

Introduction Howard Bloom and his colleagues identified different ‘domains’ of learning in the mid-20th century, which relate broadly to ‘knowledge’ (the cognitive domain), ‘beliefs’ (the affective domain) and ‘skills’ (the psychomotor domain) (Bloom et al., 1956). Different programmes of learning may require a different balance between these three domains, and many work-based learning programmes in particular will require the need for knowledge and beliefs to be demonstrated through skills (Helyer, 2016). This chapter will highlight the importance of learning relating to the ‘affective domain’ for the training of new prison officer recruits to the Scottish Prison Service (SPS), by drawing on preliminary data from research which seeks to understand recruits in greater detail. This chapter asks: • Why is learning appropriate professional values important to the role of the role of the prison officer? • How can values be learnt in the ‘affective domain’? • How are values taught to SPS officer recruits in their induction training? • How successful is SPS induction training at developing appropriate professional values? This chapter is framed within a changing landscape of professional practice at the SPS. Following the publication of the Organisational Review in 2013, it is now recognised that staff must have the right knowledge, understanding and skills so that they too can support the positive change of those in custody (SPS, 2013). Since then, reforms aimed at professionalising the service are underway in order to create ‘a degree of skill and professionalism that has not before existed in the prison setting’ (SPS, 2016: 1). There is no ‘one’ definition of professionalism (Whitecross, 2016), but two key aspects of ‘professional practice’ are the ability to make ‘complex decisions’ drawing on ‘technical knowledge, skills

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and informed judgement’ (Sullivan, 2005), and adherence to an ethical code, which can be enshrined in a (regulated) code of practice (Whitecross, 2016). This chapter is based on officers working at the SPS, which is considerably smaller in scale than the Prison Service in England and Wales, employing just over 4,500 staff across Scotland. There are 15 prisons in Scotland, two of which are privately operated. It should be noted that although there are similarities between a Scottish prison officer and their counterpart in England and Wales, in recent years the SPS has taken a new trajectory under its most recent Chief Executive (McAra, 2017; Morrison and Sparks, 2015). A central strand of these changes is reforming the role of the prison officer, as outlined earlier.Therefore, although there will be reference in this chapter to the literature based on prisons in England and Wales, this is primarily because there a great sparsity in the academic literature on Scottish prison officers, and there are many similarities in terms of the historic status of the profession, tendency to attract staff from military backgrounds and professional cultures, as described later. Prison officers in Scotland are initially employed as Operation Officers, whose job is orientated more towards managing the security of a prison, though they do engage with people in custody. Tasks include, for example, controlling security (cameras and internal doors), patrolling the perimeter and checking vehicles on entry and exit, but also include escorting people in custody within the prison, working on reception (which processes people when arriving and leaving custody), monitoring visits and being on duty in prison halls during nightshift. All prison officers will begin in an Operations Officer role when employed by the SPS. After a number of years, they may then become promoted to a Residential Officer, whose role involves more intensive interaction with those in custody, working on the halls and acting as a Personal Officer to people in custody (see SPS, 2017a). Qualification requirements to be a prison officer are minimal (Five National 5 Qualifications including Maths and English, or equivalent qualifications or relevant people facing experience), though candidates must pass a basic numeracy and literacy assessment as part of their recruitment. The current operational workforce (those whose roles involve interacting directly with people in custody) are 25% female and 75% male, though current recruitment is nearly 50/50. Prison officers are very loyal to the service and many remain employed for the duration of their professional careers. This reflects the age profile of operational staff, the largest group of which is 56–60. Everyone employed by the SPS is expected to behave in role according to the SPS organisational values. These are: belief that people can change; respect for individuals, their needs and their human rights; integrity in the application of high ethical, moral and professional standards; openness when working with others to achieve the best outcomes; courage to care regardless of circumstances; and humility that we cannot do this on our own, we recognise we can learn from others (see SPS, 2017b).

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Literature review Two areas of literature will contextualise this chapter’s research questions: first, that which examines the role of a prison officer in greater detail, and which highlights the importance of appropriate values through which professional behaviours occur; and second, learning in the ‘affective domain’, which highlights the importance of learning which develops beliefs and values, and discusses ways in which this can occur well. The role of a prison officer

The role of the prison officer is one which has traditionally held a low status, perhaps due in part to its low visibility (Liebling et al., 2010), its relatively low entry requirements, and its low pay, certainly at entry level. However, closer examination of officers’ work when carried out well reveals it to require a high degree of skill and expertise, even if not evident to an onlooker and perhaps even taken for granted by the officer. As Hay and Sparks observed: ‘Like a footballer, who can score a wonderful goal but not really describe how he did it, prison officers sometimes exercise social skills of such great refinement and complexity without dwelling upon or understanding what they are doing’ (1991: 1). Officers perform tasks underpinned by conflicting rationales in a demanding environment with some of the most vulnerable and challenging individuals in our society. Officers are required to monitor risk and security and to maintain order, whilst at the same time empathising, supporting, building hope and demonstrating personal resilience (Crawley, 2004; Bennett et al., 2008; Liebling et al., 2010). Reforms currently underway in the SPS mean that in the future prison officers are expected to play a central role in helping to ‘unlock the potential’ of those in custody, by taking a greater role as ‘counsellors, role models, coaches and advocates of the people in their care’ (SPS, 2016), as well as the more traditional focus on security and order. The skills required for the job are various, but some of the most important are interpersonal and communication skills. If officers possess these they will be able to harness relationships and deal with conflict before it escalates. Along with interpersonal skills, two other noteworthy skills are required for the role. The first is the use of discretion, which is carried out according to an understood set of moral principles (Liebling et al., 2010). If officers do this well, they are regarded by staff and people in custody as operating with ‘personal legitimacy’, the natural authority which is earned and then exercised in order to secure order, compliance and co-operation (Crawley, 2004; Liebling, 2011). Discretion, of course, is personal, subjective and usually acted on in the moment, it will be influenced very strongly by the values and sentiments of the individual taking decisions. As Liebling argues, prison officers must therefore require and demonstrate the ‘appropriate attitudes as well as conduct’ (2011: 486) [my italics].

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Secondly, officers must have the ability to care in an emotive professional arena, whilst managing any conflict with personal and emotional responses to crimes committed (Tait, 2008). However, caring and supporting must also be balanced with the ability to perform the job with confidence, experience and knowledge, resulting in a feeling of safety and security within prisons, defined by Liebling and Crewe as ‘basic professionalism’ (2017: 897).The ability to demonstrate compassion and care, alongside the maintenance of appropriate boundaries and rules, is what distinguishes a ‘good’ officer from any other (Crewe and Liebling, 2017; Tait, 2011). The enclosed working environment, in such close proximity to people in custody, means officers are in many ways living with people in their care. In this context, the ability to feign a set of values which do not truly mirror one’s own will be challenging. Officers will perform best when they are authentic and professional, and they work through the ‘grain of [their] own personality’ (Liebling et al., 2010, p. 60). Though there may be specific skills required for different regimes or different populations in custody, values of honesty, integrity and truth are vital for all officers (Liebling et al., 2010, p. 60). To summarise, the role of a prison officer is complex and often demanding. Along with interpersonal and communication skills, it requires a wise use of discretion and the ability to care in the contested emotional arena of crime and punishment. The proximity of officers to people in custody, and the insularity and intensity of the working environment, means that it becomes very difficult to act according to a set of values which are not one’s own. Officers perform their role best when the (professional) relationships they form with people in custody are built upon a genuine reflection of who they are. Training for prison officers should therefore seek to develop the beliefs and values required for this complex role, alongside the knowledge and skills more traditionally associated with it. Affective learning

People learn in many ways in informal and informal learning environments. Though people may think of school and universities as places in which people learn facts, concepts and theory, in fact they are also learning physical skills (how to mix acids in a science experiment for example), and also developing a range of attitudes and emotions (for example, a belief in the importance of human rights, a horror of wars and atrocities, or an appreciation for art and music). These different areas of knowledge have been conceptualised as the three ‘domains’ of learning: the ‘cognitive domain’ relates to ‘knowledge’, the ‘psychomotor domain’ relates to manual or physical ‘skills’, and finally the ‘affective’ domain related to ‘feelings, emotions, attitudes’ (Bloom et al., 1956), though it is recognised that these domains will grow in tandem and feed into each other.

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As in the cognitive domain where learning could be understood as growing from a simple level of ‘knowledge’, to an advanced level of ‘evaluation’ (Bloom et al., 1956), so too Bloom and his colleagues organised the affective domain in a hierarchy from a simple to a more advanced level of learning. As with the cognitive domain, where the hierarchy increases according to the internalisation, application and synthesis of knowledge, so too in the affective domain, growth in learning on feelings and attitudes grows from a beginning level of an awareness of values, to a higher level in which a value system becomes a fully integrated outlook, belief system and pattern of behaviours. It is recognised that this stage may take a period of time beyond the scope of a single programme of study, as Reeves argues, ‘it takes maturity to find lasting answers to questions such as: Who am I, and What do I stand for?’ (1990: 615). Learning in the affective domain does not replace, or take priority over, cognitive learning; these domains should occur in tandem and feed into each other. It is through the synthesis and evaluation of knowledge and understanding that values and beliefs develop, are contextualised, and can be demonstrated in behaviours. There are a number of reasons why the affective domain may have been so neglected in the design and delivery of learning in relation to its cognitive partner. Firstly, its goals are (or can be at the higher levels), much more longterm than those in the cognitive domain (Hauenstein, 1998: 59). Secondly, they are certainly more difficult to measure (Cate and De Haes, 2000). Thirdly, and finally, in a world of social pluralism in which we live within a multiplicity of belief systems (Reeves, 1990), insisting on a particular set of internal values (and potentially issuing grades on this basis), can render the accusation of policing ‘freedom of thought’ rather than focusing on the ‘performance in role’ (Cate and De Haes, 2000: 40). As argued earlier, however, beliefs, values and attitudes profoundly affect performance in roles (Neuman and Forsyth, 2008); thus the need to include this aspect of learning in curriculum design must remain despite the resistance it may face. Affective learning has latterly grown in importance in the field of professional learning. This is linked closely to emerging concerns with professionalism and professional standards in a number of sectors and the consequential focus to prioritise matters of ethical conduct within professional learning once again (see, for example, Creuss and Creuss, 2006 for medicine, and Whitecross, 2016 for law). Including professional values in formal learning experiences can be challenging and may not be as enduring as learning informally from role-models or through communities of practice; professional values are often ‘caught, not taught’ (Van Valkenburg and Holden, cited in Neuman and Forsyth, 2008: 248). Nonetheless, formal learning experiences are easier to control, and should be an essential starting point. Including beliefs and values in curriculum design and delivery requires different approaches than those in the cognitive domain. The literature suggests different ways in which affective learning can be supported in professional learning.

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First, framing learning around a set of organisational values or mission can direct learning design and delivery (Neuman and Forsyth, 2008). Secondly, focusing on professional behaviours as an articulation of a set of beliefs and values addresses the concerns that affective learning and assessment is policing ‘freedom of thought’ (Cate and De Haes, 2000). Third, that although teaching values in professional settings can occur as stand-alone topics, they should also be woven throughout the whole curriculum (Creuss and Creuss, 2006). Fourth, affective learning occurs best when active (rather than passive) learning activities are deployed, and when professional values and personal values are related and integrated (Neuman and Forsyth, 2008). Fifth, experiential learning (structured periods of learning in the workplace), and reflecting on (and in) action (Schon, 1987) will support affective learning. Learning activities involving reflection are key to learning in the affective domain (Neuman and Forsyth, 2008; Creuss and Creuss, 2006), because any reorganisation of personal values requires self-awareness, the ability to connect ideas to practice, and an openness to reconfiguring future action as a result of a revised outlook. Sixth, assessment strategies should include an affective learning focus. What is important is what has been learnt, not what has been taught (Creuss and Creuss, 2006) and, as the axiom states, ‘assessment drives the learning’ (Wood, 2009). Assessment strategies are therefore a key means of assuring affective learning has occurred and of supporting this process. Furthermore, assessing learning on values and attitudes gives this subject ‘weight’ in relation to its cognitive counterparts, even though these areas are undoubtedly more problematic to assess than cognitive learning (Cate and De Haes, 2000). This may be because of the ‘how’ question (Self-report? Peer observation of professional behaviour?), but also a residual discomfort with assessing how people feel about an issue, even if their professional behaviours seem, at the moment of assessment, to be adequate (Cate and De Haes, 2000). The literature therefore suggests that the training for prison officers should attend to aspects of learning which can develop attitudes and the appropriate moral underpinning to be able to use discretion well, and to be able to care even in the most contested emotional arena. Learning which develops these skills will occur in the affective domain which focuses on feelings, emotions and attitudes (Bloom et al., 1956). Affective learning can be enabled by framing learning around a set of organisational values, assessing professional behaviours through which attitudes and values are expressed, weaving values throughout the entire curriculum, deploying active and experiential learning approaches which also promote reflection, and finally, by including affective learning measurements in assessment strategies.

Methodology This chapter focuses on how prison officer induction training at the SPS teaches in the affective domain by developing feelings, emotions, attitudes and values.

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Data comes from a research project examining how new officer recruits learnt and developed during training and early operational experience. Approval for this research was granted by the Scottish Prison Service Research Access and Ethics Committee in spring 2017. The number of officers recruited to the service varies year by year, but has averaged around 140 per year, staggered in cohorts of an average size of 35.This research focused on a single cohort of recruits, chosen at a random point in the year, totalling 31. Because the sample size is small, the results are not intended to be statistically significant, and it is likely there will be some small variation across different cohorts of recruits joining at other times of the year. However, this group were not felt by the SPS to be atypical, and their selection process mirrored that of other cohorts of recruits to the service. Data for this chapter come firstly from curriculum analysis of the Officer Foundation Programme (OFP) induction training, which outlines the content of training and its teaching methodologies. Empirical data for this chapter are drawn from focus groups with recruits at the outset of their training (Phase 1) and the conclusion of their training six weeks later (Phase 2). Participation in this research was voluntary, a point emphasised to recruits in information sheets and consent forms, and verbally by the researcher. However, the author is mindful of the fact that she was also an employee of the service at the time of the research, and that recruits may have felt a degree of pressure to take part, not least as they were eager to make a good impression at the beginning of their career with the service. Therefore, although every care was taken to avoid coercion, the status of the participants and of the researcher mean that true informed consent may have been compromised. For the same reasons, participants may also have felt constrained in their ability to be completely free in opinions provided during focus groups. Despite all assurances provided around confidentiality and anonymity, it is likely that their status as newly employed prison officers at the beginning of their career, and the researcher’s position as an employee of the service, may have compromised the extent to which they felt free to be completely free to voice their opinions in this forum. The same officers participated in Phases 1 and 2, enabling a reflection of their learning throughout their training. Phases 1 and 2 each had four separate focus groups held concurrently over one afternoon, with between six to eight officers in each. Out of a total cohort size of 31, 30 officers participated in focus groups in Phase 1 and 29 participated in Phase 2. There were 18 males and 12 females in the first round of focus groups and 18 males and 11 females in the second round of focus groups. Questions during focus groups in Phase 1 examined their motivations for joining the service, their expectations of the role and of their training, and their experiences in their first week’s visit to the prison environment (which occurs prior to starting at the SPS College). Questions during Phase 2 focus groups examined their experiences of learning during training and their perceptions and beliefs relating to prisons, crime

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and people in custody. Please see the Appendix for an outline of focus group questioning schedules. Focus groups were transcribed and all participants were anonymised in this process. Data were analysed using qualitative analysis software which allowed key themes to be identified. Because data was qualitative and arose from a small and non-representative sample, the findings do not identify prevalence and are not intended to represent all recruits to the service. Themes identified in the findings section of the chapter therefore represent commonly occurring themes in focus groups during Phases 1 and 2.

Findings This section will discuss how prison officer recruits learn feelings, emotions, attitudes and values in their induction training, the OFP. It will begin by outlining the course content and teaching methods, before discussing data from recruits at the beginning and conclusion of their training. The Officer Foundation Training Programme: curriculum analysis

The OFP is the mandatory training for all new prison officers who join the service as Operations Officers. As discussed earlier, the Operations Officers’ role is orientated to a greater extent towards the security aspects of working within prisons than the promoted Residential Officer role, which is based to a greater degree on working and engaging with men and women in custody. Nonetheless, there are two key reasons why induction training should also attend to the development of their attitudes, beliefs and values required for working with people in custody. First, Operations Officers do hold positions of influence and support with people in custody in their role, for example during night shifts, monitoring visits, escorting people throughout the prison, and processing upon arrival and release. Second, the OFP training is in many ways the most important training that officers will take part in during their professional careers: it is mandatory (much other training is optional); it is the longest training they will receive from the service; and it comes at the beginning of their service, thereby setting the tone and establishing expectations for the rest of their professional lives. It is therefore important that their induction training equips them with the correct value based required to work in the service in any role, alongside knowledge about the security focused more process driven competencies required to be an Operations Officer. The OFP begins with a relatively informal orientation week within the prison environment and is followed by a six-week training course, with an optional seventh week for those working with specific populations in custody. The majority of the six-week training takes place in the SPS College, though there is also learning in a simulated prison environment, and recently some

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learning in live operational environments has also been introduced (on the topic of ‘searching’ for example). The OFP contributes towards the Scottish Vocational Qualification (SVQ) in Custodial Care, which recruits must complete in their first two years in post. The OFP faces the difficult task of balancing on one hand the need for assurance regarding competency on key security related tasks in adherence with policy and legislation, with on the other hand learning which may be more theoretically informed and perceived as less important for operational assurance attuned to safety and risk. This is reflected in the schedule of the OFP, which, over the six-week timetable, focuses to a large degree on the tasks and skills required for the operational aspects of the role. These include a full week of Control and Restraint (C&R) (how to de-escalate conflict and legally restrain someone in a violent situation) and sessions on tasks such as operating radios, controlling internal and external security, searching people in custody, cell searching, and how to write reports. A minority of sessions within the OFP focus on learning which could be considered as primarily focused on learning in the affective domain. These include the first two days of the training which focus on ‘understanding the organisation’, including a discussion on organisational values, a day focused on equality and diversity, a session on ‘desistance’ (the theoretical framework which explains how people stop offending, a key part of which is based around the working through relationships and building hope and belief in change) and a half-day session on reflective practice. Organisational values are therefore addressed as stand-alone topics, and attempts are also made to embed these into other topics throughout the training: for example, how to search an individual with dignity and respect, whilst also maintaining custodial security within the parameters of policy and legislation. The SPS College is seeking to incorporate more ‘active learning’ methodologies and to move away from an overreliance on overhead presentations. Sessions addressing domains of affective learning are especially suited to this. For example, in a session on values and reflective practice, the recruits are asked to compare cultural values, organisational values and their own personal values, and discuss how potential conflicts between these are managed and resolved. In the session on ‘desistance’, they take part in a ‘Socratic circle’ in which they are required to discuss how they feel about whether individuals in custody can change in different contexts. Some learning exercises ask the recruits to argue a point from an opposing point of view they themselves hold: for example, whether people in custody should have the right to smoke, or the right to vote, or to compare a professional response to a situation (for example, working with a child sex offender when one is a parent), from the perspective of an officer, a senior manager or from an HR manager. Nonetheless, the majority of the OFP is focused on developing competencies in the tasks and processes required to provide operational assurances for the role. There remain sessions which rely on learning via overheads or e-learning,

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or through learning skills such as how to operate an X-ray machine, or how to search a cell. It is also notable that the only summative assessments on the OFP are ‘control and restraint’ and ‘escorting’ people in custody, because they form part of the SVQ in Custodial Care.The rest of the OFP is not assessed, although there are a number of reviews based on the ‘behavioural competency framework’ (BCF) (SPS, 2017c). In these reviews, the recruits are graded according to a number of behaviours, though it is notable that these were written before the refreshed Mission and Values of the Service and are not aligned to them. The BCF does include one single reference to values: ‘you understand the vision of SPS – you understand how your job supports and delivers correctional excellence (and you demonstrate this in line with the values of the organisation)’. However, overall the BCF is heavily skewed towards other behaviours, including business delivery, communication and developing the organisation (SPS, 2017c). Furthermore, no recruit has failed these reviews, though several have been given some additional time before they may have a second attempt. They are thus formative, not summative, and not aligned explicitly with the values of the service. To summarise, the key role of the OFP is to provide the operational assurances required to perform the role of an Operations Officer and is therefore heavily skewed towards ensuring officers complete the training knowing how to perform security focused tasks in line with legislative and policy requirements. There are a minority of sessions within the training which address learning more aligned with the affective domain, and there is an attempt to ensure that all learning within the OFP remains aligned with the values of the service, although these often to not rely on active learning methods and they are not summative assessed. Affective learning in the Officer Foundation Programme: recruit experiences

The following section of the chapter draws on focus groups with recruits at the outset (Phase 1) and conclusion (Phase 2) of the OFP training (see the Appendix for focus group questionnaire schedules). Outset of training: Phase 1

When recruits arrived at the SPS College for the beginning of the OFP, they had already had one week’s informal orientation in their establishment in which they would return to work on completion of training.This week helped to orientate many of them to a custodial environment, which was useful given that many of them had not been inside a prison before. One recurring theme in all focus groups when recounting this week’s visit was a surprise at how calm and friendly the prison environment was and how good the relationships were between officers and people in custody. As recruits put it:

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I was expecting like bars everywhere and prisoners just locked up and – yeah, one of that. I expected it to be a dreary place but it just wasn’t. . . . Yeah, marching, queues to and from lunch. I was surprised at the relationship the Officers and the prisoners had, that was the main thing that I – well, I couldn’t really believe it, that it was that informal and, sort of, not friendly but not antagonistic, which is what I thought it would be. . . . I mean, you don’t forget they’re a prisoner but you expect them to hate you straight off the bat, if you’ve got a white shirt on that’s it, don’t want to speak to you – but they’re happy to converse and tell you about their day, tell you what they’ve done. The recruits had therefore chosen to become prison officers with an expectation of working in a combative and adversarial professional environment in which there is more hostility between people in custody and prison staff than is the case in the SPS in 2017. This therefore underlines the need for prison officer training to emphasise the relational aspects to the role, as well as the more security-focused elements they were anticipating. Despite the fact that many of them were surprised by how positive the relationships between officers and people in custody were, when asked what the most anticipated aspect of training was, the most frequent response in all Phase 1 focus groups was C&R, the week-long training in de-escalating conflict and the legal use of force against people in custody in violent situations. As one of the recruits put it when asked what part of training they were looking forwards to the most, they said: ‘Control and restraint, everyone’s looking forward to that, let’s be honest’.This seemed to relate to the fact that C&R was a physical learning experience (in opposition to the Microsoft PowerPoint–heavy sessions they were expecting for the rest of their training), and the fact that many of them felt a genuine trepidation about safety in a custodial environment. It also suggested a misunderstanding of the nature of the prison officer role, which is not orientated primarily around conflict with people in custody as many of them seemed to expect. The fact that C&R was the most anticipated part of training underlines the need to focus on affective aspects of learning which develop the more care orientated aspects of the job in line with the values of the service. Many of the recruits voiced trepidation of learning prior to starting their training, for many this was because they had not enjoyed formal education at school, compounded by the fact that school was some time in the past now. I think it’s just the unknown. I generally just thought it was going to be, like, test after test after test and I left school a long, long time ago and I’ve not done tests and things so I was a wee bit worried about that. However, their attitude towards learning was not helped by their first week’s visits in prisons, in which they encountered many negative views of formal

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learning and training (particularly amongst the longer serving staff). Furthermore, that some recruits held a Higher Education qualification was not held with much value by these staff in the prison environment. As one recruit put it: The longer a serviceman’s been in the worse the story is. It seems to be anybody who has been in less than 10 years will tell you it’s a fine place, College is good, been in more than 10 years they’ll tell you it’s the worst place on earth. I think as well it had something to do with the fact that most of [the prison officers] did their training on the job when they started. . . . It’s like most people, when you get a situation with folk have been to Uni and folk who haven’t and it’s like, [sarcastic voice] ‘aw you went to Uni’ type situation. During their orientation week prior to starting at the SPS College, many of the recruits had been told by existing staff to approach the OPF by, as one recruit put it: ‘getting your head down and getting it done’ without engaging with the training, but just doing enough to complete it, and that the ‘real learning would happen on the job’. Although there was also enthusiasm for learning from others throughout the prison estate, for many others, training at the College clearly remains regarded as a ‘tick box’ exercise by many, something that you need to ‘get through’ without engaging with or of learning adding value to your work. The attitude towards learning held by staff throughout the SPS (particularly the longer-serving officers) matters for new recruits’ learning because there are two week-long blocks of the OFP which take place in the prisons setting (the orientation week at the start and some periods of learning in operational environments). Focus groups with recruits at the beginning of their training therefore underlined the need for affective learning to occur during the OFP. That a number of recruits had chosen to become prison officers with the understanding that they would be working in a hostile environment in which conflict with people in custody and violence were the norm suggests the need for a far greater understanding of the aspects of role relating to relationships, care and support, in the recruits. The context in which this needs to occur, however, is one in which there was significant trepidation about learning from some recruits, and an organisational culture which could be dismissive of the value of formal learning and qualifications, and of training at the College. Conclusion of training: Phase 2

As argued earlier, the OFP attempts to balance the requirement to provide organisational assurance on competencies on key security-related tasks required to operate safely and in line with legislative and policy requirements with learning which may be more aligned with theoretical and value-focused

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topics. Nonetheless, the OFP does support the development of learning in the affective domain, which is so imperative for prison officers who must work according to the organisational values. Though caution must be taken over what is achievable over a six-week training course based primarily in a classroom setting, recruits did recount learning which seemed to have begun to evolve from a simple level of ‘awareness’ of beliefs and attitudes required for the role, towards becoming a more ‘integrated’ outlook, as Bloom and his colleagues articulated (Krathwohl et al., 1956). Although the expectation that a fully integrated change in beliefs, attitudes and behaviours could occur within a short period of time is unrealistic (Reeves, 1990), many of the recruits did nonetheless feel as though training had changed their beliefs around being a prison officer and about people in custody during this period. The most discussed aspect of this in all focus groups was the value of learning about desistance and the importance of working through relationships with those in custody. As recruits articulated: I think probably coming into the job you’re just expecting . . . security, watching the people in custody, moving the people in custody, front of house and things . . . but when you come into it and you start week one . . . and then you find out it’s all based on building relationships. It’s quite different probably from what you would think. Yeah, that was definitely the biggest change in expectation for me was the fact that you spend so much more time building relationships, I thought it was all just about watching the all the time and staying vigilant and keeping an eye on everything constantly, aye definitely. Seeing that, you know, the more experienced Officers they’re in building relationships with some of the guys, it’s definitely a lot different than I thought. Things on the course like the Desistance, it never even occurred to me that as an Operations Officer you have that role to play where you would – I know it’s not a direct thing, you’re going to do the Desistance in the classroom, but just chatting to folk that’s the only thing for me that sort of stuck out [during training]. This made the recruits generally feel more positive about their role and about working with people in custody, as another recruit commented: I think it makes [my expectation about the job] better because I think it gives you more of a purpose for being there, rather than just, you know being watching over the security of prison, it gives you more of a purpose and more of an opportunity to actually help some of the people that are in the prison. The nature of focus groups means it is difficult to assess if all participants felt the same way, but the part of training which was referred to most positively by

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the greatest number of participants related to learning about desistance and the role that they had supporting this for people held in custody. Learning about desistance in the OFP occurred with a Socratic circle learning exercise which asked recruits to discuss and relate how they felt about the topic in a safe and supportive learning environment, an active learning approach which necessitates engagement with the topic on a personal as well as professional level. Learning throughout the OFP also enabled the recruits to begin seeing the people in custody as people, rather than ‘prisoners’. I do see them as being different now, do you know what I mean, like, when I first walked in the prison for our first week, I was kind of like, ‘whoa, like, what are these guys capable of ’, kind of thing but now it’s like, they are just people and, like, in terms of they’ve made shitty choices or whatever. Nonetheless, some recruits retained the separation between ‘the person’ and ‘the crime’. The people themselves my opinion’s changed, but what they’ve done, it doesn’t – do you know what I mean, yeah they might have had a terrible upbringing and stuff but what they’ve done it’s not right, so they’re in prison for a reason, so that part hasn’t changed, but I’ve now got a better understanding of why they’ve done what they’ve done and stuff, but you’re in prison for a reason, the Courts send you to us for a reason. When asked where this more nuanced understanding of people in custody and the contexts of their offending came from, recruits seemed to think it was both learning substantive ‘topics’ (i.e. adverse childhood experiences in the prison population), but also just exposure to and contact with people in custody and the staff who worked with them, which in and of itself helped to break down those misconceptions. Prior to starting here – well I, I know that I have thought that dealing on a face to face basis with inmates . . . would be harder – you think, oh – you’ve got a tag, you’ve got a label, but when you’re actually handling – working, you’re thinking this is a human being, that’s a person, do you know what I mean, interact with them. Before we started [training], it was easy to sort of judge them because you never seem them, it’s not until you actually meet them and you think, well, ‘who am I to judge him’. However, other areas of the OFP which attempted to develop affective learning were not regarded as highly by recruits. They felt as though the e-learning packages (which include learning about ‘equality and diversity’), did not result in any meaningful learning. During focus groups they recounted how they had

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clicked through the material as quickly as they could without really engaging with it. They felt as though these parts of training were designed in order to provide organisational assurance, rather than because anyone thought it would result in meaningful and enduring learning. As they reflected: The e-learning was just 100% [the organisation protecting itself], that was just basically . . . it’s your signature, so that we can sign you off and if you do any of this wrong – they know full well nobody’s actually sitting there reading that for 2 hours, they just want the box ticked. The e-learning’s a joke to be honest. Topics such as ‘equality and diversity’ are essential to the development of affective learning in the prisons setting because they underline the need for an understanding of individual differences and equal treatment. Though there is also a full day’s classroom session on ‘equality and diversity’, which acts as a facilitated discussion of the digital learning session which preceded it, the recruits nonetheless felt as though the e-learning content was there to provide the organisation with assurance (thereby putting responsibility on the learner for any operational mistakes), rather providing a meaningful way of ensuring learning of a particular topic. They similarly felt as though the policy-heavy elements of the training had little impact on them and were unlikely to have any enduring effect. It’s just the fact that they can turn around and say, ‘well, we taught you the right way, it’s up to you now to do it whatever way you want’, it’s just tick a box. I feel all the stuff at the College is mainly just so they can tick the box and say to you, ‘if you go back to your Establishment and say, you mess up on something’ – it’s your fault. A three or four hour class on policies, it’s like, – personally, that’s my personal opinion I don’t know if everybody thinks the same but I feel like a lot of the classes are just for policy to tick a box. Data from focus groups at the end of recruits’ induction training therefore revealed affective learning in relation particularly to the importance of relationships in the work of prison officers, and to the importance of supporting desistance from crime. There was also an increased understanding of people in custody as individuals, rather than ‘prisoners’, and the socio-economic contexts of imprisonment. While some of this was undoubtedly due to formal learning experiences on the OFP, this was also supported by exposure to and interaction with, people in custody during periods of operational experience during their training. However, parts of the training which relied on overheads or e-learning were felt to have little impact for recruits. These, together with sessions on policy and process, were felt by the recruits to be motivated by providing

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operational assurance rather than a belief that they would result in meaningful and enduring learning, particularly in relation to attitudes and emotions.

Affective learning in the OFP: discussion Overall, the content of the training was orientated primarily towards the operational and security features of the role of an Operations Officer, rather than the development of attitudes, beliefs and values associated with supporting people in custody. However, affective learning was not neglected, and focus groups revealed affective learning had occurred for the recruits during their six-week training. The overall emphasis within the training on operational task and process is perhaps understandable given the more security-focused nature of an Operations Officer role within the SPS, and the fact that prisons environments will attend to safety and security before it can progress to the provision of care and support. However, as discussed earlier, officers’ induction training must not neglect affective learning for a number of important reasons. First, attending to attitudes and values will profoundly affect the professional behaviours which ensue (Neuman and Forsyth, 2008); the enactment of even the most ‘neutral’ policies, tasks and processes will be shaped by the attitudes, beliefs and emotions of the groups and individuals in question. Second, prison officers are required to care in the contested emotional area of crime and punishment (Tait, 2008), and they must use judgement and exercise discretion according to a set of moral principles and an ethical code (Liebling et al., 2010). Even though people in the Operations Officer role may have less engagement with people in custody than in the promoted Residential Officer role, the need for them to demonstrate care and compassion for those in custody is not in the slightest diminished. Third, learning for and at work should change not only the learner, but also the wider working environment (Hager, 2004). New recruits are the ‘new blood’ of the organisation, and they have a role in affecting change in the organisation rather than assimilating to the existing cultural norm. Affective learning in induction training which attends to attitudes, beliefs and values will have a crucial role in enabling this. As argued earlier, officers must have the ‘appropriate attitudes as well as conduct’ (Liebling, 2011: 486), attributes developed in the affective domain of learning. Learning in the OFP attempts to develop all three domains of learning identified by Bloom and his colleagues, though the knowledge and skills-based domains dominate the curriculum. Nonetheless, certain topics and learning approaches did affect the recruits’ attitudes and beliefs around imprisonment and the role of a prison officer, though other areas of the training were not experienced by the recruits as successful at this task. The extent to which the affective learning during OFP training endures after recruits have left the SPS College will depend on many factors, including, primarily, the external professional environment and requirement and support for ongoing CPD and reflection throughout professional life.

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An evaluation of the SPS induction training for new recruits certainly reveals it to be enlightening in comparison with the degrading and humiliating officer training in the prison service in England and Wales described by Crawley (2004) in the late 1990s, and more attuned to the aspects of the role which do not relate solely to security than in the training described by Arnolt (2008) in the mid 2000s. However, elements of the OFP remain rooted in learning operational tasks which would be better learnt in the workplace, leaving time in the classroom to discuss issues relating to the beliefs, attitudes and values associated with the role. Although it is unrealistic to expect profound learning to occur in a six-week induction training course, embedding reflection throughout the whole programme and introducing formative and summative assessments which measure affective learning would support greater learning in this domain. Beyond the OFP, creating meaningful learning structures in the workplace which ensure that learning will continue upon completion of the OFP is also crucial. These could include mandated CPD, regular reflective practice and robust ways of addressing behaviours in the workplace which may not be aligned to the values of the SPS.

Conclusion Integrating affective learning into professional learning in prison officer induction training is not straightforward. The value of developing attitudes beliefs and values alongside knowledge and skills in a limited period of time of learning, may be difficult to see for an organisation which requires assurances in competencies based to a large degree on tasks and processes. Examining personal attitudes and beliefs, not least those relating to the emotive subject of crime and punishment, must take place in a way which balances what the organisation requires (belief in the organisational values), with a process which allows individuals to confront their own values and to be prepared to reconsider them when necessary. This is especially difficult when training does not provide the opportunity for these values to be expressed into professional behaviours, and when there are no assessment strategies which explicitly measure this. The correct value base for prison officers is central given the importance of the attitudes through which discretion is exercised in custodial settings, and the centrality of care, alongside the ability to promote safety and manage risk. As Crawley (2004) observes, organisations are emotional places: they ‘encapsulate[s] the range of human feelings – the loves, hatreds, fears, compassions, frustrations, joys, guilt and envies – that develop over time wherever any social group interacts’ (Noon and Blyton, quoted in Crawley, 2004: 43). The intensity of the prison environment, combined with the emotive nature of crime, punishment and reintegration, mean the emotional component of an officer’s work must become more central to their learning.

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References Arnold, H. (2008). The Experience of Prison Officer Training. In Bennett, J., Crewe, B. and Wahidin, A. (eds.) Understanding Prison Staff. Cullompton: Willan, pp. 339–418. Bennett, J., Crewe, B. and Wahidin, A. (2008). Understanding Prison Staff. Cullumpton: Willan. Bloom, B., Engelhart, M., Furst, E., Hill,W. and Krathwohl, D. (1956). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives: The Classification of Educational Goals: Handbook I: Cognitive Domain. New York: Longman. Cate, T. and De Haes, J. (2000). Summative assessment of medical students in the affective domain. Medical Teacher, 22(1), pp. 40–43. Crawley, E. (2004). Doing Prison Work. London: Routledge. Crewe, B. and Liebling, A. (2017). Reconfiguring Penal Power. In Liebling, A., Maruna, S. and McAra, L. (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of Criminology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cruess, R. and Cruess, S. (2006). Teaching professionalism: General principles. Medical Teacher, 28(3), pp. 205–208. Hager, P. (2004). Lifelong learning in the workplace? Challenges and issues. Journal of Workplace Learning, 16(1/2). Hauenstein, A. D. (1998). A Conceptual Framework for Educational Objectives: A Holistic Approach to Traditional Taxonomies. Lanham: University Press of America. Hay, W. and Sparks, R. (1991). What is a prison officer? Prison Service Journal, Spring, 2–7. Helyer, R. (2016). Introduction. In Helyer, R. (ed.) Facilitating Work-Based Learning: A Handbook for Tutors. London: Palgrave MacMillan, pp. 1–12. Krathwohl, D., Bloom, B. and Masia, B. (1956). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives: The Classification of Educational Goals: Handbook II: Affective Domain. New York, NY: David McKay Company. Liebling, A. (2011). Distinctions and distinctiveness in the work of prison officers: Legitimacy and authority revisited. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), pp. 484–499. Liebling, A., Price, D. and Shefer, G. (2010). The Prison Officer. London: Routledge. McAra, L. (2017). Can criminologists change the world? Critical reflections on the politics, performance and effects of Criminal Justice. British Journal of Criminology, 57(4), pp. 767–788. Morrison, K. and Sparks, R. (2015). Research, Knowledge and Criminal Justice Policy: The Scottish Experience. In Croall, H., Mooney, G. and Munro, M. (eds.) Crime, Justice and Society in Scotland. London: Routledge, pp. 30–44. Neumann, J. and Forsyth, D. (2008). Teaching in the affective domain for institutional values. Journal of Continuing Education in Nursing, 39(6), pp. 248–252. Reeves, M. F. (1990). An application of Bloom’s taxonomy to the teaching of business ethics. Journal of Business Ethics, 9(7), pp. 609–616. Schön, D. (1987). Educating the Reflective Practitioner: Toward a New Design for Teaching and Learning in the Professions. San-Franscisco: Jossey-Bass. Scottish Prison Service. (2013). Organisational Review: Unlocking Potential, Transforming Lives. Edinburgh: HMSO. Scottish Prison Service. (2016). Value Proposition. Edinburgh: HMSO. Scottish Prison Service. (2017a). The role of a prison officer [website].At: www.sps.gov.uk/Careers/ OpportunitiesintheSPS/The-Role-of-a-Prison-Officer.aspx. Accessed October 2017. Scottish Prison Service. (2017b). Our vision, mission and values [website]. At: www.sps.gov. uk/Careers/WorkingfortheSPS/Our-Vision-Mission-and-Values.aspx. Accessed October 2017.

168  Katrina Morrison Scottish Prison Service. (2017c). Behavioural competency framework [website]. At: www.sps.gov. uk/Careers/WorkingfortheSPS/Behavioural-Competency-Framework.aspx. Accessed October 2017. Sullivan, W. M. (2005). Work and Integrity: The Crisis and Promise of Professionalism in North America (2nd edn.). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Tait, S. (2008). Care and the prison officer: Beyond ‘turnkeys’ and ‘carebears’. Prison Service Journal, 180, pp. 3–11. Tait, S. (2011). A typology of prison officer approaches to care. European Journal of Criminology, 8(6), pp. 440–454. Whitecross, R. (2016). Teaching legal professionalism: A comparative study of teaching professional values and lessons for legal education. Journal of Commonwealth Law and Legal Education, 11(1), p. 23. Wood, T. (2009). Assessment not only drives learning, it may also help learning. Medical Education, 43, pp. 5–6.

Appendix

Focus group interview schedules

1) Start of OFP focus group •

First week in establishments 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

What was your overall impression of this time? What were you shown? What do you think will stick with you? Did anything surprise you? What did you hear about the College and the OFP? Have your expectations about the role changed? What narratives did you hear about the role in this time? If you know people already in the service, what narratives around the role have you heard?

• Expectations 1 What are your expectations about your job as a prison officer? 2 What do you expect from the OFP? 3 What are you most/least looking forward to in the OFP?

2) Conclusion of OFP focus group • OFP 1 OFP – what have you enjoyed, what has challenged, what will endure? 2 OFP – which did you enjoy the least? •

Perceptions and beliefs 1 Have your attitudes towards people in custody and imprisonment changed over the OFP? 2 Has your attitude towards the role changed? 3 Have your existing views been challenged? What was this experience like?

Chapter 10

The journey from healthcare assistant to assistant practitioner Working and learning Claire Thurgate

Introduction This chapter, based on findings from my PhD, considers the development of an emerging concept framework to describe an effective journey for those who work and learn. Although the concept of work-based learning is not new within healthcare education, since pre-qualifying professionals undertake a range of work placements, the uniqueness of this chapter is understanding the experiences of those who complete a programme of learning which focuses on the needs of the workplace and role development while remaining at work. The National Health Service (NHS), as with other global health systems, is being challenged to make cost savings (£22 billion by 2020 [Addicott, Maguire, Honeyman and Jabbal, 2015]), to refocus care delivery and review skill mix to meet the needs of the next decade (Thurgate, MacGregor and O’Keefe, 2010). At the same time as needing to improve quality and outcome (Department of Health, 2010), nursing became an all-degree profession (NMC, 2010), the current workforce was ageing and there were fewer school leavers entering the profession (Council of Deans, 2017). To address these workforce changes new ways of working were required (Goodwin et al., 2011) and roles needed to be refocused to patient care pathways with identified boundaries, competency and accountability (Macleod Clark, 2007). The introduction of the Assistant Practitioner (AP) role (Mullen, 2003) and, more recently, the Nursing Associate (NA) are ways in which NHS Trusts have addressed workforce challenges. Both roles provide the non-registered workforce with the appropriate knowledge and skills to support service redesign while supporting recruitment and retention worries across the health and care workforce. As the first NAs commenced training in January 2017 the chapter focuses on the AP role which was developed in the North West of England in the early 2000s. Core standards for the AP (Skills for Health, 2009) outline that those capable of undertaking the role are recruited to a trainee post and while in employment complete an appropriate programme of study, which must be at least Level 5 on the Qualification and Credit Framework (for example, Foundation Degree [FD]). A FD allows the fusion of academic and vocational paths

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in a Higher Education (HE) qualification, and, crucially, involves the employer in developing and delivering the initiative. With a shift in the NHS to employer-led workforce development there was a broad need to understand the context of the lived experience of those undertaking a work-based learning programme while remaining at work so that a conceptual framework for describing an effective journey could be developed. Understanding these experiences would allow educationalists and workforce leads to develop work-based learning programmes and new roles, which considered not only the accumulation of knowledge and skills but also the associated change in attitude required to work at a higher level. This is particularly poignant in the UK where an apprentice levy of 0.5% on all pay bills over £3 million (which can be redeemed for apprentice training only) was introduced in April 2017, including degree apprentices as a route for professional training. From a philosophical perspective, work-based learning has an interdependency of knowing and doing (Dewey, 1938; Sennett, 2008) as the learner is making sense of their context through active participation (Tennant, 2004). Consequently, pedagogical approaches must incorporate experience and reflection in relation to learning (Dewey, 1938) so that the knowledge which arises is focused on the individual’s interest and associated activity to guide knowledge constitution in different contexts (Habermas, 1972). Defining work-based learning is recognised as problematic (Connor, 2005) with a clear definition proving to be elusive (Owens and Rutherford, 2007). Consequently, as the programme of learning was based in university for those in paid employment (Garenett, Costley and Workman, 2009) definition of work-based learning was utilised: A learning process which focuses University level critical thinking upon work, (paid or unpaid) in order to facilitate the recognition, acquisition and application of individual and collective knowledge, skills and abilities, to achieve specific outcomes of significance to the learner, their work and the University. (Garenett, Costley and Workman, 2009, p. 4) The philosophical assumption and theoretical perspective inherent to this study, which focuses on understanding an individual’s experience at a particular time and space, will be considered in the next section, where the study’s design will also be discussed. However, not wanting to pre-determine the outcome of the interpretations and wanting to understand the lived experience inductively, an extensive and systematic review of the literature was not undertaken in advance of the study. The discussion, based on the emerging framework which evolved from a two-stage analysis (interpretative and concept) will be considered in light of relevant literature. This approach allowed the concept of an effective journey to be viewed with proportion and clarity

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within the larger whole: a fusion of horizons (Gadamer, 1989). Drawing on existing theoretical knowledge and concepts enriched the thematic account that had arisen from the areas of understanding (Larkin, Watts and Clifton, 2006) and gave rise to an emerging conceptual framework for describing an effective journey.

Methodology and findings The study was based on the philosophical assumption of understanding an individual’s experience at a particular time and space as they sought to understand and give meaning to certain events (Creswell, 2009). Constructivism (Lincoln and Guba, 1985) allows understandings of the experience related to individual perspectives to be constructed, enabling preconceptions to be challenged, refined or discontinued (Heidegger, 1927/1962). The theoretical perspective inherent to constructivism and ultimately the lived experience is phenomenology (the study of the human experience) and hermeneutics (the practice of interpretation). Husserl (1970), a German philosopher, focused on the application of phenomenology as he attempted to address the epistemological question ‘how do we know?’ He wanted to find a means by which someone could accurately understand their own experience of a given phenomenon so that they are able to identify the essential qualities of that experience. Husserl (1970) believed there was a need to adopt a phenomenological attitude, which requires a reflexive move as our gaze is turned from objects in the world and directed inward, towards our perception of these objects. The individual must step outside of the experience. Heidegger’s (1927/1962) work, in contrast, focused on the ontological question of existence itself: what does it mean to be a person and how is the world intelligible to us? He moved away from Husserl’s transcendental phenomenology and set out the beginnings for existential phenomenology through addressing the central topics of human existence: truth, language, human nature and foundations of knowledge. Consequently, as this study was an exploration of the lived experience, Heidegger’s philosophical hermeneutic phenomenology (interpretative phenomenology) was deemed appropriate as hermeneutics goes beyond the description of core concepts to look for meanings (Lopez and Willis, 2004), as opposed to what is consciously known (Flood, 2010). While all studies need to justify the research design, this is vital when using hermeneutic phenomenology as no specific design underpins this philosophy. Phenomenological researchers must acknowledge that they are situatedin-the-world (Heidegger, 1927/1962) and have a background and familiarity which is both shared by all but also an individual interpretation of the world that has evolved from personal history and culture. A reflection on fore-structure, the aspects of interpretation that have occurred before the moment of

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interpretation, was undertaken prior to data collection to counteract any such oversight and enhance transparency of the research process. Fore-structure was used as a vehicle through which values, beliefs and assumptions in relation to the phenomena being studied were made explicit. These were the taken-for-granted aspects which remain in the background but against which all interpretation needs to be understood. To ensure that the study remained true to a hermeneutic philosophy and not wanting to pre-determine the outcome of the interpretations and wanting to understand the lived experience inductively an extensive and systematic review of the literature was not undertaken in advance of the study, an approach supported by Strauss and Corbin: ‘We do not want to be so steeped in the literature as to be constrained and even stifled in terms of creative knowledge by our knowledge of it’ (Strauss and Corbin, 1990: 50). Prior to commencing the study, ethical approval was granted by the National Research Ethics Committee and permission to proceed was gained from the NHS Trust. Participants were selected from one NHS acute Trust in the South East of England, and were informed of the purpose of the study. Anonymity and confidentiality were ensured through the allocation of unique numbers following receipt of a signed consent form agreeing to participate. Sampling, based on inclusion criteria (they worked as a Trainee Assistant Practitioner (TAP) in the Trust and commenced their journey in the autumn the study began) resulted in a heterogeneous group of eight TAPs to allow a detailed case-by-case analysis. To contextualise experiences, TAPs’ workplace mentors and managers were interviewed. All data were stored in accordance with the Data Protection Acts (Home Office, 2003). Data were collected during individual conversational interviews at three stages during the two-year FD, with each stage being considered as a separate part of the whole (Table 10.1). This ensured that Heidegger’s (1927/1962) concept of time, space and context remained pivotal in understanding the participants’ experience. An interview guide provided shape to the interview and outlined the guiding questions.

Table 10.1  Participants at each stage Stage

When

TAPs

Ward managers

Workplace mentors

1

Four months after commencing the FD Sixteen months after commencing the FD Six months after completing the FD

8

4

7

4

7

2 3

8 8

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Interviews were tape-recorded and transcribed verbatim. To ensure that the phenomena was captured (Debesay, Naden and Slettebo, 2008) each transcription was verified by a colleague rather than returned to the participant to prevent contradictions (Sandelowski, 1993). Consequently, the study’s findings, not transcripts, were shared with participants. As a philosophy, rather than a methodology, there was no prescribed method of analysis. Consequently, the fundamentals of Smith, Flowers and Larkin’s (2009) heuristic framework allowed reflective engagement with each participant’s data. This ensured that interpretative analysis was hinged on human action being considered inherently meaningful or as Schwandt (2003) states ‘understanding is interpretation’ (Schwandt, 2003: 301). As the action is not an ‘object out there’ but ‘is negotiated mutually in the act of interpretation; it is not simply discovered’ (Schwandt, 203: 302). Hence, meaning is the understanding created by the interface of perceiver knowledge with research data. Formal analysis took place when what had been recorded as text was transcribed and studied in-depth (Smith and Osborn, 2003), focusing on ‘the thing it-self ’. The next step, note taking, followed a stepped process using three different focuses: 1 Descriptive comments; 2 Linguistic comments; 3 Conceptual comments. Notes were transformed into specific phrases to capture the essence. Emergent themes were drawn together to identify the most interesting and important aspect of the participant’s experience enabling the systematic identification of the main (super-ordinate) themes within and across groups. As the sample size was more than six, it fell into Smith et al.’s (2009) large-sample category, meaning that an emergent theme was recurrent if it emerged in half or more of the individual stakeholder group. This was repeated for the stage two and three interviews before the emergent themes and super-ordinate themes were synthesised to inform the over-arching super-ordinate themes. As formal analysis began it was apparent that participants were at different stages in the journey, for example TAP 7 ‘could see no change’ while TAP 9 recognised that they were ‘thinking differently’. The TAPs’ language conveyed the scale of their experience; for example TAP 1 used descriptive terms such as ‘thrown-in’ and ‘shock to the system’ in a sentence to describe the transition to being a TAP. TAP 2, in contrast, used such terms as being ‘at the coal face’ on more than one occasion to reiterate why they had chosen to become an AP as they perceived this route enabled them to engage in patient care. Moving from interview transcripts emergent themes and connections were identified and other perspectives were considered. Through ‘putting like with like’ (Smith et al., 2009) the clusters were clarified: for example, there were a series of emergent themes around becoming a TAP, the journey to being a

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TAP and working as an Health Care Assistant (HCA). These were grouped under the super-ordinate theme of becoming a TAP. As different emergent themes arose they were added to the original table. Ultimately themes were not being enriched and evidence of saturation or adequacy of research data (Lincoln and Guba, 1985) appeared to have been achieved. The final stage of analysis involved looking for patterns across participants’ data. Initially, patterns were identified within each individual stakeholder group before identifying patterns across stakeholder groups. Emergent and super-ordinate themes were considered from other perspectives, it was apparent TAPs were letting go of the known – the known HCA entity with recognised knowledge, skills and clear role boundaries – and entering the unknown world of the TAP, a role whose knowledge, skills and boundaries were not clearly understood. On completion of this stage, stakeholders’ emergent themes were added to the TAPs’ superordinate themes (this is illustrated in Appendix 10.1). As with the first interview stage, formal analyses of the second interview stage demonstrated TAPs, and their colleagues, were at different stages in the journey. For example, TAP 1 perceived ‘a lack of understanding regarding the role means we are glorified HCAs’ while in contrast TAP 2 experienced ‘a change due to knowledge and staff understanding the role’. When considering the participant linguistic comments, the inter-relation between language utilised and content was identified, for example, TAP 2 used the descriptive term ‘wobbly’ and the metaphor ‘a bag of nerves’ to give meaning to how they felt at the beginning of the journey. This differed from the linguistic used during their stage one interview which focused on patient care and ‘being at the coal face’.TAP 7 used negative verbal and non-verbal language during the stage one interview to convey frustration at not developing their technical skills. Their negative language disappeared during the second interview and in contrast to TAP 1 they were able to give meaning to the positive consequences of leading their learning (‘found out things for myself and gained confidence’). TAP 9, as with their first interview, continued to use pauses and clear definition to reinforce their development: ‘do not doubt myself now unless it is something I have not done before’.TAP 9 conveyed confidence and self-belief, which had not been evident in their first interview; this was similar for TAP 3, 4 and 10. TAP 3 repeated how shyness and poor academic achievement at school were linked. Their language, in the first interview, reiterated a link between their shyness and a lack of confidence, which contrasted to the language in their second interview which was positive and demonstrated a change in self ‘more grown up, knowledgeable and enthusiastic’. Through abstraction (Smith et al., 2009) there were a series of emergent themes around ‘moving to a new ward’, ‘making sense of the TAP role’ and ‘from worker to worker and learner’. These were grouped under the superordinate theme making sense of earlier experiences when letting go of the known. A table allowed emergent themes and super-ordinate themes to be seen as a whole (Appendix 10.2 illustrates the super-ordinate themes).

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The stage three interviews took place six months after the TAPs had successfully completed the FD and had been APs for six months. This stage involved seven TAPs (TAP 3 did not achieve the FD), two matrons (two had new roles) and four mentors (three had changed wards). AP 1 had previously used language which reflected their ‘newness’ to healthcare and expressed concerns at self-directed learning rather than a focus to skills development. Throughout their final interview their language, both verbal and non-verbal, had changed. There was energy and passion; they were conscious of the importance of the environment to enable them to develop as an AP and used such words as freedom, permission, recognised as an individual, engagement, wellbeing, flourishing. From AP 1’s experience the importance of the ward culture in terms of understanding roles and supporting individual to develop was paramount. AP 7’s language demonstrated their growing spatial awareness from their first interview, which had been based on their lack of development. Their second interview gave meaning to how they had begun to evolve while their language in the third interview recognised how this development had occurred ‘support and encouragement has facilitated development’. Like AP 1, AP 7’s language recognised the role of the ward culture to enable progression ‘environment important, need manager support and buy-in’. Interestingly AP 2’s language changed during the course of the three interviews. Throughout the initial interviews AP 2’s language portrayed confidence and ownership of their personal development. In the third interview their language was reflective and honest ‘aware out of depth at the beginning’. The brashness and apparent ‘everything is all right’ attitude had disappeared. It was difficult to ascertain what caused this change, but it may have been, as AP 2 stated, that the time and space afforded by the study’s interviews enabled them to reflect on their journey. These changes may not have been recognised by AP 2 until the interview when discussions brought them to the fore. AP 4’s language changed as they journeyed from a place of not feeling confident to one of feeling confident and recognising the need to own their development: ‘I see myself as an AP, I own the role, I earned the role’. Through abstraction (Smith et al., 2009) a series of emergent themes around ‘beginning the journey’, ‘workplace support’ and ‘workplace learning’ arose. These were grouped under the super-ordinate theme making sense of earlier experiences as a TAP. A table allowed emergent themes and super-ordinate themes to be seen as a whole. Once this stage had been completed the emergent themes which arose from the stakeholders’ transcripts were added and are illustrated in Appendix 10.3. To ensure the interpretive process moved between the part and the whole of the hermeneutic circle the over-arching super-ordinate themes which gave meaning to the whole. This enabled a move away from contextual particulars towards a more universal sphere (Van Manen, 1997) as over-arching superordinate themes were identified. Abstraction was utilised to identify patterns between emergent themes so allowing super-ordinate themes to evolve by

From healthcare assistant to practitioner 177 Table 10.2  Over-arching super-ordinate and emergent themes: the whole journey Over-arching super-ordinate theme

Emergent themes

Recognising the transition from HCA to AP

• Drivers to becoming a TAP; • preparing for the TAP role; • understanding the TAP role; • behaviours of RNs and HCAs; • working as a TAP; and • role of self in the transition to TAP. • Learning in the workplace; • role of mentors; • ward teams understanding TAP role; and • wider organisation understanding TAP role. • Staff recognising AP role; and • working as an AP.

Supporting the journey

Being an AP

‘putting like with like’ (Smith et al., 2009); for example, there were a series of emergent themes around becoming an AP ‘letting go of the known’, ‘being a TAP’ and ‘being an AP’. These were grouped under the over-arching theme experiencing the journey. The over-arching super-ordinate themes moved analysis from contextual particulars towards a more universal sphere (Van Manen, 1997) as illustrated in Table 10.2. Following data analysis, a concept analysis was undertaken to clarify the concept of an effective journey. This analysis drew on Rodgers’ (1989) framework to identify the concept’s attributes, enabling factors and consequences (Appendix 10.4 provides an overview). A concept’s attributes are those factors which illustrate an effective journey from HCA to AP and needed to be represented in each application of the concept. Three clusters of attributes were identified: • Learner: adjusts, adapts and accommodates to manage the transition to a new role and recognising a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude. They understand their role in leading their own learning and is beginning to recognise an ability to problem solve and reflect in- and on-action. • Learner and mentor: the presence of a knowledgeable mentor who creates a learning environment and facilitates rather than prescribe learning and the fusion of practical, theoretical and self-regulative knowledge through critical reflection. • Workplace: a common vision and shared values and beliefs for the new role. While the clusters of attributes provide understanding of the characteristics of an effective journey from the participants’ perspectives they do not appear in isolation and require the presence of the following enabling factors:

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•

Learner: aware of their own role in learning and the role of self in leading their learning. Letting go of the known requires enthusiasm, motivation and using prior practical knowledge to recognise a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude. • Workplace culture: clear leadership facilitates the inclusion of ward staff in the development and implementation of new roles. A learning culture which provides the time and space for learning and assessments. Mentors need to be competent and knowledgeable and able to support work-based learning. Mentors need preparation and support. • Organisation: clear vision for the new role is shared and understood by the organisation. There needs to be preparation and support for those who develop and implement new roles from within. The enabling factors have been identified as influential if the attributes identified previously are to be achieved. When these enabling factors and the Table 10.3 E merging framework for describing an effective journey from HCA to AP Enabling Factors  Learner • Awareness of own role in learning; • Able to let go of the known; • Enthusiastic and motivated; • Uses practical knowledge as recognises a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude; • Understands impact of behaviour. Workplace culture • Knowledgeable mentor who is able to support work-based learning; • Support for the development and implementation of new roles. Organisation • Preparation and support for those developing and implementing new roles from within.

  Attributes  • Learner manages transition through adjusting, adapting and accommodating to new role. • Learner recognises greater responsibility through a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude. • Learner and mentor co-create new knowledge. • Workplace supports work-based learning and new role development.

 Consequences Learner • Active learner able to lead their learning in the workplace; • Self-efficacy and enhanced cognitive ability in new role. Workplace • New role understood in the workplace. Organisation • Assured safe, effective evidence-based care.

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attributes of an effective journey are present a number of suggested consequences and outcomes would be expected: Active learner leads their own learning in the workplace, self-efficacy and enhanced cognitive ability in new role: learners are recognised as a new role as they demonstrate a change in behaviour, knowledge, skills and attitude. They have changed their identity. • New role recognised in the workplace: ward staff recognise a change in behaviour as APs deliver safe, effective evidence-based care. • Assured safe, effective evidence-based care: APs are able to consider the whole, think differently and problem solve based on evidence. •

An emerging framework for describing an effective journey from HCA to AP arose from the attributes, enabling factors and expected consequences and is presented in Table 10.3. Appendix 10.5 provides an overview of the attributes, enabling factors and expected consequences descriptors.

Discussion This section discusses the enabling factors from the emerging framework, discussed earlier, with reference to relevant literature in order to verify the attributes. Drawing on theoretical knowledge and concepts enriched the thematic accounts and gave rise to an emerging concept framework to describe an effective journey from HCA to AP. Learner Letting go of the known

With no current research regarding the transition from HCA to AP, Duchscher’s (2009, 2015) work on professional role transition for Registered Nurses (RNs) provided a conceptual framework from the perspective of those working in a healthcare setting. Ducshcher (2009) found that the initial stages of the transition process were the most immediate, dramatic and acute as new RNs experienced transition shock. TAPs likewise encountered ‘reality shock’ as they began to understand the demands of becoming a worker and learner. Duchscher’s (2009) Transition Shock Model© outlines the change in responsibilities, knowledge, roles and relationships alongside feelings of loss, doubt, confusion and disorientation. In contrast TAPs recognised that being prepared, leading their learning, knowledgeable mentors and team behaviours enabled them to let go of the known. For TAPs, as work-based learners, the focus of their concern was not developing leadership skills, professional culture or life changes but the here and now, what was unknown and what they were unprepared for.

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According to Duchscher (2015) new RNs journeyed through Stages of Transition© – doing, being and knowing – which resonates with the TAPs’ journey. The first stage, doing, which lasts three to four months involves adjusting, adapting and accommodating to the realities of the new role; there is little energy or time to move from here and now as their shock state requires them to survive without revealing feelings of anxiety or self-perceived incompetence. TAPs ‘shock’ state focused on a lack of understanding of the role and learning opportunities in the workplace. The second stage, being, is characterised by advancement in thinking, knowledge level and skill competency and reflects the TAPs experience. The final stage, knowing, focuses on achieving separateness from the practitioners around them and uniting with their community of professional in their own right. Despite not having a community of professionals to join, TAPs were able to let go of being a HCA. Similar to Duchscher’s (2009, 2015) work, TAPs’ transition was complex and unique. Support and preparation is needed so individuals and teams understand the process of transition rather than ‘confusing and doubt-ridden chaos’ (Duchscher, 2009). Work-based learning

No study has focused on the transition to working and learning which incorporates work-based learning and the lived experience. TAPs made sense of the need to understand work-based learning to give meaning to ‘how we act within the “taken for granted” context’ (Gibbs, 2013: 148). They required self-understanding, or currere (Gibbs, 2013), in relation to becoming a professional so that they were able to recognise identity (Heidegger, 1927/1962) and regain a sense of equilibrium (Merleau-Ponty, 1962). TAPs were aware that when they led their learning they were able to question and take action (Gibbs, 2013), ‘to do and learn’ (Dewey, 1938: 19). Recognising that the workplace was a legitimate site of learning contributed to the TAPs ability to reflect in- and on-action (Schön, 1983). They questioned their tacit understanding and made new sense of the situation as they exhibited knowledge and technical competence during interaction with service users (Schön, 1983).They were, as Eraut (1994) describes, able to demonstrate and recognise a change in practice through putting their learning into action in the workplace as they unlearnt previous practice and routines and learnt from experience. TAPs recognised that when they were able to fuse new theoretical knowledge with practical knowledge they became confident: they were able to explain and apply their knowledge (Entwistle and Entwistle, 1991) and demonstrate the appropriate attitude (Gonzi, Hager and Athanasou, 1993). Being able to learn how to learn in the context of the workplace required consent to transform and engage with a disorientating experience (Poutiatine, 2009).

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A change in self

According to Bandura’s social cognitive theory (Bandura, 1986) and theory of behaviour change (Bandura, 1977), those low in self-belief focus on their deficiencies and view situations as more difficult than they are in reality. Similarly, TAPs who perceived they had low self-belief lacked self-confidence and were unable to recognise a change in self. While much has been written about knowledge acquisition (Rolfe, 1996, 1998) and developing as a professional (Eraut, 1994) there is a lack of research related to how successful work-based learning contributes to enhanced self-belief. The stage at which TAPs recognised a change in self was similar to Bandura’s (1977) four sources of efficacy beliefs which encompassed personal mastery, vicarious experience, verbal persuasion and emotional arousal.TAPs achieved the first source, personal mastery, when they recognised that academic and workplace success enhanced their self-confidence and increased their responsibility in the workplace.These changes, Bandura (1977) suggests, resulted from enhanced coping mechanisms. Bandura’s (1977) second source advocates that vicarious experience contributes to an individual’s self-efficacy as they learn through observation of modelling. Despite an absence of role models, TAPs achieved a change in self. Bandura’s (1977) third source, verbal persuasion, relies on people being led, through suggestion, into believing that they can cope successfully. For TAPs it was an awareness of working differently rather than verbal persuasion which enabled their transformation. Emotional arousal, fourth source, requires an individual to recognise that they are less vulnerable than they previously thought and subsequently are less likely to generate frightening thoughts in unknown situations. TAPs were aware their confidence had increased and the fear of the unknown had subsided as they acknowledged the fusion of theory and practice and received more responsibility. This independent performance brought further success and reinforced expectations of self-efficacy. Coping required TAPs to control the situation either through altering the environment, changing the meaning of the situation and/or managing their emotions and behaviours. Workplace culture Knowledgeable mentor

The term and concept of a mentor, based on the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) (2008) standards to support learning and assessment in practice, was chosen to identify qualified staff who would support and assess the TAPs’ work-based learning. To understand the role, mentors must demonstrate competency in establishing effective working relationships, facilitating learning; assessment and evaluation, and creating a learning environment through evidence-based practice and leadership (NMC, 2008).

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Despite the NMC (2008) standards stating mentors must facilitate learning through critical reflection – to do and be – the nursing literature focuses on the mentor’s role in creating learning opportunities (Myall, Levett-Jones and Lathlean, 2008), as a source of support (Myall et al., 2008), to develop craft and technical knowledge (Spouse, 2001), and to facilitate socialisation (Ousey, 2009). Wareing’s (2012) phenomenological study on theories of work-based learning and the lived experience of the TAP and mentor found that the mentor’s role was to support the TAP to learn to learn and to develop knowledge and clinical skills. In contrast, findings from this study demonstrate that learning in the workplace is not only related to enhanced knowledge and skills but the ability to engage in double-loop learning (Schein, 2010), problem solving, reflection and learning from experience (Argyis and Schön, 1974; Kolb and Kolb, 2009) through the fusion of theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge. The nursing literature relates to the content of learning through the sharing of knowledge and skills. In contrast, this study considered the process of learning: how knowledge is transformed through experience and the formation of reflection and action (Kolb and Kolb, 2009). From the TAPs’ perspective, it appeared that mentors had the skills to support and assess the content of learning but required skills to enable the process of learning. Mentors needed to understand the attitudes, beliefs and assumptions appropriate to the role (Myall et al., 2008) and the process of transformational learning in the workplace. Mentors must be able to support TAPs to develop skills of self-awareness, description, critical analysis, synthesis, evaluation (Atkins and Murphy, 1993), the process of work-based learning and being a reflective practitioner. Mentors must understand work-based learning so that they can recognise the personal consequences of letting go of a known identity and understand the need to learn how to learn and enable self-directed learning. Mentoring those who work and learn is challenging as mentors need to move from technical expert with a tacit understanding (Schön, 1987) to an expert who is able to support individuals to fuse theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge. Manley, Titchen and Hardy’s (2009) concept analysis of work-based learning in the context of healthcare education and practice identifies the skilled facilitator as a pivotal attribute to effective work-based learning and an individual’s transformation. Many of the attributes of a skilled facilitator (Manley et al., 2009) reflect the TAPs’ perceptions of a knowledgeable mentor. Facilitation would allow TAPs to make sense of the process of learning, to co-create new knowledge based on local need through the social construction of learning (Billett, 2002), to transform themselves and to deliver safe, effective care. Mentors with facilitator skills would enable TAPs to identify their learning needs, guide processes, encourage critical thinking and assess achievement of learning as opposed to a mentor who provides feedback and guidance on a performance (Garbett and McCormack, 2004). Facilitation and its emphasis on reflective discourse and action would support the TAPs’ transformation.

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The literature regarding facilitation and mentoring does not consider the individual’s self-efficacy and the personal consequences of being a worker and learner. Based on the study’s findings, those who support learning in the workplace need to understand the impact of becoming a worker and learner, the transition from known to unknown, coping behaviours and the ability to learn how to learn. This requires a shift in the process of mentoring from one structured on a theoretical concept of learning, teaching and assessment (Ellerbe and Regen, 2012) to one which incorporates the facilitation of reflection and action and an understanding of the personal journey to learning. Effective workplace culture

TAPs recognised that shared values and beliefs – a common vision – facilitated inclusivity and collaboration (Calabrese, Cohen and Miller, 2013) and supported their development. Manley, Sanders, Cardiff and Webster’s (2011) concept analysis of an effective healthcare culture has relevance to this study. From Manley et al (2011) concept analysis, where attribute one (a consistent set of shared values) was present, the role developed in a timely manner. The second attribute (realising and experiencing a shared vision and mission with individual and collective responsibility) was similar to the TAPs’ perception that a shared and common vision enabled an effective journey. Manley et al.’s (2011) third attribute states that adaptability, innovation and creativity maintain workplace effectiveness. Staff understanding the role recognised that it was a creative solution to the provision of safe, effective care. The fourth attribute advocates that change must be purposeful, enable flexibility and continuous adaptation is evaluated. Understanding and evaluating the AP role by managers ensured it was adapting to changing patient needs. Manley et al.’s (2011) fifth attribute requires specific structures, processes and patterns of behaviour to implement values which would provide structured opportunities to make sense of the TAPs’ journey. According to Manley et al. (2011), individual enablers are the presence of transformational leadership, skilled facilitation and role clarity, and these link to the APs’ perception that leadership, knowledgeable mentors and understanding their role enabled being an AP.This study found that the attribute of self and the ability to recognise the role of self in work-based learning enabled an effective journey. Organisational enablers are flattened and transparent management, an enabling approach to leadership and decision-making, organisational readiness, and a supportive human resources department (Manley et al., 2011). APs considered transparent management, leadership and organisational readiness. Manley et al.’s (2009) concept analysis of work-based learning advocates that the presence of a workplace learning culture enabled a learning philosophy and the successful implementation of work-based learning, which was similar to the TAPs’ perception. Manley et al. (2009) identify the need for employer and workplace commitment to learning at and from work. The organisational

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culture must be willing to accept challenge and innovation; practitioners facilitate work-based learning and value reflection; there is a freedome to experiment; everyone is considered expert at something, and innovation and change is evaluated. Organisation

Organisationally, there was a clear vision for the AP role which needed to be communicated so beliefs were transformed into collective beliefs through values (Schein, 2010) and taken-for-granted assumptions made conscious (Kitson, 2001). This would allow managers and mentors to be involved and understand the role and imminence of the change (Rafferty and Griffin, 2006). Based on Schein’s (2010) work on organisational culture, a leader who facilitates a learning culture must possess five characteristics: a shared perception and insight to enable a common vision, motivation to challenge the culture, emotional strength, ability to change cultural assumptions through the articulation of new values, and the ability to create involvement and participation. The effective introduction of new roles requires a participatory approach (Schein, 2010) so that the new, creative role is able to emerge and workplace leaders are able to develop (Ewens, 2003) and flourish as they learn from their experience (Sofarelli and Brown, 1998). Manley et al.’s (2011) concept of an enabling workplace culture advocates that a transformational leader enables an effective workplace culture by immediate supervisors (Block, 2003) rather than more distant leaders (Stordeur, Vandenberghe and D’hoore, 2000) to achieve organisational commitment. The behaviours of a transformational leader encompass acting with moral intent; using sociological, psychological and learning theories; and multiple intelligences and teaching/learning skills to ensure that change is facilitated rather than managed (Manley et al., 2011). APs recognised that the presence of inclusive and participatory behaviours created a positive response and a culture which enabled an effective journey and achievement of the organisational goal (Greco, Laschinger and Wong, 2006). Although not considered in this study, there is a need for those who introduce new roles and work-based learning to have the opportunity to explore their own effectiveness and make sense of how their espoused values, beliefs and assumptions contribute to an effective culture. Table 10.4 outlines the emerging conceptual framework which arose when the study’s findings were considered in light of relevant literature. Fusing the emerging framework with theoretical knowledge and concepts brought to the fore the uniqueness of the study in relation to understanding the experience of those who transition to AP and in particular those who work and learn: there is a need to understand the process of learning. Learners need the ability to adapt, adjust and accommodate to the new role and understand how their behaviours are interpreted by others.

From healthcare assistant to practitioner 185 Table 10.4 Emerging concept framework for describing an effective journey from HCA to AP Enabling factors  Learner’s awareness of role in learning; Learner’s knowledge of self, practical knowledge, skills and attitude; Learner is prepared for transition and new role. Mentor is knowledgeable and understands the process of transformational learning in the workplace. Workplace culture supports the development and implementation of new role.

  Attributes  

  Consequences

Learner engages in mindful transformative learning experience. Learner manages transition process through adjusting, adapting and accommodating to new role. Learner/mentor relationship uses the workplace as the main resource for learning. Workplace accommodates and learns from the development and implementation of new roles.

Learner Self-sufficient learner who can reflect on learning and change; Self-efficacy and professional identity for new role. Workplace Learner and mentor co-create new knowledge and contribute to deliver safe, effective evidencebased care. Organisations Ongoing support for role innovation and career framework.

The clusters of attributes which arose when the findings were considered with the literature are as follows. •

•

•

Learner: engages in mindful transformational learning and uses the workplace as the main resource for learning. They develop self-awareness and the ability to lead their learning as they build on prior practical knowledge. Problem solving and fusing theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge allows them to adjust, adapt and accommodate to the new role. Learners live and work with the knowledge, beliefs, values and assumptions of the new role and develop self-confidence. Learner/mentor: the learner/mentor relationship use the workplace is the main resource for learning. The mentor creates a learning environment through facilitation. Mentors are able to assess the knowledge, skills and behaviour of the learner in the workplace and provide effective feedback to enhance transformational learning. Workplace: this includes the presence of a shared vision, values and beliefs and formal systems to evaluate role effectiveness and practice transformation. A learning culture enables learners to lead their learning and engage in work-based learning as they combine informal, incidental, experiential and communal features of learning.

186  Claire Thurgate

Considering the enabling factors in light of the literature allowed the study’s findings to be enriched. The enabling factors fall into three areas: Learner: needs to be prepared for the transition and consent to transform. They need to be motivated and enthusiastic and recognise that they are experiencing reality shock as they let go of the known. To enable an effective transition requires the learner to have prior practical knowledge and an understanding of the new role so that they are able to maintain the knowledge, beliefs, values and assumption of the role. They need to understand the rules, clarity and structure related to being a worker and learner. • Mentor: need to be prepared, understand transformational learning and work-based learning, and create a learning environment. • Workplace: the ward team needs to understand and contribute to the development of the new role and transformational leadership needs to be present. The workplace needs to provide a learning culture. •

As with the enabling factors, the expected consequences were further developed through consideration in light of theoretical knowledge and concepts. The expected consequences of an effective journey are as follows. Learner: self-efficacy and professional identity for new role as individuals demonstrate the appropriate attitude, self-confidence and resilience. They are self-sufficient learners able to reflect on change and put their learning into action. • Workplace: learner and mentor co-create new knowledge and contribute to deliver safe, effective evidence-based care. Learners are able to problem solve and learn from experiences as they fuse theoretical, practical and selfregulative knowledge. • Organisation: ongoing support for role innovation provides a creative solution to the provision of safe, effective evidence-based care and a career framework for HCAs. •

The study’s unique contribution is the fusion of horizons (Gadamer, 1989) when the part of the journey (understanding the lived experience of those who transitions to new roles while remaining in the workplace) was considered in light of the relevant literature to make a new whole – an emerging conceptual framework for describing an effective journey.

Conclusion Whilst much is known about the process of transition, self-efficacy, identity, skills acquisition, effective workplace culture, mentoring and facilitation, transformational leadership and the learning environment, the knowledge arising from this study offers fresh descriptions and understanding of those who undertake

From healthcare assistant to practitioner 187

role development while remaining in their place of work. It provides insights into the proposed personal, workplace and organisation consequences of transitioning to a new role and the attributes and enabling factors of an effective journey which cannot be considered in isolation – they influence each other. The individual consequence of an effective journey is a self-sufficient learner who can reflect on learning and change. This change in self is achieved as individuals develop coping strategies to cope with the concept of ‘reality shock’ and the chaos and unknown of becoming a worker and learner. As active learners they are able to lead their learning, question and take action, and make sense of their learning. They are able to act and think differently. They have learnt to fuse theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge. For the individual the consequence of this transformational learning and demonstrable change in self is improved self-efficacy and professional identity for the new role. They have increased self-confidence and self-belief. For the workplace, the consequence of an effective journey is that learner and mentor co-create new knowledge to deliver safe, effective evidence-based care. The workplace is the main resource for learning as the learner fuses theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge, and engages in critical reflection with their mentor. Mentors need to be skilled facilitators who are able to create a learning environment and provide systems for organising and co-ordinating learning activities. They need to be able to assess learner’s knowledge, skills and behaviour, and provide effective feedback. Achieving an effective culture where everyone can flourish requires organisations to have a learning readiness, and also requires the presence of the attributes and enabling factors identified by Manley et al. (2011) for workplaces. This includes shared values; shared vision and mission with individual and collective responsibility; adaptability, innovation and creativity; purposeful change driven by patient need which is evaluated; and the presence of formal systems to enable and evaluate learning. To sustain the attributes requires individual enablers, transformational leadership; skilled facilitation and role clarity as well as organisational enablers, flattened and transparent management, an enabling approach to leadership and decision-making, and an organisational readiness.

Implications The emerging concept framework for describing an effective journey, for those who work and learn, provides educationalists and workforce leads with a tool to support the implementation of new roles from within.The framework recently provided the structure for the local development and implementation of the new non-registered nursing associate role (Department of Health, 2015), which was introduced to bridge the gap between HCA and RN. Understanding the attributes, enabling factors, and consequences of working and learning allowed previous assumptions to be challenged. Those involved (managers, mentors and tutors) understood the process of transformational learning, the role of mentor

188  Claire Thurgate

as assessor of skills and facilitator of self-regulative knowledge, the importance of transformational leadership, and the need for a shared vision and mission and a culture which embraced learning for the local workforce.

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190  Claire Thurgate Mullen, C. (2003) Delivering the workforce project 2001. Greater Manchester Strategic Health Authority: Greater Manchester NHS Workforce Development Confederation. Myall, M., Levett-Jones, T., and Lathlean, J. (2008) Mentorship in contemporary practice: The experiences of nursing students and practice mentors. Journal of Clinical Nursing. 17: 1834–1842. Nursing and Midwifery Council. (2008) Standards to support learning and assessment in practice. London: NMC. Nursing and Midwifery Council. (2010) Standards for pre-registration nursing education. London: NMC. Ousey, K. (2009) Socialisation of student nurses: The role of the mentor. Learning in Health and Social Care. 8 (3): 175–184. Owens, D., and Rutherford, J. (2007) The development of workbased learning as part of post qualifying education. Industry and Higher Education. 21 (5): 70–77. Poutiatine, M. (2009) What is transformation? Nine principles toward an understanding transformational processes for transformational leadership. Journal of Transformative Education. 7 (3): 189–208. Rafferty, A., and Griffin, M. (2006) Perceptions of organisational change: A stress and coping perspective. Journal of Applied Psychology. 91 (5): 1154–1162. Rodgers, B. (1989) Concept, analysis and the development of nursing knowledge: The evolutionary cycle. Journal of Advanced Nursing. 14(4): 330–335. Rolfe, G. (1996) Closing the theory-practice gap: A new paradigm for nursing. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Rolfe, G. (1998) Expanding nursing knowledge: Understanding and researching your own practice. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Sandelowski, M. (1993) Rigor and rigor mortis: The problem of rigor in qualitative research revisited. Advances in Nursing Science. 16 (2): 1–8. Schein, E. (2010) Organisational culture and leadership (4th Ed). San-Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Schön, D. (1987) Educating the reflective practitioner. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Schön, D. (1983) The reflective practitioner: How professional think in action. New York: Basic Books. Schwandt, T. (2003) Three epistemological stances for qualitative inquiry. In N. Denzin and Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The landscape of qualitative research, theories and issues. Thousand Oaks: Sage, pp. 291–331. Sennett, R. (2008) The craftsman. London: Allen Lane. Skills for Health. (2009) Core standards for assistant practitioners. London: Skills for Health. Smith, J., Flowers, P., and Larkin, M. (2009) Interpretative phenomenological analysis: Theory, method and research. London: Sage. Smith, J., and Osborn, M. (2003) Interpretative phenomenological analysis. In J. Smith (Ed.), Qualitative psychology: A practical guide to research methods. London: Sage. Sofarelli, D., and Brown, D. (1998) The need for nursing leadership in uncertain times. Journal of Nursing Management. 6: 201–207. Spouse, J. (2001) Bridging theory and practice in the supervisory relationship: A sociocultural perspective. Journal of Advanced Nursing. 33 (4): 512–522. Stordeur, S., Vandenberghe, C., and D’Hoore, W. (2000) Leadership styles across hierarchical level in nursing departments. Nursing Research. 49 (1): 37–43. Strauss, A., and Corbin, J. (1990) Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory procedures and techniques. Los Angeles, CA: Sage.

From healthcare assistant to practitioner 191 Tennant, M. (2004) Doctoring the knowledge worker. Studies in Continuing Education. 26 (3): 431–441. Thurgate, C., MacGregor, J., and O’Keefe, H. (2010) Meeting changing service needs through role development: A case study for Band 4 Assistant Practitioners. Journal Nursing Management, 18: 654–661. van Manen, M. (1997) Researching lived experience: Human science for an action sensitive pedagogy. New York: State University of New York Press. Wareing, M. (2012) Rhetoric and reality: The theoretical basis of work-based learning and the lived experience of the Foundation Degree student. Unpublished Ed.D. thesis. Open University.

Appendix 10.1

Super-ordinate and emergent themes from stage one interviews

Super-ordinate themes

Emergent themes

Role transition

• Prior experience as an HCA; • Drivers to being a TAP; • Moving to a new ward; • Transition to TAP. • Understanding TAP role; • Team behaviours; • Learning at university; • Learning in the workplace; • Role of mentors. • Working as a TAP; • Role of self in transition to TAP.

TAP development programme

Personal experience

Appendix 10.2

Super-ordinate and emergent themes from stage two interviews

Super-ordinate themes

Emergent themes

Giving meaning to the journey

• Transition to a TAP; • Behaviours of HCAs; • Learning in the workplace. • Making sense of development programme; • Changes in self; • Changes in practice.

Making sense of being a TAP

Appendix 10.3

Super-ordinate and emergent themes from stage three interviews

Super-ordinate themes

Emergent themes

Making sense of the journey

• Beginning the journey; • Being a TAP. • Working as an AP; • Change in self.

Being an AP

Appendix 10.4

Attributes, enabling factors and suggested consequences of an effective journey

Attributes of an effective journey Attribute

Descriptor

Learner manages transition through adjusting, adapting and accommodating to new role. Learner recognises and demonstrates a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude.

• Learner leads own learning; • Developing skills to problem solve and reflect in- and on- action; • Learning to fuse practice and theory; • Developing awareness of how behaviour impacts on others perception of them and letting go of the known. • Works to provide systems for organising and co-ordinating learning activities; • Facilitates rather than prescribes learning through critical reflection; • Assesses knowledge, skills and behaviour and provides effective feedback; • Facilitates the fusion of practical, theoretical and self-regulative knowledge. • Supports transformational learning; • Common vision and shared values and beliefs for new role; • Learner recognises role of self in work-based learning; • Learners lead their learning and engage in work-based learning.

Learner and mentor co-create new knowledge.

Workplace supports work-based learning and new role development.

Enabling factors for an effective journey Enabling factors

Descriptors

Learner

• Awareness of own role in learning; • Able to let go of the known; • Enthusiastic and motivated; • Uses prior practical knowledge as recognises a change in self, knowledge, skills and attitude; • Understands impact of behaviour. • Knowledgeable mentor who is able to support work-based learning; • Ward staff were involved in developing and implementing the new role; • Prepared for mentor role; • Competent mentor; • RNs and HCAs value career development; • Clear leadership. • Preparation and support for those developing and implementing new roles from within; • Clear vision for role shared and understood by organisation; • Organisation understands the requirements of work-based learning.

Workplace culture

Organisation

Suggested consequences of an effective journey Consequences

Descriptor

Learner Active learner able to lead their own learning in the workplace; Self-efficacy and enhanced cognitive ability in new role.

• Individual is able to fuse theoretical, practical and self-regulative knowledge; • Owns learning; • Increased clarity and understanding of their role as a worker and learner; • Appropriate attitude; • Resilience; • Enhanced self-belief and selfconfidence; • Self-efficacy; • Individual demonstrates a change in behaviour, knowledge and skills; • Recognise they are an AP; they have a known identity.

Consequences

Descriptor

Workplace • Perceived by ward team and New role understood in the workplace. organisation as an AP; • Safe, effective evidence-based care. Organisation • Evidence of thinking differently and Assured safe, effective evidence-based problem solving; care. • Care is based on evidence not takenfor-granted practical knowledge.

Appendix 10.5

Attributes, enabling factors and suggested consequences descriptors

Attributes of an effective journey Attribute

Descriptor

Learner engages in mindful transformative learning. Learner manages transition process through adjusting, adapting and accommodating to the new role.

• Learning appropriate coping strategies; • Learning to understands and recognise ‘reality shock’; • Adjusting, adapting, accommodating to role; • Building on prior practical knowledge; • Developing self-awareness; • Developing skills to problem solve and reflect in- and on- learning; • Learning to fuse theory and practice; • Learns to live and work with the knowledge, beliefs, values and assumptions of new role; • Using the workplace as the main resource for learning. • Creates a learning environment; • Assesses knowledge, skills and behaviour and provides effective feedback; • Facilitates rather than prescribes learning; • Supports transformational learning. • Common vision and shared values and beliefs for new role; • Developing formal systems to evaluate role effectiveness and practice transformation; • Learners lead their learning and engage in work-based learning.

Learner/mentor relationship uses the workplace as the main resource for learning.

Workplace accommodates and learns from the development and implementation of new roles.

The enabling factors of an effective journey Enabling factor

Descriptor

Awareness of own role in learning; Knowledge of self, practical knowledge, skills and attitude; Learner is prepared for transition and new role.

• Prepared for transition; • Permission to be new role; • Knows and understands role; • Provide learning opportunities; • Prior practical knowledge; • Mutual consent from self and workplace to transform and engage in transition; • Role clarity; • Motivated and enthusiastic. • Competent mentor prepared for role; • Understands the process of transformational learning. • Managers understand role; • Ward team developing role; • RNs and HCAs value career development; • Presence of transformational leadership; • Workplace is committed to workbased learning; • Recognition that everyone is good at something.

Mentor is knowledgeable about learning in the workplace and understands the process of transformational learning. Workplace culture supports the development and implementation of new roles.

The expected consequences of an effective journey Consequences

Descriptor

Learner Self-efficacy and professional identity for new role; Self-sufficient learner who can reflect on learning and change.

• Increased clarity and understanding of their role as a worker and learner; • Appropriate attitude; • Resilience; • Enhanced self-belief; • Self-confidence; • Self-efficacy; • Professional identity for new role; • Self-sufficient learner can reflect on learning and change.

Workplace • Problem solve to transfer book Learner and mentor co-create new knowledge into an expert’s informal knowledge and contribute to deliver knowledge. safe, effective evidence-based care. Organisation • Role innovation is a creative solution Ongoing support for role innovation to the provision of safe, effective care; and career • New role recognised. framework for HCAs.

Chapter 11

Understanding and appraising medical students’ learning through clinical experiences Participatory practices at work Stephen Billett and Linda Sweet

Understanding and appraising medical students’ learning Understanding how the learning of occupations can best progress is now the central project for tertiary education, and particularly when its programs are occupational specific. In response to these challenges, workplace experiences are now being provided in a whole range of these programs. As a consequence, it becomes important to understand the particular contributions of experiences in both the educational and workplace settings contribute to this learning. This chapter focuses on understanding the contributions of these two settings in the development of occupational capacities. It does this by exploring the participatory practices that comprise a group of medical students’ learning through their clinical experiences. Participatory practices are those comprising a duality between what is afforded by the social institutions in which individuals participate, and how they engage with and learn through what is afforded them in those practices (Billett, 2004). The affordances of social institutions are seen in terms of their invitational qualities: that is, the degree by which they are invited to participate in and learn through the activities and interactions being enacted in those settings. Individuals’ engagement in these activities or taking up the invitation afforded them is premised upon their intentionalities (Malle, Moses & Baldwin, 2001), readiness in terms of the capacities they possess (Billett, 2015) and how they value what is afforded them (Hodkinson & Hodkinson, 2004). These participatory practices comprise a duality which is both interdependent and relational. The practices are interdependent because social practice requires to be enacted and sustained through individuals’ engagement with it, and that engagement is necessary to access the knowledge required to enact and sustain the social practice (Donald, 1991). They are relational insofar as the qualities of invitation and the bases of engagement will be both situational and person dependent (Billett, 2006). In this way what constitutes invitational qualities of educational experiences are not fixed, being shaped by their projection by the social setting and also how individuals see these qualities as being invitational. What for one individual will be an opportunity to engage in a

Understanding medical students’ learning 201

workplace activity that might be a new learning opportunity, for another it is merely rehearsing what they already know, can do and value. Also, given the person-dependent premises of interest, intentionality and capacities, there can be no guarantee that the ‘same’ invitation to participate will be engaged with uniformly by different individuals, with distinct kinds of learning arising from their processes of construing what is experienced, and constructing knowledge from that experience. An experience that one individual might find unproblematic and benign, another might view as critical and challenging. What one student might perceive as being helpful supervision, another might view as unhelpful interference. Similarly, a lack of close supervision might be seen as abandonment by one, yet an opportunity to practice independently by another. Although relational, there is interdependence between the practice of social institutions and of individuals. Social institutions such as educational institutions and educational institutions require individuals to engage with them, advance their purposes and transform them accordingly (Donald, 1991). The existence and continuity of social institutions (e.g., hospitals) and their continual remaking and transformation, as work requirements change, are premised upon individuals’ engagement with them. Conversely, individuals need to engage with such institutions and their practices for them to learn, extend and exercise the knowledge that they afford. These institutions would be become moribund should individuals choose not to engage with them in remaking and transforming their practices. Hence, both social institutions and the individuals engaging with them represent interdependence, albeit enacted in relational ways. It follows that in understanding learning in and through social institutions such as universities and workplaces, it is insufficient to consider the activities and interactions provided by those settings in isolation, or, conversely how individuals direct their efforts and energies in engaging with them. Instead, it is necessary to account for both sets of factors and the relationships between them.The process of learning to become a doctor requires interaction between individuals (i.e., students, medical practitioners) and social institutions (i.e., universities and healthcare workplaces) as well as various social partners in those institutions. Consequently, a schema such as participatory practice, with its focus on these relational interdependencies, offers a means by which learning and students’ development can be explained. To elaborate on these processes and identify how they contribute to students’ learning, it is necessary to understand both the activities and interactions that are afforded and also students’ engagement with those affordances. To elaborate this explanatory account of relational interdependence, data from interviews with students in an Australian medical education program are drawn upon to appraise how this conceptualisation explains of entering a medical education program, learning through participating in that program, and in particular, the learning arising through clinical experiences. Thirteen medical students were interviewed about their clinical experiences and the consequences of those experiences, to gain an understanding of the impacts upon their learning and their preferences for future specialisation (Richards, Sweet & Billett, 2013). Their experiences

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and accounts of the consequences of their learning in clinical settings are elaborated on in this chapter. Necessarily, therefore, it commences by outlining some bases on which these students’ learning can come to be understood.

Medical students’ learning through clinical practice Over the last three decades, concerns about the efficacy of educational provisions in securing desired employment outcomes has led to growing interest in providing social and situationally authentic experiences for tertiary students (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, 2010; Raizen, 1991). During this time, theories have arisen about the situated contributions to learning afforded by the immediate physical and social environments in which students come to think and act. Conceptions such as communities of practice (Lave & Wenger, 1991), situated cognition (Brown, Collins & Duguid, 1989), activity systems (Engestrom, 1993) and distributed cognition (Salomon, 1997) have predominated. This emphasis on social and physical environments has led to understanding the importance of providing practice-based experiences in programs preparing students for specific occupations. This interest reflects long-standing concerns of practices within medical education, which has always included extensive periods of clinical practice of diverse kinds and durations (Cooke, Irby & O’Brien, 2010; Jolly & MacDonald, 1989). Indeed, practicebased experiences have long been the basis of learning medicine within Western traditions (Lodge, 1947). These experiences are not only central to the initial preparation that enables students to become doctors, but also in assisting them identify and prepare for their specialisations (Cleland, Leaman & Billett, 2014). Most of the knowledge required for medicine, for example, arises from the social world (i.e., historically, culturally) and is manifested in the specific requirements of a particular healthcare setting (Billett, 1998). Consequently, securing medical knowledge by engagement with socially derived sources such as texts, experts, other medical practitioners and students is emphasised, making accessible the canonical knowledge of the occupation. However, it is also necessary to access and engage in thinking and acting in occupationally authentic ways in circumstances where this canonical knowledge is manifested and comprises the circumstances of practice. These premises have, more broadly, led to theorising and practice related concerns about the contributions to, and individuals’ learning of, the particular kinds of activities and interactions provided by educational programs and partners. Hence, considerations of these contributions and how individuals can access and engage with them have become a focus for the evaluation of educational practices. These contributions arise from them being seen as institutional or social facts (Searle, 1995) (i.e. derived from the social world and its contributions), and they include the particular circumstances of practice (e.g., patients, conditions and facilities) and their participatory practices (i.e., activities and interactions). The contributions of social

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partners, engagement with what the social world suggests or affordances of the social world are essential in explaining how canonical occupational knowledge is experienced and learnt. This is because these suggestions are expressions of how the norms (i.e. how things are organised), forms (e.g. texts and artefacts) and practices (i.e. how particular practices enact those suggestions). Beyond what is afforded, it is also necessary to consider personal facts such as how individuals come to experience, construe and construct that knowledge from what is suggested to them. As noted earlier, there is an interdependence between social institutions and the knowledge they generate, and individuals taking up, using and extending the knowledge, thereby sustaining and developing those institutions. Hence, what constitutes medical practice requires active engagement, remaking and transformation by individuals. Yet, these processes cannot and will not be enacted in uniform ways. This is because, on the one hand, what is suggested by the social world is never without ambivalence or lack of clarity, or is even uniformly projected (Berger & Luckman, 1966). How individuals come to construe and construct what they experience, on the other hand, is, by degree, the product of their own unique personal histories (Billett, 2009a). Those unique histories are premised upon the particular sets of social experiences that individuals have encountered, and also upon brute facts (i.e. those of nature, such as their strengths, sensory systems and how they mature; see Searle 1995). Central to understanding how individuals engage and learn is the concept of personal epistemologies: the bases and ways by which they come to construe and construct knowledge from what they experience, which include learner intentionality, interest and capacities (Billett, 2009b). These personal factors are salient to how individuals construe, elect to engage with and construct what is suggested to them. There can be no certainty that what is suggested socially through norms, forms and practices will generate a uniform response or outcome from those engaging with them. It is the interplay between the suggestion of the social world and individuals’ engagement that is central to understanding learning. In essence, it is necessary to accommodate the duality between the contributions of the social world and individuals’ cognising efforts. For instance, it has been suggested that issues of gender, class and ethnicity play roles in the opportunities afforded to medical students (Bleakley, 2010). These conceptions are now used to illuminate and explain the processes of some students’ engagement in their medical studies, and in particular how that learning arises through the participatory practices comprising students’ experiences in clinical settings.

Investigating medical students’ participatory practices The data described and analysed in this section were secured through a qualitative research project that sought to understand medical students’ perceptions

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and bases for their engagement in their medical education program. Individual interviews were selected as a means of gathering data to understand students’ motivations, actions and strategies, and engaging students to provide narratives that offered valid accounts of their experiences and experiencing (i.e., learning). The interviews were lengthy, as was required to secure detailed accounts of what motivated them to engage in medical education, and to describe their experiences in their program of study. Focused interviews with specified foci, yet utilising open items, were adopted. Ethical approval was secured from the host university. Medical students from a four-year graduate entry program comprised the study population. In this program, students select one of three models of clinical education for their third year (i.e., first clinical year of study): (i) the traditional hospital-based block model, (ii) the rural longitudinal integrated curriculum model or (iii) a hybrid of these two models. Students from the first and second model cohorts progressing through this program were invited to participate in a semi-structured individual face-to-face interview at the end of the year, and 13 students consented. Eight of the informants were from the ‘traditional’ hospital-based model and five were from the rural longitudinal model. The interview questions addressed participants’ perceptions and experiences of learning in clinical environments. There were also optional, case-based discussion groups for model (i) students. The interviews were conducted and recorded, each lasting between 50 and 75 minutes. The combination of the informants’ involvement in the earlier case-based discussion groups with the subsequent lengthy interviews added to the quality of the data; that is, the eight ‘traditional’ model participants had engaged in a group-based process throughout the year which had also involved discussion and evaluation of their clinical experiences prior to the face-to-face interviews. In this way, they brought a level of consideration and introspection to the interviews, which is potentially quite distinct from informants who have not had such an opportunity. Hence, some of the interview transcripts are particularly rich and detailed, and provide informed and considered insights into the processes of learning. To assist the validity of the data, one researcher performed the open coding of the transcripts and development of emerging themes, while the other researchers subsequently validated the coding and interpretation of the data to assist with reliability in the analysis. A subsection of those data are used in this chapter. The presentation and discussion of qualitative data is often quite problematic. The selection of extracts and the degree to which they are representative or informative, and whether they constitute convenience rather than helpful explanation are issues which have long dogged qualitative method researchers. These limitations are understood by the authors. This chapter provides a narrative presented by one of the medical students (whom we will call Sue). The authors use this narrative, augmented by data from other informants, to present and discuss the data, and offer an explanation of the experiences that these

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students provide through their transcripts. Such a process addresses issues of validity differently from a quantitative inquiry. However, the justification is that the experiences of any one of these students needs to be explainable by such a framework. So, whilst no claims about the generalisability of experiences and outcomes are offered, these kinds of data can be used to validate and extend explanatory schemes that seek to account for students’ learning in the different kinds of experiences and processes of experiencing which constitutes their participation in their medical education. This extends to the clinical experiences that are focussed upon here.

Clinical experiences and learning Sue reports that during the completion of her Bachelor of Science degree at the university in her hometown, she became interested in the scientific aspects of medicine and human behaviour. This led her to conclude that medicine would be an interesting career, one well suited to her interests and strengths. Her initial attempt to secure entry into a medical degree course was unsuccessful, so she undertook an Honours program focusing on her related interests of personality aspects (human thinking and acting) and the science of asthma (biological processes), which afforded her entry into medicine. The interviews undertaken with Sue and the other students occurred after the completion of their third year of the medical course. It is the transcript of our interview with Sue which forms the stem of the narrative presented in this section. Using this narrative as the framework enables an explanatory account of her experiences, postulations about how these experiences came about and the likely efficacy of those experiences in terms of her preparation to become a doctor. This approach is offered as an alternative to an aggregation of findings from a larger number of informants. Also referred to here is Jim, another student who took the teaching hospital-based model of medical education, largely because of family commitments, and Gil, a Canadian student who took the longitudinal rural model, which incorporated extensive placements in rural settings. Sue’s preference for her third-year program was to undertake a year-long placement in a rural area. She was pleased to secure this placement for a number of reasons. Firstly, she was familiar with the area, having undertaken some work experience there at the end of her first year as a medical student. This work experience was supported by a rural doctors’ agency, and was sponsored by the state government’s health department. During that period, she found that working with a general practitioner (GP) was a very positive experience. She liked the area, which was not too far from the capital city where she lived, but was far enough away to provide a different kind and range of experiences which were well-funded and organised. Secondly, this prior experience led her to participate in a further program to provide medical students with clinical experiences in rural and regional settings, and

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she concluded that “it would just be a really good area and the program has been running for 10 years”. So, her response to securing this placement was that this “would be a really good opportunity”. Already evident here is a set of institutional arrangements of a particular kind are afforded to (some) medical education students: that is, opportunities supported through the provision of experiences in general practice and healthcare services in this setting. Thirdly, Sue did not have to organise, sponsor or finance these clinical experiences because of government funded provision of educational experiences, accommodation and support available locally. Whilst this may not be the case in other occupations, the institutional affordances for medical students such as Sue are substantial. However, Jim, who had already sold the house he and his wife lived in to fund his medical studies, did not want to ask his wife to move away from where she worked to take up a similar opportunity. What was a positive affordance for Sue as a single woman was not possible for Jim with his family commitments. Also, although Gil (who is from Canada) wanted to secure a rural placement, as an international student he was denied this option because of funding rules that his Australian counterparts enjoyed. Like Jim, he was aware of and interested in the more practice-immersed approach which is common in his native Canada. However, the institutional affordances comprising this option were not available to him. He eventually undertook some of his experiences (a paediatrician rotation) in a city in northern Australia, which provided some diversity from the traditional medical education model. Sue was pleased to have the opportunity to be placed in rural area and reports engaging in this setting in an enthusiastic and full-bodied way, rather than as somebody who was reluctant to accept a rural placement. As described next, she engaged actively with what she experienced. She described her experiences during the year-long placement in the following ways. Her week was “split up into our consulting time in the general practice and sitting with different specialists in the region”. These specialists were, for example, resident surgeons and anaesthetists at the local hospital. Sue also sat with specialists, such as visiting cardiologists and paediatricians, in consulting rooms just outside of the hospital precinct. She would also be ‘on call’ one week out of every three and one night every week. So, for up to three days of the week, students in this kind of placement would be involved in consulting, with two sessions with a specialist during which they would either sit in on consultations or go into the operating theatre. One day a week was focused on problem-based learning, clinical skills teaching and time in the simulation laboratory. There was a student study day during which she could engage in tutorials with the general practice supervisor and any available visiting specialists. Sometimes, these tutorials would be via video conference with staff at the primary university campus or perhaps through participating in pharmacotherapy tutorials, for instance. Alternatively, specialists would engage with students in a case-based approach, analysing their responses to recent cases,

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or hold tutorials with visiting specialists, such as cardiologists or psychiatrists who were available only in the evenings. During her time off Sue engaged in self-directed study, preparing for the problem-based learning activities she had been set by her tutors and was participating in, completing her written assignments, and preparing for tutorials with her GP and specialists. Sue also described how she and the other students would read up on the recent cases they had engaged with in the clinic or with specialists. Sue reported that her week was busy, but well organised. In her spare time, Sue engaged with the local community. For instance, she said that her “outlet this year was to join the local church and tennis club”, and she found that attending church every Sunday morning provided her with “an excellent opportunity to meet people in the community and also some of doctors from my clinic also attended”. In this way, she met a range of people from the healthcare community and came to engage in different ways with community members. She also referred to these experiences as being good networking in the beginning, but also really nice to get to know some of young families, which she found rewarding. She joined the tennis club at the start of the year, “and played for the rest of the summer season which was a lot of fun. Yes, so it’s been pretty busy”. Again, the duality of participatory practice is evident here. On one hand is the intentional provision of experiences for learning afforded by institutions (university, general practice, hospital, church, tennis club), other professionals and assigned supervisors, and on the other hand, how Sue participated engaged with all of these. In other circumstances and for other individuals, the affordances may not have been so great, but also others may not have elected to participate in the local community as Sue did. The affordances of the rural clinical experience program and Sue’s engagement with it provide positive instances of participatory practices. On one hand, a range of experiences were made available for her, as well as arrangements to organise and promote her engagement and learning. The experiences to which she had access were highly invitational, and were structured to ease her taking up that invitation. The ability to observe and participate, or to ‘sit in’ with GPs and specialists engaging in their practice, and to follow their cases is likely to be highly effective in gaining an understanding of the goals and procedural approaches through which medicine is practiced. The ability to observe, imitate and practice, referred to as mimetic learning (Billett, 2014), is perhaps the most foundational of human cognitive processes through which we learn. In particular, in these situations it permits the development of goal states (i.e., what outcomes should medical work progress), means of achieving those (e.g., the kind of clinical reasoning that sits behind decision-making) and the opportunity for rehearsal, which both reinforces and extends what individuals know, can do and value.This leads to considerations of the educational worth of these kinds of experiences.

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The educational worth of clinical experiences When asked about the worth of these different experiences, Sue identified what was supportive of her learning and emphasised her time working with her GP supervisor. She’s been incredible ‘cause . . . not just having that one on one time with the doctor, but also she had a lot of care and consideration that she put into her teaching and it was really important to her that Tracy [another medical student] and I really understood the concepts that we were being taught in our tutorials. (Sue) These tutorials comprised reading through the problem-based learning case, after which the supervisor would ask questions about the cases that unfolded. She would probe us and test us and get us to do role plays and ask other peripheral questions and then give us a wealth of wisdom that she had to share [laughs], which was invaluable. She also went to the effort of organising additional tutorials for us before exams so we could cover anything that we would like further revision on with her. But she is just amazing and when we were consulting with her in the clinic she would always run through things very thoroughly and shared little pearls of wisdom with asking histories and clinical examinations and things and test us when we needed to be tested. (Sue) The quality of what was being afforded by the clinical placement extended to a high level of pro-activity on the part of local practitioners. Sue reported that she and another student would be called by the hospital staff if there was something unusual occurring, for instance a patient suffering from a stroke. They would be invited to do a neurological examination, which Sue recalls as being a rich learning experience. Moreover, the students were interested to participate in and supported locally by obstetricians to attend births, and engage with provisions of antenatal care.This support extended to access to, and engaging with, pregnant women, so the students could secure their permission to follow them through their pregnancy and assist in the birthing process. This experience was reported by Sue as being highly rewarding, as well as educationally potent. Importantly, such experiences would not have been possible without the considered engagement and support of local healthcare practitioners (i.e., affordances). For Sue, and equally for Tracy, these experiences led to each of them being involved with more than ten pregnant women, and having a range of experiences which deepened their understanding of pregnancy and the birthing process.

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However, when pressed, Sue concluded that consulting in general practice had been the most continuous method through which she had enriched her learning during clinical placements. She contrasted the experiences of sitting in with specialists and working in general practice. When we’ve been attending with the specialists we’ve taken observatory roles and every now and then, depending on who the specialist was, they might ask us to, they might say, oh this is an interesting sign on the patient, come and have a look or come and have a look or you can come and examine this or that. But usually that’s more of an observatory role in that context. But in the general practice setting the GPs have given us a lot of instruction but then also a lot of room to practice consulting. (Sue) Sue reported that the first four or six weeks were spent sitting in with the GP observing the consultation process, but after that time, she and the other student were given their own rooms and would work under the supervision of a GP. If they were willing, the students could consult patients on that GP’s list for the day. They first had to gain the consent of the patients to see them, and the patients were then seen by the doctor. In their consultations, the students would take patients’ histories, perform examinations to the extent they considered were required and on completion would call the GP into the consulting room. The students would share with the GP the patient’s history and findings of the examination, and any conclusions they had drawn. This method of teaching and learning developed over the course of the year’s placement. The worth of these experiences has not escaped those students who were not able to engage with them. Jim contrasts his experience within a major metropolitan teaching hospital with those of Sue and Tracy in the rural placement program. He commented that in the traditional hospital-based medical education program, students are positioned very differently: following consultants around wards and engaging far more passively and remotely. Occasionally, he reported being assigned a task by a consultant (e.g., giving patients some guidance about alcohol or smoking). This was, however, quite different than interacting with patients when taking a history and giving counselling, or the clinical reasoning and decision-making process. In terms of his progression, he concluded at the end-of-year major assessment, that rural placement students were far more likely to be competent than he was. This was because the activities in which they were engaging were more likely to lead to becoming a competent medical practitioner than the activities he experienced. As noted earlier, it is most likely that the experiences afforded Sue had pressed her into engaging in goal-directed activities, considering a range of factors through which to identify patients’ histories and conditions, and what actions might be undertaken. All of this is central to developing doctors’ core capacity of clinical reasoning.

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In short, Sue’s episodic and authentic experiences engaged her in the kinds of thinking and acting in which doctors engage, and included the consideration of a range of factors required for clinical reasoning in decision-making. So then we would have our own [consulting] room where we would take the patient into the room and take a proper history and then do an examination as far as we could, as much as we thought we needed to examine and then ring the GP on the phone and let them know that we’d finished and they would come and see us and come into the room and then they would ask us to report back our history and examination findings and what we thought was going on. (Sue) In contrast, Gil experienced the teaching hospital-based model, whereby there was less structure to his day depending “on who’s on the ward and what they get you to do and what their style of teaching is and what they think med students should be doing. There’s a big difference”. The less episodic and more disengaged processes that Gil experienced is most likely to lead to different kinds of outcomes. Here, we are reminded of the dictum that activity structures cognition (Rogoff & Lave, 1984). It is also noteworthy that another, but analogous, study of firstyear doctors working in hospitals found that despite having had a lot of clinical experience during their medical training, it was only when they engaged in actual medical tasks that involved understanding and reasoning that they realised their knowledge was often deficit in some ways (Cleland et al., 2014). They reported a lack of the kind of foundational knowledge required to reason and make clinical decisions. That is, only when they were placed in the position of making those decisions did they realise the strengths and limitations of their knowledge. However, Gil did refer to the sometimes overwhelming nature of these immersion experiences, drawing on what his sister had reported. He also suggested that the provision of learning experiences in the university is more likely to intentionally address the scope of the knowledge to be learnt, rather than what occurs through the opportunities arising in practice. Gil also made a point about readiness or lack thereof. That is, he reported being involved in a two-week placement with a GP in a rural community. However, even though he was provided with a similar set of experiences as Sue, he reported them as being a lot less helpful. He stated that he was not really ready for the experience and could not gain maximum benefit from it. I was involved in the practice and in the little hospital, and I didn’t really know anything at all. So I think I didn’t get as much out of it as I could, if I had done it later on. It probably would have been most helpful experience if I’d had it later in the year. (Gil)

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So, it is not just the provision of experiences (immersion, relations, etc.), but also the readiness of the student to engage effectively with those experiences (i.e., confidence, self-agency, etc.) (Billett, 2015). In another study focussed on the integration of experiences across university and work settings, students strongly endorsed the importance of gradual engagement in workplace activities in ways commensurate with their readiness to participate effectively (Billett, 2011). Indeed, during her rural placement year, Sue claims that her history-taking and examination skills changed significantly through the opportunity for practice. She recalled initially not knowing where to begin nor could she identify what actions were most relevant. So she tended to ask lots of questions about lots of different aspects of the patients’ health. Sue commented, “I couldn’t quite recognise the patterns early on as to what condition it might be”. However, through repeated practice and feedback provided by the GP, during her rural placement year the focus of questioning and the extent of history-taking and examination went from taking quite a long time and being ill-focussed to being considerably quicker and more focussed. Sue reported that some of her initial examinations had taken almost an hour. This slowness caused some frustration for her GP. However, the combination of practice and feedback were attributed to her becoming more confident and focused in her history-taking and examinations, and possessing better skills and identifying patterns which lead to a more effective engagement; therefore, her confidence in history-taking and examinations increased. Hence, by the end of the year her consultation skills had increased significantly. She identified this development as a product of practice and feedback, but also the contributions of the problem-based learning approach and other experiences such as the tutorials. These were clearly well organised, productive and positive affordances provided in the medical clinic, supporting her development as a nascent medical practitioner. Jim referred to an example that characterises the differences in the engagement across the cohort engaged in the teaching hospital and those in the rural setting. He pointed out that not only was he given relatively trivial tasks to perform, but also even when he was encouraged to go and see patients, it was a very different learning experience than if he had been actually undertaking the admission and the history-taking. That is, the patient’s condition had already been diagnosed, so his engagement was contingent upon already knowing what they were presenting with. Whereas Sue’s circumstance included taking the history, conducting the examination and coming up with conclusions to be checked by a more experienced practitioner, Jim’s experience consisted of working around what other people had already concluded. Hence, his learning process was far more truncated. He concluded by again making a comparison that in terms of “practical hands-on, dealing with patients, [rural] students seem to have the upper advantage, because they are getting better exposure, getting to see the patient”. Sue provided an interesting response when asked about what experiences in her medical education had been inadequate. She referred to the tutorial arrangement in the first or second year of her university-based components of

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the program when a clinical educator resigned. Because no replacement could be found, students were given responsibility for running tutorials on a rotational basis. However, in comparison with educative practices in health-care workplaces, those within the university program faltered. The peer-led processes were inadequate in the face of hostilities and disorganisation within the group, and were marred by inconsiderate conduct. Sue recounted that even those students who were conciliatory became frustrated, particularly with the domination of the process by a few students. Other students began to withdraw, or become disengaged or guarded because there was often disrespect within the tutorials. Noteworthy in the educational provision is the absence of structure, respect and discretion which was so evident in the clinical settings Sue had experienced. As was reported by other students, Sue worked closely with another student who was on the same placement, and their collaboration provided a salve against some of the more difficult experiences they encountered. Other students reported that these kinds of collaborations were established to assist them in dealing with the demanding requirements of medical study, to bulwark against discomfiting or negative experiences in clinical settings, and to facilitate collaborative studies ahead of clinical placements or, most importantly, final examinations. In these ways, the limiting and unsatisfactory affordances of the educational program were mediated by how the students came to participate, forming close personal peer relationships to manage and mitigate difficult and unproductive experiences. Moreover, Sue offers exemplars of how students’ agency, as directed by their personal epistemologies, is central to the learning of medical practice. In discussing the development of her clinical skills through interacting with nurses at the rural hospital, she mentioned how she had engaged deliberately and effortfully to develop particular clinical skills. Having observed that one of the nurses took blood every day, she negotiated to access experiences about how to take blood effectively and to secure sufficient practice to do so. As with her experiences in the GP and specialists’ surgeries, this began with her sitting with a nurse, watching how she took blood. Then, after a period of observation she engaged in the process and secured sufficient practice to become competent and confident in taking blood. She referred to this opportunity repeatedly in terms of building her confidence to work in a clinical environment, and to proceed with learning more complex clinical skills, such as inserting cannulas and catheters. You feel comfortable that you know what to do and you can do it and you feel more part of a role, rather than sitting back and feeling inadequate. You feel like you can do something and then that sort of impacts on the rest of the clinical encounter as well. (Sue)

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Similarly, Jim recounted the importance of rehearsing procedurally focussed learning. In referring to short blocks of intense placements in which students secured opportunities to practice, he said the short blocks were really good because you . . . had one week of intensive of just doing one thing, . . . – I have this saying – repetition is king, so the way to get things into your memory is through repetition. For the one week on cardiac, every day you saw three, four, five patients and you went through the same sequence. (Jim) He went on to say that in other areas he might only see one patient with a cardiac condition during a four-week placement: It’s kind of luck of the draw. You might see something rare, you might see something random or you might see the same, diabetes 10 times a day. Having that one week in CCU was good because it sort of hammered it into you a little bit. But equally, you felt like it wasn’t enough at the end of it. (Jim) Gil also returned to issues of readiness when describing the efficacy of particular educational experiences. He referred to being in a ward where the complexity of the patients’ cases was often overwhelming. Yet, in referring to the way that more experienced practitioners were able to assist his learning in such circumstances, he said: The junior doctors were good at pitching things at my level so they’d pick out the important things about the patients. They’d ask me the questions with the right expectations, so that was good. The chance to see patients in ED and present them that was really helpful. Time pressure was a bit frustrating because there are so many patients so I didn’t have much time to take proper histories but the experience . . . was really good. (Gil) What is referred to is a set of experiences characterised by the ordering and sequencing in terms of what they provide for the students, appropriateness to their stage of development, and inducting them gradually into engaging in decision-making and acting, which by degree, is commensurate with their level of development. When the readiness of the learner and the demands of the situation are too greatly divided, the outcomes can be unhelpful.When they are well aligned they are seen to be highly productive. It is these kinds of considerations that are central to the curriculum – the organisation and enactment of

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learning experiences. Moreover, as evident earlier, these data capture a range of practice pedagogies (i.e., means of supporting and augmenting clinical experiences) from the situations of parallel consultations, engagements with GPs and specialists, and opportunities to observe and practice, through to the considered actions of junior doctors. These practices assist in closing the gap between what medical students know and can do, and what they experience in clinical situations. In different ways and by degree, and premised upon personal readiness, these contributions to medical students’ learning can be either powerful and consolidating, or they can be potentially overwhelming. Before concluding, it should be acknowledged that the kind of experience that were made available to Sue and Tracy through a longitudinal rural placement are exceptional, but resource-intensive and difficult to massify. These examples are used here to illustrate the concept of participatory practices and eliminate the kinds of qualities that lead to rich learning in practice settings. In the following section, issues about application to practice are briefly addressed.

Participatory practices in action The accounts presented and discussed in this chapter about what constitutes these medical students’ experiences are advanced through the concept of participatory practices comprising the provision of those experiences (i.e., affordances) and how individuals responded to them (their engagement). The data demonstrate that it is important to have a separate consideration of the kinds of experiences which constitute the curriculum of the medical education program, as well as an accounting of the capacities, values and interests of the students, and how they come to engage with learning experiences. However, an understanding of the totality of the experiences and how learning arises through different kinds of experiences requires consideration of the relations and outcomes that arise in the interactions between the students and the provisions provided for them. What has been offered here is a consideration of curriculum, in terms of the ordering and enactment of experiences for these medical students, which were advanced in both educational and practice settings. Certainly, these findings provide some tentative points for consideration about how educational experiences might be intentionally organised. In curriculum terms, what is indicated here is that experiences in which novice occupational practitioners can come to engage in the occupational practice in a way and with authentic occupational tasks that are commensurate with their level of readiness likely to be an effective basis for promoting their learning, rather than relying upon instruction alone. More than the sequencing of activities, it is their kinds and qualities that are most important here, as these are the bases by which affordances are advanced and engaged. So here, the issue of curriculum as a pathway of experiences – its original meaning – is re-engaged. The intended curriculum here is seen as comprising the kinds of pathways that novice occupational practitioners need to progress

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along to acquire the competence required to be effective. Then, the pedagogic practices that were evident in the accounts referred to comprise those that can best be afforded and are central to learning through the particular social practice. Here, observation, questioning, engaging in activities, modelling, and parallel practice along with those provided through educational programs such as problem-based learning and videoconferencing, all contributed in different ways to student learning. So, here the concept of pedagogic practice is opened up and goes beyond teaching alone. In addition to considerations of curriculum and pedagogy are also those associated with the learner’s personal epistemologies. That is, how the students come to engage in and learnt through their experiences and what directs and focuses their activities. All of this leads to a set of very practical considerations about the organisation of the learning experiences to assist individuals develop occupational competence in both educational and practice settings, how these can be strengthened and augmented through pedagogic practices such as those mentioned above, and how learners can be pressed to engage in ways motivated by their intentionalities and interests. A practical consideration for teachers and tertiary education is how we can prepare our students to engage effectively in such ways and environments to develop the kinds of capacities that were referred to in this chapter. All this positions the teacher as more than a provider of knowledge and emphasises the importance of organising and supporting rich learning experiences for our students.

References Berger, P. L., & Luckman, T. (1966). The Social Construction of Reality. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin. Billett, S. (1998). Situation, social systems and learning. Journal of Education and Work, 11(3), 255–274. Billett, S. (2004). Learning through work: Workplace participatory practices. In H. Rainbow, A. Fuller, & A. Munroe (Eds.), Workplace learning in context (pp. 109–125). London: Routledge. Billett, S. (2006). Relational interdependence between social and individual agency in work and working life. Mind, Culture and Activity, 13(1), 53–69. Billett, S. (2009a). Conceptualising learning experiences: Contributions and mediations of the social, personal and brute. Mind, Culture and Activity, 16(1), 32–47. Billett, S. (2009b). Personal epistemologies, work and learning. Educational Research Review, 4, 210–219. Billett, S. (2011). Curriculum and Pedagogic Bases for Effectively Integrating Practice-based Experiences. Sydney: Office of Learning and Teaching, Commonwealth Government of Australia Billett, S. (2014) Mimetic learning at work: Learning in the circumstances of practice, Springer; Dordrecht, The Netherlands ISBN 978-3-319-09276-8 Billett, S. (2015). Readiness and learning in healthcare education. Clinical Teacher, 12, 1–6. Bleakley, A. (2010). Social comparison, peer learning and democracy in medical education. Medical teacher, 32(11), 878–879.

216  Stephen Billett and Linda Sweet Brown, J. S., Collins, A., & Duguid, P. (1989). Situated cognition and the culture of learning. Educational Researcher, 18(1), 32–34. Cleland, J., Leaman, J., & Billett, S. (2014). Developing medical capacities and dispositions through practice-based experiences. In C. Harteis, A. Rausch, & J. Seifried (Eds.), Discourses on professional learning: On the boundary between learning and working. Dordrecht: Springer. Cooke, M., Irby, D., & O’Brien, B. C. (2010). Educating Physicians: A Call for Reform of Medical School and Residency. Washington, DC: The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Donald, M. (1991). Origins of the Modern Mind: Three Stages in the Evolution of Culture and Cognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Engestrom,Y. (1993). Development studies of work as a testbench of activity theory:The case of primary care medical practice. In S. Chaiklin & J. Lave (Eds.), Understanding practice: Per­ spectives on activity and context (pp. 64–103). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Hodkinson, P. H., & Hodkinson, H. (2004). The significance of individuals’ dispositions in the workplace learning: A case study of two teachers. Journal of Education and Work, 17(2), 167–182. Jolly, B., & MacDonald, M. M. (1989). Education for practice: The role of practical experience in undergraduate and general clinical training. Medical Education, 23, 189–195. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated Learning – Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Lodge, R. C. (1947). Plato’s Theory of Education. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner. Malle, B. F., Moses, L. J., & Baldwin, D. A. (2001). Introduction: The significance of intention­ ality. In B. F. Malle, L. J. Moses, & D. A. Baldwin (Eds.), Intentions and intentionality: Foundations of social cognition (pp. 1–26). Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. (2010). Learning for Jobs. Paris: OECD. Raizen, S. A. (1991). Learning and work: The research base: Vocational Education and Training for youth:Towards coherent policy and practice. Paris: OECD Richards, J., Sweet, L., & Billett, S. (2013). Preparing medical students as agentic learners through enhancing student engagement in clinical education. Asia-Pacific Journal of Cooperative Education, 14(4), 251–263. Rogoff, B., & Lave, J. (Eds.). (1984). Everyday Cognition: Its Development in Social Context. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Salomon, G. (1997). Distributed Cognitions: Psychological and Educational Considerations. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Searle, J. R. (1995). The Construction of Social Reality. London: Penguin.

Chapter 12

Learning decision making in the emergency department Duncan Thomas Carmichael

Introduction Emergency Medicine (EM) is a specialty that deals with the diagnosis and management of acute illness and injury (International Federation for Emergency Medicine [IFEM], 2012). Emergency Physicians (EPs) generally practice in the Emergency Department (ED) where, working with junior colleagues, they see patients of all ages with a full spectrum of urgent or emergency medical problems. Patients arrive undifferentiated or unsorted; some have minor illness, others require urgent or life saving intervention. The team must identify those in need of urgent or emergency care, initiate the necessary investigations and treatment, establish a working diagnosis, and arrange for definitive care. The EP’s role is to lead the team, whilst supervising and teaching the junior doctors they are working alongside. Decision making “lies at the heart of all clinical practice” (Vincent, 2010:332). The nature of EM in particular, “fundamentally a diagnostic specialty” (Sinclair and Croskerry, 2010:28), means that good quality decision making is essential. It is also a challenge: time is of the essence, and there is the need to make important decisions with limited information (Croskerry, 2000). In an environment that is chaotic, overcrowded, and – by definition – unpredictable, situations continue to evolve during the decision making process. Furthermore, “approaches to problem-solving are often not generalizable to future patients” (Weingart and Wyer, 2006:12), making the process of learning from experience more difficult. Combining this state of affairs with a largely junior and inexperienced workforce, it is little wonder that the ED has been referred to as a “natural laboratory for error” (Bogner, in Sinclair and Croskerry, 2010:28), or that it might be considered a place in which learning is both imperative and challenging (Goldman, Plack, Roche, Smith and Turley, 2009). At the same time, the opportunities provided to the junior doctor by this rich and challenging environment, with its steep learning curve, are considerable. This chapter explores multiple perspectives on the nature of decision making in EM, and the relationship between practice and learning in this context.

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Firstly, relevant cognitive, narrative and learning theories are discussed, providing a basis for understanding learning in the ED. Secondly, the experiences of trainers and trainees working in a typical UK ED are explored, through the discussion of qualitative data from a thematic analysis of a series of interviews. Reframing decision making in EM as a socially situated phenomenon, this chapter argues that the clinical and educational elements of practice are interwoven, and highlights the essential role of workplace based learning in developing the skills and experience required. Differing perspectives on decision making, education and practice in EM provide insights which help inform the approach of clinicians to understanding and supporting learning in this context.

Background Medical training and EM in the UK

In the UK, junior doctors spend the first two years after medical school in broad-based “foundation training” before going on to train in a chosen specialty. The majority of foundation trainees will spend four to six months in ED as part of the second year of this generic training, gaining valuable experience in the assessment and management of the acutely unwell or injured patient. Those choosing to go on to specialise in EM spend a further six years in training, mainly working in the ED. Trainees in other acute specialties or general practice also spend time here – either during a six-month placement, or when attending on-call for another specialty. The ED therefore plays an important role in both foundation and specialty training for the majority of UK doctors. Decision making and medical training

Clinical decision making is a key component of the curriculum for both foundation and specialty trainees. The Foundation Programme (2016) aims to develop junior doctors’ decision making skills, identifying these as central to evolving clinical leadership and professional responsibility. Specialty training in EM is also concerned with decision making, but in a broader sense, and the curriculum includes related ideas such as clinical judgement, reasoning and critical thinking, recognising these as core competencies (Royal College of Emergency Medicine [RCEM], 2015). This chapter uses the term decision making to refer to this broader set of concepts. In order to understand how junior doctors learn to make decisions in the ED, it is necessary to first explore the nature of decision making. Two alternative perspectives from the literature are now considered, which could broadly be described as “the cognitive perspective” and “the narrative perspective” on this process.

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The cognitive perspective Croskerry (2000) argues that of the three major skill domains necessary for medical practice – procedural, affective, and cognitive – most of the EP’s time is spent in the cognitive domain. The more obvious, visible aspects of EM may be the practical ones – such as putting a dislocated shoulder back in joint or resuscitating a patient – but the main workload is around thinking and deciding. This workload may involve thousands of decisions per shift (Weingart, 2009), such as whether to scan a patient with abdominal pain, whether to start antibiotics on an unwell child or whether a frail elderly patient requires admission. Each case involves multiple questions that require clinical judgement. Cognitivism dominates the contemporary discourse around decision making, and is the “belief that much of human behaviour can be understood if we understand first how people represent and process information” (Sternberg and Ben-Zeev, 2001:29). A number of cognitive models seek to explain decision making, but it is firstly helpful to consider the historical context in which these began to influence our understanding. Historical setting

Traditionally, medical degrees began with basic science, based around an assumption that this fundamental knowledge could be later applied to clinical problems at the bedside (Mandin, Jones,Woloschuk and Harasym, 1997). However, as Fish and Coles (1998) suggest, much of this theory was either irrelevant to later practice, or had been forgotten by the time it was useful. Addressing this, an integrated approach began in the 1950s, with systembased curricula and an increasing interest in problem solving (Mandin et al., 1997). This led to the introduction of problem-based learning, a case-based pedagogical approach in which students develop knowledge integrated with the exploration of a clinical problem, with the expectation that they would, simultaneously, develop clinical reasoning skills. As Norman (2000:S127) explains, underlying this approach was an assumption that clinical reasoning skills were “general and content independent”. However, later research demonstrated poor generalisation across cases, raising questions about how best to teach critical thinking. The dominant model of clinical decision making during this period was based on a similar understanding of how the scientific method applies to clinical practice. The hypothetico-deductive model

The hypothetico-deductive method involves the clinician “generating . . . hypotheses early in the diagnostic process and using them to guide subsequent collection of data” (Elstein and Schwarz, 2002). Hypotheses are then tested

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against clinical and laboratory findings, and thus supported or discarded. This model is the systematic and time-honoured process junior doctors are taught to use in their day-to-day work: generating possible diagnoses, considering the tests necessary to make or exclude a diagnosis and carefully reviewing the list with any new data (Groopman, 2007:33). Baron (2008:54) explains this model is reflected in ward rounds, clinical notes and meetings, and is thus firmly embedded in medical culture. However, as Hamm (1988:79) describes, it is less clear that this kind of deliberate analysis is actually being used in practice: “When an expert sees a patient . . . it is not evident that any ‘reasoning’ is being used at all. The clinician seems to know what to do after a few questions”. There are a number of other criticisms of this model. Humans are vulnerable to errors in probability estimation and can overlook the ‘pre-test probability’, ignoring the context of the individual case (Koehler, Brenner and Griffin, 2002). Data interpretation requires computation, and as Mahner and Bunge (in Rashotte and Carnevale, 2004) argue, humans do not function like computers: they find problems and think of ways to solve them. Although clinicians may be good at identifying the problem and rapidly generating hypotheses, the model does not describe how they do this, glossing over this phenomenon. As Vincent (2010:333) describes, the “orderly vision of rational actors weighing up and balancing choices” does not necessarily translate to expert decision makers in the field. In these uncertain environments, multiple high-stake decisions often have to be made without time for deliberation. Recognition primed decision making

Klein (1998:25) studied senior firefighters in complex emergency situations, and was surprised to discover that decisions were often made without considering the options, a process he termed “recognition-primed decision making”. Similarly, in clinical practice “intuitive judgement distinguishes the expert from the novice” (Thompson, 1999:1224) – the ability to make a quick decision in uncertainty. But how does the novice gain intuition? And can it be taught? Kahneman (2011:237) reminds us that intuition is simply pattern recognition, and all humans make powerful automatic associations as “a norm of mental life”.What is required is that a situation is recognised, or in other words, that the decision maker has experience. Experience allows the expert to learn patterns with which to compare the situation before them – having seen many people with a Colles fracture, for instance, with a characteristic ‘dinner fork’ deformity at the wrist, the experienced clinician can make the diagnosis instantly. Croskerry (2009b:e172) explains that the ability of pattern recognition to succeed in this way depends on the “signal-to-noise ratio”, where “signal” is the important data and “noise” is surrounding information. Certain presentations have a clear “signal” and the diagnosis is easily identified, whilst others, such as

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abdominal pain, have many potential diagnoses and the signal is not so clear. Noise can be distracting and a source of bias. In an ambiguous case signal and noise overlap, and intuition starts to run into problems. In this kind of environment, cognitive shortcuts thrive. As Kahneman (2011) explains, our powerful associative mind can substitute a difficult question for an easier one. Faced with diagnostic uncertainty, for example, EPs might use the “Rule Out Worst Scenario” heuristic or ‘rule of thumb’ (Weingart, 2009:210). The diagnosis is a more complicated question than “is it safe to send this person home?” Simplifying a complex situation makes it easier to deal with cognitively, but it is a trade-off that can introduce error – a search that focuses on the worst case scenario might miss a rarer diagnosis. As Kahneman (2011:28) explains, “errors of intuitive thought are difficult to prevent” and instead suggests we aim to “recognise situations in which mistakes are likely and try harder to avoid significant mistakes when the stakes are high”. Experience is gained over many hours spent on the floor, but what can be taught is some level of insight into these cognitive vulnerabilities, which may help to avoid error. We cannot rely on intuition alone: where there is uncertainty, poor signal or surrounding noise, we need to resort to a more analytical approach. In first considering analysis, or the hypothetico-deductive model, it was found to lack an intuitive element; then considering intuition, or pattern recognition, it is clear that analysis is needed to complement it. The dominant model in cognitive psychology is now one in which these two ways of thinking work together. Dual system reasoning

In this model, System 1 is the rapid, automatic, intuitive system; System 2 is the “conscious, reasoning self that has beliefs, makes choices, and decides what to think about and what to do” (Kahneman, 2011:20). System 1 is where pattern recognition takes place; System 2 is where analysis and deliberation occur. The dual process model describes the cognitive processes used in EM in a way that is recognisable: a blend of rapid decisions and more careful deliberations (Croskerry, 2009a). It highlights the limitations of human decision making: mental shortcuts predispose us to bias and error, but are necessary because our ability to analyse is limited and easily overwhelmed. In highlighting these constraints, the model offers a valuable insight – and emphasises the need for metacognitive skills to better understand and monitor our thoughts and intuitions. However, in focusing on thinking, on what is going on inside the mind of the clinician at the moment of decision, there is a sense that something is missing from the cognitive perspective. Decisions are not being made in a vacuum; the clinician is reasoning about another person – the patient. An alternative perspective that addresses this is that of narrative-based medicine.

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The narrative perspective Narrative-based medicine acknowledges the central importance of the patient’s story in clinical practice (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz, 1999), and as such offers a different understanding of how decisions are made and the skills required. As Montgomery (2006:60) points out, “diagnosis requires a retrospective understanding of events”, and in most cases, the prime source of information is the patient’s story. The clinical encounter usually starts with what is fundamentally an historical account of events. The narrator is the patient, or a friend or relative, and “these different viewpoints affect how the story is told”. (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz, 1999:48). This adds an important new dimension to our discussion; any diagnostic decision not only depends on the clinician, but also on the narrator’s perception and memory of events. This subjectivity goes further, however, as Greenhalgh and Hurwitz (1999:48) explain: “taking a history is an interpretive act; interpretation (the discernment of meaning) is central to the analysis”. This is a different kind of analysis that is perhaps more akin with literary interpretation than the scientific method; individual clinicians might ‘read the story’ in quite different ways. Conclusions drawn will depend on not just which questions have been asked, but how they have been asked, the answers given (which evolve as the story is re-told and refined) and the clinicians’ interpretation of what is being told. The evolving story means that clinical reasoning has to be fluid. As Fleming and Mattingly (2008:58) explain, when clinicians use narrative reasoning, “clinical problems and treatment activities are organised in their minds as an unfolding drama”. By understanding the patients and their motives (the characters), and how they got to where they are (the plot), clinicians can anticipate where the story is heading next. Fleming and Mattingly (2008:58) argue that this kind of narrative reasoning “constitutes a form of meaning making which is pervasive in human activity”. Narrative is a natural way for humans to experience the world, to think and to communicate. It is how patients experience their illness, and it allows us to see things from their perspective. The chronological nature of narrative lends itself to decision making, because, as Montgomery (2006:58) explains, diagnosis is a search for a cause, and causality is something that can only be understood in temporal terms. Physicians, she explains, have a rich catalogue of “causal sequences” or “clinical plots” in which related events unfold: an unwell child attends nursery, handles a toy and passes it to another child, who becomes infected with the virus, vomits, stops drinking and becomes dehydrated. Here, a string of causation has led to this child’s illness; the narrative provides a deeper understanding of what has happened, which leads to a diagnosis. By focusing on the phenomenon of history taking, the narrative perspective provides an alternative understanding of decision making, and how it might be learnt. Communication and interpretation skills are essential here, as is an understanding of the context and uniqueness of the individual case. With these

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insights, the narrative perspective offers an understanding of medicine that would view it as a socially situated practice.

Learning theory In seeking to understand more about decision making, relevant learning theory will now be considered, focusing on the social context of ED, its complexity and its inherent uncertainty. Situated learning

Adults generally learn in settings where they fulfil a certain role; they need knowledge and skills tuned a particular task and environment, and so learning is “integrally related to the solution and understanding of real-life problems” (Kaufman and Mann, 2007:44). Therefore, problem solving (decision making) and learning go hand in hand. In an environment such as the ED, full of “reallife” problems, learning is sure to flourish. This is ‘context’ where “persons acting and the social world of activity cannot be separated” (Lave, 1993:4), rather than a narrower definition that views context as merely the environment surrounding activity. The wider definition views the person as part of the social world, rather than simply being in it, and considers learning and activity occurring together, as continually changing “cultural, social products” (Lave, 1993:8). Situated learning refers to this transformative process in which learners become increasingly more involved in a “community of practice” by the process of “legitimate peripheral participation” (Lave and Wenger, 1991:29). “Newcomers” – for example, the junior doctors in the ED – are involved in the activities of the community from the outset; in this case, they find themselves almost immediately involved in providing emergency care. Initially their role is limited (their participation is peripheral) and they are supported to make decisions safely. As they learn through the social process of becoming a full participant (or specialist), they take on increasingly more responsibility. Billett (2002) explains that learning through participation involves engagement in activities, with access to support and guidance. Success is determined by the opportunities and activities offered by the workplace, the quality of guidance provided and the individual learner’s engagement in the process. Learning here is ‘situated’ in the wider definition of context: more than just taking part, ‘participation’ involves the social process of being and becoming. This results in the “development of knowledgeably skilled identities” and the “reproduction and transformation of communities of practice” (Lave and Wenger, 1991:55). Not only are practitioners evolving themselves, but the process also enables the community to regenerate. Employing junior doctors in the ED is not just about education or service provision; rather it is a necessity for EM to exist.

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Learning takes place through conversations about ongoing activity and the sharing of past experiences (Lave and Wenger, 2002:121). Here, narratives are essential; they are the medium by which a learner becomes a decision maker. Evans et al. (2010:247) explains this takes place as learners incorporate new knowledge “gleaned from working with more experienced people” by means of “learning conversations” and “war stories”. Narrative is used by doctors to describe cases as they happen, often when trying to make a decision about what to do next. They might also share stories of a difficult night shift, recount a complex patient with a surprising diagnosis or tell tales of their triumphs or disasters – building a complex web of shared experience. Discussions with nursing staff can reveal an alternative narrative, adding another dimension. All of this ‘consulting’ is fundamental to the way in which the ED functions, as well as fulfilling an educational role. So learning and practice – and decision making – are part of the same social process. Situated learning illuminates the complex social world of the ED with a basis on which to understand this relationship. Indeed, Lave and Wenger (1991:34) describe it as “a bridge” between the cognitive perspective and the social practice perspective; learning is a byproduct of the “primary generative phenomenon” of social practice. But where does this leave the learner? By considering learning a byproduct of practice, there is the implication that the learner just has to get on with it. This is probably not too far from the experience of being a junior doctor in a busy ED. However, to understand what becoming a full participant means we need to understand more about the nature of decision making practice that is required, given the complexity and uncertainty that is inherent in EM. Professional artistry

The rise of the scientific approach brought with it an increasing mistrust of personal judgement, in favour of objective scientific fact, giving rise to an understanding of professional practice termed ‘Technical-Rationalism’ (Schön, 1983:31). In this model, the practitioner looks to science external to practice for knowledge; and practice is merely the application of this science. The ‘professional artistry’ view, in contrast, acknowledges that professional practice takes place in the “complex and less certain ‘real world’ ”, which requires decision making capability that cannot be easily predetermined, described or measured (Fish and Coles, 1998:32). Rather than simply delivering the scientific product, the professional exercises autonomy – and may need to adapt their approach depending on the situation. Here, there is a sense that a flexible and dynamic spontaneity is needed to meet the challenges of the unpredictable, unique and constantly evolving ‘real world’ scenario. In the ED, an intoxicated young man who has been hit over the head with a bottle and who is uncooperative may not meet any of usual criteria for a scan, but something about him

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is ‘not quite right’. It is this ‘grey area’ of clinical practice that is overlooked by a technical-rational view of professionalism. Fish and Coles (1998:34) describe the nature of what is required: practice that looks the wholeness of a situation whilst appreciating the subtleties within. The clinician, like an artist, is involved in something creative – the answer to the problem requires a new way of thinking, or careful adjustment and refinement of the old. Because every patient is individual, this novel rethinking is an iterative process. Thus practice and its development occur hand in hand; doing and learning are part of the same process. Reflection-in-action

Schön (1983:42) acknowledges that much of professional practice takes place in this uncertain real world where problems are different from those in textbooks; this he calls “the swampy lowland, where situations are confusing messes incapable of technical solution”. An alternative kind of knowledge – derived from practice – is needed, but this is problematic, because much of it is tacit or unknown to those who use it. Schön (1983:49) describes this as “knowing-in-action” because the knowledge is only evident through the action of practitioners. These professionals naturally consider, examine, or review their practice in real-time, which Schön (1983:62) calls “reflection-in-action”, noting this is “central to the art through which practitioners deal with the troublesome ‘divergent’ situations of practice”. When junior doctors come across a case that is complex, they often write a ‘problem list’. Not only does this help to search for a solution, but also as Schön (1983:129) explains, in this kind of situation “there is a problem in finding the problem” and so this is an important first step. What follows is a process of “onthe-spot” experimentation, and a “framing experiment” in which solutions are tried and in doing so further elements come to light (Schön 1983:63). As the situation evolves with the experimentation, the clinicians learn more about the individual case, the way forward becomes clearer. In the ED, this process occurs through discussion, information gathering, revision of opinions and trial of further interventions. So, for a patient with a high fever who has recently travelled, initial discussions might focus on the diagnosis of possible malaria. Later information might reveal no evidence of malaria, and instead he is treated for pneumonia, and investigated for a newly found immunodeficiency. Both problem and solution evolve dynamically: “the unique and uncertain situation comes to be understood through the attempt to change it, and changed through the attempt to understand it” (Schön 1983:132). Understanding and changing – or learning and deciding – occur together. So, learning is part of the transformative process of becoming through practice; whilst practice is characterised by the need for creativity, reflection, and development: learning. In this way, the practice and learning of decision making

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are interwoven, and a deeper understanding of this interaction within EM is worthy of further investigation.

Exploring workplace based learning in the ED Aim

To explore the nature of workplace based learning in the ED from the perspective of both trainees and trainers. How does learning occur in this complex environment, and in particular how do doctors learn to make decisions? Setting

This study was set in an ED in inner London, with around 100,000 new attendances per annum.The ED is part of a district general hospital, rather than a larger referral centre, and therefore typical of the majority of hospitals in the UK. Each academic year, a total of 40 junior doctors spend four to 12 months in the department. These include 24 foundation trainees (FTs), in the second year of training post qualification; and 16 specialty trainees (STs), in the next stage of training, in either EM, or General Practice. Final-year medical students (MSs) are also attached to the department for a month at a time. Fully trained EPs provide supervision and teaching, much of it ‘on the shop-floor’. Method

A qualitative study was carried out using a semi-structured interview (Appendix 12.1). Ethics approval was not required. Volunteers were invited from the current trainers (EPs) and trainees (STs, FTs and MSs) working in the ED in November 2017. Ten participants volunteered, as described in Table 12.1. Table 12.1  Details of participants Participant

Gender

Educational role

Time spent in role

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Female Female Female Female Male Female Male Male Female Female

EP, trainer EP, trainer EP, trainer EP, trainer EP, trainer ST FT FT MS MS

10+ Years 9 years 9 years 5 years 8 months 6 months 4 months 1 year 1 month 1 month

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Interviews lasted around 30 minutes, and explored workplace based learning in the ED in general, and specifically ‘on the shop-floor’. The relationship between education and practice was discussed, as were the characteristics of the environment. Participants were specifically asked how doctors learn decision making in ED. Interviews were recorded, transcribed and analysed by collating and categorising responses to identify themes, and comparing responses from trainers and trainees to explore their differing perspectives. Results

Participants provided an insight into the intertwining nature of learning and practice in the ED, and four main themes were identified as outlined next. Quotations are included to illustrate the variety of responses. Learning through practice

All participants described learning through the very act of working in ED, one EP explaining that: “seeing patients, working out the problem, solving it; there is a lot of learning involved”. Trainees similarly understood the “whole job” as a learning process, “learning and practice [being] almost synonymous”. The alternative, classroom based learning, was seen to have a place, but, as one trainee put it, “I don’t think it compares to dealing with something, first hand, in the moment.” Experience gained through practice was considered by one trainee as essential to deal with the “huge grey area” of uncertainty inherent to EM. An EP explained that a wide clinical exposure was necessary to deal with this uncertainty because: we want medical students to become doctors with a clinical “gut” . . . so if you see a patient and the diagnosis isn’t clear, there is an instinct something is not quite right . . . and also the confidence to know when someone is well. The importance of feedback, support or guidance was highlighted by most participants, and one EP explained that this readily available support provided “the opportunity to ask questions and learn in a safe environment”, thus facilitating learning. Support meant that trainees felt they were able to deal with the steep learning curve of “being thrown into seeing your own patients from day one” . . . “because you can get stuck in, do the best you can with the confidence that there are people around to help if you need anything”. A trainee and an EP both explained that at busier times, there might be less immediately available support, but those situations, although challenging, required the clinician to push the boundaries of their practice, and were in themselves a learning opportunity.

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Guidance and supervision

For most trainees, working in the ED was their first opportunity to make independent decisions, albeit with supervision and support, provided through one-to-one discussion or review with senior colleagues. Initially this was mandatory, to ensure safe practice. The learning offered by these consultations was enhanced by a particular approach: encouraging junior doctors to “think through their own problem solving”, and “reason it out themselves”, rather than a senior doctor simply telling them what to do. This helped build confidence and enhanced development along the road to autonomous practice. One trainee described the process as learning by “trial and error . . . an iterative way of working” in which feedback from senior doctors provided further opportunity to rethink and refine decisions made. One EP felt that feedback was best when senior EPs explained what they would do, and why, “communicating not just decisions but also how you came to them, demonstrating your mental model and allowing it to be challenged”. EPs described how they used these discussions constructively; for example, allowing junior doctors to demonstrate their knowledge, referring to guidelines and relating broader knowledge to the case in real-time. There was the opportunity to explore not just how to solve a problem, but how to identify it in the first place, and to demonstrate how to deal with uncertainty when there was no clear solution. One trainee did note that “the more you learn the more independent you become, and in a way that brings its own ceiling – with less inquisition comes less learning”; highlighting a need to consider alternative ways of learning as trainees progress. Social learning

The social nature of EM was evident. Participants described impromptu group activity, one EP explaining, “you might be reviewing an interesting X-ray, and turn that into a collective learning opportunity, involving others in the vicinity”. These opportunistic discussions allowed not only learning to be shared, but also advice or ideas to be sought from the group. There were other, more defined opportunities for shared learning, for instance at morning handover, a necessity for safe practice as well as being a learning event. There was evidence of peer to peer learning, as junior doctors shared what they had learnt from their differing experiences. In an emergency situation, clinicians worked together and learnt through teamwork, observation and shared decision making. One EP explained that this could be “turned into a gold standard learning opportunity if you pull the room into a debrief ”, allowing for reflection and discussion about what had occurred.

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The ED had recently moved away from didactic teaching, mainly due to service pressures, and replaced this with e-learning and shop-floor based micro-teaching sessions involving the whole multidisciplinary team. EPs were concerned that junior doctors might not view this as teaching. However, trainees greatly welcomed the micro-teaching, and were now involved in the delivery of this themselves, providing an opportunity to share individual learning on a daily basis. Simulation was also being used to great effect. Situating these sessions in the clinical area seemed to have enhanced the value placed on learning in that environment. Opportunities and environment

Demand for the service was significant and this was seen as both a challenge and an opportunity by one EP: “the fact you always have something different coming through the front door makes it a very ripe environment for learning, if people are stimulated by variety, then it’s about the best place you could possibly be”. However, the associated workload often constrained the ability to maximise learning opportunities. One EP specifically highlighted lack of time to discuss the evidence behind decisions when it was busy. Another was concerned that stress caused by the challenges of the workplace was detrimental to learning, but also, to an extent, saw this as part of the learning – dealing with stress, managing time and maintaining personal resilience were considered important non-technical skills to be learnt in this environment. Trainees, however, appreciated the clinical nature of EM, compared to the administrative work they did on the wards. The rapid turnaround of patients and results meant that answers came back quickly, so there was the opportunity to refine decisions with new information.

Discussion Practice is learning

The knowledge and experience gained in supported practice is a key feature of learning in the ED, and from the cognitive perspective, essential to developing ‘a clinical gut’ – instinct – or knowing what to do in uncertainty. By dealing with many diverse cases, trainees are provided with the first-hand exposure necessary to develop pattern recognition and a powerful, intuitive System 1 (Kahneman, 2011). Practice also provides the opportunity to try out and refine the critical thinking needed for a better analytical System 2, and there is evidence that both pattern recognition and analysis are being used and developed in this environment.

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Here, trainees were immersed in situated learning, with a real focus on solving ‘real life’ problems through legitimate peripheral participation in clinical decision making. As Billett (2002) describes, the educational value of this kind of workplace based learning depends on the opportunities provided, the quality of support and the learner’s engagement. There was clear evidence of all of these features in the responses provided, and of significant learning taking place. There was a sense that learning was to be had by ‘just getting on with the job’, and that problem solving or decision making were the job, but they were also part of the learning process. As Billett (2016:127) explains, through “just doing it”, “procedural, conceptual and dispositional knowledge is acquired”. This specialist, situated clinical knowledge is present in the context of the ED and acquired through participation, and its tacit nature means that aspects of it may not be straight forward to teach. As decision making can be intuitive, there are aspects of it that can probably only understood by encountering multiple examples through practice. Participation, however, is not really just doing it, as Billett (2002) explains: describing workplace learning as ‘informal’ or ‘unstructured’ is inaccurate; in fact, the structure of workplace activity is often intentionally organised or designed around learning. We can see this in the ED, where supervision is structured and mandatory for newcomers for a period of time. So both knowledge to be learnt and the pedagogy of the workplace are specialised, and guidance and supervision are a central component of this structure. The cognitive conversation

Much of the learning in the ED takes place through a clinical conversation about a case in real-time, which is a key component of guidance and supervision provided by the senior EPs. The primary aim of this discussion is clinical decision making, but it is clear that the process is educational. Strategies to maximise its educational impact were offered by both trainers and trainees. Since clinical thinking is mainly invisible, there is need to “surface, explain, explore and refine the details of thinking behind medical decisions” (Fish and de Cossart, 2007:120). The cognitive conversation provides the opportunity to bring clinical reasoning to the surface, and to explore potential options on the spot, thus allowing clinicians to express, develop and critique their System 2 or analytical approach to a case (Croskerry, 2000). From a narrative perspective, these conversations are essential both in order to share the key historical information about a case, and to allow trainee and trainer to interpret this information (Greenhalgh and Hurwitz, 1999). Both decision making and learning are thus embedded within the context of the unfolding clinical scenario in ED, as clinicians live through the case ‘in the moment’. This is very much a process of “reflection-in-action”; Schön (1983:130) describes a similar process as a “reflective conversation with a unique and uncertain situation”. This kind of teaching is enhanced by the teacher providing an

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opportunity for the trainee to reason aloud and critiquing their approach. In order to make the most of this reflection, however, this is followed by “reflection-on-action”, in which the situation is reviewed post hoc, and learning points considered (Schön, 1983:55). All this adds up to a ‘cognitive narrative’, that joins the many narratives contributing to practice and learning in the ED, and allows practitioners to share their understanding. Social learning and intersubjectivity

EM is a socially situated practice in multiple dimensions, with its many interactions and layers of complexity. Learning occurs through these interactions, often purposefully, at times in an ad hoc fashion, at times in a more planned way, such as handover. Many of these interactions took place in the form of narratives or anecdotes. As well as learning through participation, in this ED there was evidence of large group teaching and simulation occurring on the shop-floor on a regular basis. Here, teaching was purposely delivered in context, and this had clearly had an impact on the value placed on the teaching, and the willingness of doctors to participate, which seemed in part to be due to a sense of joint ownership. As well as shared learning, clinicians often worked together, particularly in an emergency, often in an uncertain and rapidly evolving scenario. Billett (2014) describes the need for ‘intersubjectivity’ in these situations – a shared understanding allowing for shared intuition and decision making when there little to time to stop and talk (or think), providing an alternative definition of social learning in which learning is about better co-working rather than better thinking; the team learning, rather than the individual. Non-technical skills are essential to achieve this, in particular “communication, collective decision making, stress and workload management, situational awareness and cross-monitoring” (Cosby, 2009). Simulation is one way in which these areas can be explored (Ker and Bradley, 2007); it is particularly good for rehearsing a team approach to an emergency. An environment for learning

The ED was considered to provide both opportunity and challenge for the learner. Billett (2016:125) describes the “clues and cues” offered by such an environment, which make it an authentic place in which to learn the kind of knowledge required for practice, but also highlights the “limitations, shortcomings and risks”. In the ED, learning can be problematic, especially when demand is high. Goldman et al. (2009) explain that predictability and pace are not really taken into account in models of situated learning, and clearly these have an influence on learning; however, conversely “chaos in emergency departments makes them rich environments for learning”. Chaos is a learning experience in itself,

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but with chaos also comes novelty, variety and sheer numbers of patients, with many decisions to be made, and many stories to be told.

Contribution and implications Good decision making is imperative in EM. In exploring how doctors learn to make decisions in ED, this chapter has journeyed from the mind of the decision maker, to the narrative surrounding the decision, to the social space surrounding both. In doing so it has considered a number of perspectives that illuminate the relationship between learning and practice in this environment, and explored ways in which these might inform our approach to teaching decision making. Well-developed cognitive models were found to describe something of the character of decision making in EM practice. Careful analysis and an understanding of the use of probability estimation is useful, but in reality, experienced clinicians are more likely to use intuitive pattern recognition. However, both of these are prone to error, and so metacognitive skills are necessary to avoid the cognitive pitfalls that can result. Specific training in these would be a worthy addition to specialty training. In focusing on the cognitive, however, a broader consideration of context was missing. The narrative perspective offered a socially situated understanding of practice that acknowledged an interpretive dimension to medical assessment, and the uniqueness of the individual patient.The need for excellent communication skills, narrative interpretation and experience in dealing with the uncertainty associated with an individual case were identified. These are key skills for the medical practitioner, and a structured approach to including narrative in undergraduate and foundation training would be of benefit. Situated learning described the ED as a community in which practice, learning and regeneration occur together. But further clarity was sought about the nature of individual clinical practice, and the need for autonomy and creativity, and ‘reflection-in-action’ were identified, rather than just the delivery of a technical skill. These social practices and their associated learning were clearly identified in discussions with both trainers and trainees in a typical ED. Here there was a culture of a dialogue of supervision and reflection – intrinsic to clinical practice, enabling learning to flourish – so that the practice becomes the learning, and the learning becomes the practice. Clinical decision making, therefore, is cognitive, social, interpretive, creative and flexible. It is not something that can always be planned in advance. Indeed, “thinking is what we do when we do not know what to choose, desire, or believe” (Baron, 2008); it follows that in the ED, with its novel situations full of uncertainty, thinking is what is required. But thinking occurs in the mind, whilst events occur in the world. Montgomery (2006:51) reminds us, that as we “make medical sense of patients’ signs and symptoms and . . . construct, record and report their case histories”, we

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“resemble naturalists rather than laboratory scientists”. It is through this piecing together of narrative that we form a real understanding of the case. Intuition and analysis have their place, but interpretation is essential. In order to develop the necessary skills for good decision making, the opportunities provided by the ED – with its rich, complex context, its inherent uncertainty, and its experienced community – have much to offer the novice as they take the first steps in supported practice. What is needed is ongoing appreciation that this is a social process, allowing the team to make the best of this learning opportunity.

References Baron, J. (2008) Thinking and Deciding (Fourth Edition). New York: Cambridge University Press. Billett, S. (2002) Critiquing workplace learning discourses: Participation and continuity at work. Studies in the Education of Adults 34:56–67. Billett, S. (2014) Securing intersubjectivity through inter professional workplace learning experiences. Journal of Interprofessional Care 28:206–211. Billett, S. (2016) Learning through health care work: Premises, contributions and practices. Medical Education 50:124–131. Cosby, K. (2009) Patient safety curriculum. In Croskerry, P., Cosby, K.S., Schenkel, S.M., and Wears, R.L. (eds.) Patient Safety in Emergency Medicine. Philadelphia: Lippincott Williams  & Wilkins. Croskerry, P. (2000) The cognitive imperative: Thinking about how we think. Academic Emergency Medicine 7:1223–1231. Croskerry, P. (2009a) A universal model of diagnostic reasoning. Academic Medicine 84:1022–1028. Croskerry, P. (2009b) Context is everything or how could i have been that stupid? Healthcare Quarterly 12:e171‑e177. Elstein, A.S. and Schwarz, A. (2002) Clinical problem solving and diagnostic decision making: Selective review of the cognitive literature. BMJ 324:729–732. Evans, K., Guile, D., Harris, J. and Allan, H. (2010) Putting knowledge to work: A new approach. Nurse Education Today 30:245–251. Fish, D. and Coles, C. (1998) Developing Professional Judgement in Health Care. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Fish, D. and De Cossart, L. (2007) Developing the Wise Doctor: A Resource for Trainers and Trainees in MMC. London: Royal Society of Medicine Press. Fleming, H. and Mattingly, C. (2008) Action and narrative: Two dynamics of clinical reasoning. In Higgs, J., Jones, M.A., Loftus, S., and Christensen, N. (eds.) Clinical Reasoning in the Health Professions,Third Edition. Amsterdam: Elsevier. The Foundation Programme. (2016) The Foundation Programme Curriculum 2016. London: UK Foundation Programme Office. Goldman, E., Plack, M., Roche, C., Smith, J. and Turley, C. (2009) Learning in a chaotic environment. Journal of Workplace Learning 21:555–574. Greenhalgh, T. and Hurwitz, B. (1999) Why study narrative? BMJ 318:48–50. Groopman, J. (2007) How Doctors Think. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company.

234  Duncan Thomas Carmichael Hamm, R.M. (1988) Clinical intuition and clinical analysis: Expertise and the cognitive continuum. In Dowie, J., and Elstein, A. (eds.) Professional Judgment: A Reader in Clinical Decision Making. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IFEM. (2012) Framework for Quality and Safety in the Emergency Department. Melbourne: IFEM. Kahneman, D. (2011) Thinking, Fast and Slow. London: Penguin Group. Kaufmann, D.M. and Mann, K.V. (2007) Teaching and Learning in Medical Education: How Theory Can Inform Practice. Edinburgh: Association for the Study of Medical Education (ASME). Ker, J. and Bradley, P. (2007) Simulation in Medical Education. Edinburgh: ASME. Klein, G. (1998) Sources of Power: How People Make Decisions. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Koehler, D.J., Brenner, L. and Griffin, D. (2002) The calibration of expert judgment: Heuristics and biases beyond the laboratory. In Gilovich, T., Griffin, D., and Kahneman, D. (eds.) Heuristics and Biases: The Psychology of Intuitive Judgment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lave, J. (1993) The practice of learning. In Chaiklin, S., and Lave, J. (eds.) Understanding Practice: Perspectives on Activity and Context. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991) Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (2002) Legitimate peripheral participation in communities of practice. In Harrison, R., Reev, F., Hanson, A., and Clarke, J. (eds.) Supporting Lifelong Learning: Perspectives on Learning. London: Routledge Farmer. Mandin, H., Jones, A., Woloschuk, W. and Harasym, P. (1997) Helping students learn to think like experts when solving clinical problems. Academic Medicine 72:173–179. Montgomery, K. (2006) How Doctors Think: Clinical Judgement and the Practice of Medicine. New York: Oxford University Press. Norman, G.R. (2000) The epistemology of clinical reasoning: Perspectives from philosophy, psychology and neuroscience. Academic Medicine 75:S127‑S133. Rashotte, J. and Carnevale, F.A. (2004) Medical and nursing clinical decision making: A comparative epistemological analysis. Nursing Philosophy 5:160–174. RCEM. (2015) Curriculum and Assessment Systems for Training in Emergency Medicine: August 2015 Curriculum. London: RCEM. Schön, D.A. (1983) The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. New York: Basic Books. Sinclair, D. and Croskerry, P. (2010) Patient safety and diagnostic error. Canadian Family Physician 56:28–30. Sternberg, R.J. and Ben-Zeev, T. (2001) Complex Cognition: The Psychology of Human Thought. New York: Oxford University Press. Thompson, C. (1999) A conceptual treadmill: the need for ‘middle ground’ in clinical decision making theory in nursing. Journal of Advanced Nursing 30:1222–1229. Vincent, C. (2010) Patient Safety, Second Edition. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell. Weingart, S. (2009) Critical decision making in chaotic environments. In Croskerry, P., Cosby, K.S., Schenkel, S.M., and Wears, R.L. (eds.) Patient Safety in Emergency Medicine. Philadelphia: Lippincott Williams  & Wilkins. Weingart, S. and Wyer, P. (2006) Emergency Medicine Decision Making: Critical Choices in Chaotic Environments. New York: McGraw-Hill.

Appendix 12.1

Semi-structured interview: questions

What is your role in the Emergency Department (ED) from the point of view of education, and learning? How do clinicians/trainees/students learn in ED? What activities take place in ED that are focused on learning? How does learning take place on the shop-floor? What is the relationship between education and service provision? Or between learning and practice? Are there any features of the environment that contribute to or stand in the way of learning? How does the workplace provide opportunities for learning? What about the culture of ED? Does that contribute to learning and if so, how? Is learning in ED individual or collective? How do doctors learn to make decisions, specifically? What is being done well in relation to learning on the shop-floor? What could be improved? Do you think education in ED is meeting the needs of the trainees?

Chapter 13

Reflections on the occupational practice Sai Loo

Introduction This research monograph, Multiple Dimensions of Teaching and Learning of Occupational Practice, started in the first chapter with an explanation of the objectives of this collection.The main aim was to offer contributions across the three academic levels of work-related or occupational teaching, learning and practices. One of the secondary aims was to envision a new area of education for further investigation and research – occupational education – which encompassed the tripartite dimensions of learning, teaching and working. This final chapter offers several objectives. The first is to draw some tentative themes from the findings, conclusions and implications of the eleven contributions. From these discussions, the next aim is to provide commonalities and diversities of this collection where the multiple related dimensions (as indicated in the title of this research monograph) exist. These dimensions relate to countries/locations, topics and education sectors, and educational (policy (macro), institution/programme (meso) and individually focused (micro) perspectives. The third aspect of this chapter seeks out related publications in this suggested area of occupational education and to impress on potential readers, researchers, academics, occupational practitioners and teachers the potential of this area of education for further consideration. The penultimate goal is to identify the areas for new research. The final aim is to delineate the potential research areas for additional collaborative activities arising from the contributions of this research monograph.

Themes from the chapters In Chapter 2, Lorenz Lassnigg studied the Austrian apprenticeship system, which he suggested was a unique case study of ‘modernised traditionalism’ of a dual apprenticeship system. Lassnigg, using empirical data, showed that the role of occupational categories had a significant impact on the network. This impact included the content, tasks and competencies of the provisions, and the related employers concerning the implementation and governance of

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the political system. In short, the system is represented by a complex web of agentic structures but without the necessary transparent mechanisms to link the educational (institutional) and the work-related (performed) aspects of the occupational system. In Chapter 3, continuing this focus on Vocational Education and Training (VET), Erica Smith concentrated on the Australian study of two seemingly different types of vocational training of machinists/fitters and concrete product operators. The former has a higher public profile and a planned qualification route, and the latter, low public awareness and underdeveloped qualification route. Smith, using analysed interview data from two Australian states, suggested that there were lessons to be learnt for vocational education of similarly skilled jobs but with contrasting ‘brands’. The weaker brand of vocational employment could be boosted by greater visibility and attractiveness of the post and followed by a higher demand from the related employers for employees in this occupation to gain a relevant qualification. This case study of the two vocational jobs is governed by the socio-cultural contexts of the country in which they are located. Selena Chan, in Chapter 4, centred on trade tutors in New Zealand, where she argued that the vocational tutors’ occupational experiences and practice were highly relevant to their becoming teachers.This transition offered insights into how occupational teachers might cross boundaries from a workplace setting to a teaching one using their past occupational experiences. This understanding has implications for their professional development as occupational practitioners and teachers.The findings from this chapter also have implications for vocational teacher education. In Chapter 5, this author studied the pedagogic activities of occupational deliverers across the three academic levels. Drawing from empirical evidence from teachers with practitioners’ experiences from areas ranging from equine studies, dental hygiene to clinical fields using an epistemological approach and four recontextualisation processes, Loo created a typology. This typology of teaching practices offered understandings of the related occupational deliverers’ know-how/capacities including knowledge, abilities and skill sets and codified and tacit forms. In doing so, the typology provided insights for teacher education concerning the types and applications of know-how, CPD at teaching and work institutions and the professionalisation of teachers and occupational practitioners. In Chapter 6, Sallee Caldwell and Melinda Hall investigated the human movement industry in the higher education sector. This industry covers sportsrelated education and training. The authors investigated the work-based learning (WBL) provisions in Australia to indicate how stakeholders’ responsibilities and commitment could be included. Their investigation also showed how learners could develop their employability capacities and how these capacities could be transferred to other occupations in the wide-ranging industry.

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Staying with Australia as a location of study, Jennifer Brooker in Chapter 7 investigated the youth work learners’ experiences of their higher education programmes. Brooker, using comparable studies from Canada, New Zealand, the UK and the USA, relied on analysed interview data to show that there were variations across the different locations. Those on such programmes in Australia might not be acquiring the same skills as in other countries.To enable the acquisition of the relevant skills, Brooker argued that praxis, theory and practice were necessary for these learners to gain sufficient time to practise the learnt theory in supporting work settings. This approach to skills acquisition suggested a new model of delivery would ensure youth work graduates in Australia had similar know-how with their overseas counterparts. In Chapter 8, Konstantinos Karanasios and Thomas Lans investigated the learning process of entrepreneurs in agricultural areas such as aloe production, honey production and olive grove farming in Greece against the backdrop of a financial crisis. Their empirical findings showed that entrepreneurial agency did not adhere to the push-and-pull-factors model but one that reflected the multiple dimensions of individual-specific and situationrelated factors. There were broader issues of a socio-cultural dimension such as trust, power relations, bureaucratic regulations and corruption. At the individual level, learning occurred at the iterative, atypical, non-routinised work-related activities in informal on-the-job settings with little impact from technologies. In Chapter 9, Katrina Morrison provided an integrated affective learning approach to the professionalising of prison officer education at the higher education level in Scotland. Morrison used a programme to illustrate how aspiring prison officers were inducted into this occupation where their attitudes, beliefs and values were given due prominence in this programme. Central to this training and professional development included the intensity of the prison setting together with the emotive aspects of crime, punishment and reintegration. In so doing, the programme offered these prison officers a significant emotional component of their roles in their learning journeys. Claire Thurgate in Chapter 10 studied the problematic transition of healthcare assistants to assistant practitioners in England. Investigating against the backdrop, similar to that in Greece, of the NHS where it had to endure years of austerity, Thurgate evidenced the individual’s transition through the development of coping strategies of ‘reality shock’ and the chaos and unknown of being a learner and occupational practitioner. These learners had to integrate theory, practice and ‘self-regulatory knowledge’. In doing so, they were transformed as clinicians with increased self-confidence and belief.This transformative process had implications for the workplace, especially for mentors and that these organisations would need to be ready to embrace such transformative practices and values for learners, clinical practitioners, and organisations to function effectively. From her investigation, Thurgate has created a conceptual framework to describe a compelling journey of healthcare assistants to becoming assistant practitioners.

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In Chapter 11, Stephen Billett and Linda Sweet focused on medical students’ training experiences in Australia. Billett and Sweet used the concepts of participatory practices of experiences or affordances and individuals’ responses to them or engagement. Drawing on the clinicians’ occupational experiences, capacities, values and interests, the contributors provided understandings of how curriculum and the ordering and enactment of the learners’ experiences facilitated their understandings of learning (through observations, modelling, and problem-based pedagogic activities) and practice settings. In highlighting the rich learning experiences of these medical students, Billett and Sweet emphasised the significant roles of teachers in organising and supporting their clinical learners. Chapter 12 saw Duncan Thomas Carmichael’s study of how Emergency Medicine physicians made decisions concerning their patients in Accident and Emergency settings in England. Carmichael argued that these physicians worked not in scientific settings but social science environments where situated learning of practice, learning and regeneration co-existed. Additionally, he suggested that these clinicians required more than mere technical skill but creativity and ‘reflection-in-action’ where such social practices and the related learning went hand-in-hand with qualified EM physicians, trainers and trainees. Dialogical and reflective approaches were intrinsic to this occupational practice. For him, EM practice is cognitive, social, interpretive, creative and flexible and it should occur in a supportive community that supports novices to start learning to be physicians.

Commonalities, diversities and multiple dimensions of the collection This section aims to bring together the findings and conclusions of the contributions to seek out commonalities, diversities and multiple dimensions. The central common themes running through this research monograph are work and how work-related provisions contribute to the teaching, learning and working of the occupational stakeholders. Chan in Chapter 4, Loo in Chapter 5, and Brooker in Chapter 7 investigated the teaching aspects. From the learning perspective, the proponents included Smith in Chapter 3, Caldwell and Hall in Chapter 6, Karanasios and Lans in Chapter 8, Morrison in Chapter 9,Thurgate in Chapter 10 and Billett and Sweet in Chapter 11. Lassnigg in Chapter 2 and Carmichael in Chapter 12 studied the relationships between work settings. Some of these contributions might not have fitted neatly into one of the tripartite dimensions, for example, the investigations by Caldwell and Hall on human movement provisions covered perspectives of teaching, learning and working. Within this common work-related theme, there are divergences and multiple dimensions. One relates to the academic levels. The researchers in Chapters 2 to 5 covered the pre-university or (Technical and Vocational Education and

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Training) TVET levels, Chapters 6 to 9, higher education, and Chapters 10 to 12, clinical or professional education. One could make a case that higher and professional education and training are merely academic distinctions and in reality, the differences are too subtle for clear delineations. In the UK, vocational education is not usually viewed as work-related provisions that include the three academic levels. This artificial division of academic levels for VET is not the case in the Continent (Europe), and South Africa where such academic distinctions are absent. In the case of this monograph, Morrison’s contribution in Chapter 9 on prison officer education could be argued that this was professional training rather than higher education depending on one’s conceptualisation of higher and professional education.The next section will offer additional ideas concerning the levels. The second divergent theme and another dimension refer to locations. The geographical areas of the contributions included Australia (Chapters 3, 6, 7 and 11), Austria (Chapter 2), England (Chapters 5, 10 and 12), Greece (Chapter 8), New Zealand (Chapter 4) and Scotland (Chapter 9). With these different locations, the investigations have their related socio-cultural and economic dimensions. However, one may suggest that some of the findings may have global implications than others, and this aspect will be revisited in greater depth later. The third dimension and divergences relate to the topic of investigation (in addition to the three sectors of TVET, higher and professional). The diversities of subject included apprenticeships (Chapter 2), occupational preparation of fitters/machinists and concrete operators (Chapter 3), education of occupational teachers (Chapters 4 and 5), education and training of aspiring workers/ professionals/entrepreneurs (Chapters 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11) and training of physicians (Chapter 12). Finally, another dimension concerns the different levels of interaction. Here, I refer to the macro (national, transnational and global), meso (institution) and micro (individual). If the contributions were viewed from the tripartite dimensions, the macro dimension would include the contributions from Chapters 2 and 3 on apprenticeships in Austria and occupational preparation in two Australian states, respectively. The meso dimension included those from Chapters 6 on human movement courses, Chapter 7 on a youth training programme and Chapter 9 on prison service higher education provision. The micro dimension included trade tutors in Chapter 4, occupational deliverers in Chapter 5, learners of agricultural fields in Chapter 8, boundary crossing of healthcare assistants to assistant practitioners in Chapter 10, medical students in Chapter 11 and Emergency Medicine physicians in Chapter 12. In summary, the multiple dimensions of this research monograph concerning the overall theme of occupational/work-based practices covered academic levels, geographical locations, topics of investigations and levels of interactions. The multiple dimensions of occupational education of this research monograph should be seen with related ones to ascertain the development of workrelated training as a field of study. The next section offers an overview of this development.

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Related publications Since the 1990s, there has been a steady trend of researchers focusing on workrelated themes as a field of study. These themes might be classified into four types irrespective of the chronological ordering of the publication dates. This typology is not intended to be a comprehensive literature survey but merely a useful guide to ascertaining the significant developments in this field. The first type may be broadly classified as VET-related. Publications by Kincheloe (1998), Clarke and Winch (2007), Maclean and Wilson (2009), Cutts, Falk and Wallace (2011) and Zhao and Rauner (2014) offered better understandings of the diversity of TVET as a research field. Kincheloe (1998) provided economic and political perspectives of work in the VET area. Clarke and Winch (2007) offered a policy perspective of historical developments in various countries. Cutts et al. (2011) covered the theoretical aspects of vocational learning from Europe, North America and Australia. Zhao and Rauner (2014) focused on research and research methods of TVET on a global perspective, and Maclean and Wilson (2009) provided a comprehensive global view of TVET in their sixvolume edited book. This type of research of work-related education included multiple dimensions ranging from worldwide, and economic and political to research methodological perspectives. The second type of publications was carried out by Kennedy, Billett, and Gherardi (2015) and Johnson, Maclean and Pavlova (2016). The primary focus of these publications was in higher education. Kennedy et al. (2015) used a specific conceptual framework of integrated practice-based learning with supporting case studies to delineate work learning in the sector. Johnson et al. (2016) centred on macro perspectives of occupational provisions in higher education. The contributions were from three continents. The third type of publications was relevant for professional education and training, and the leading proponents were Schön (1990), and Trede and McEwen (2016). The former used a conceptual framework of ‘reflection-in-action and reflection-on-action’ to investigate the contextual aspects of professional experience, where the latter used ‘pedagogy of deliberateness’ to understanding professional practices and education. To date, the three types of publications are confined to the relevant academic levels. The next type of publications offers a wider perspective. The fourth type of publications is represented by Higgs, Barnett, Billett, Hutchings and Trede (2012). Their collection consists of empirical-based and practice-based experiences across the three academic levels. This publication is a significant attempt to define occupational practice as a field of study despite its emphasis on ‘practice-based’ education. From my perspective, the term ‘practice-based education’ has connotations of repetitive activities that are centred on manual dexterity and may not give equal emphasis to cognitive approach or integrative approach of cognitive and manual practices. If this is true, the term does not offer an accurate picture of the complexity of occupational education, as both aspects – cognitive and manual dexterity – should

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be the basis for research. In this regard, this edited collection suggests that the term, ‘occupational education’ is a possible field of study and research. With this typology in mind, the next section intends to identify some potential areas for investigation.

Areas for further research This final chapter has so far delineated the conclusions and findings from the contributions, discussed the commonalities and multiple dimensions of the occupational education, and identified the developments of work-related research from the 1990s to date. In this penultimate section, it would be helpful to develop the area of occupational education as a research area and in so doing, aimed to identify areas for further study. The list includes (by no means privileging one area over another): • • • • • • • • • • • • •

economic and financial perspectives political dimensions historical aspects of policy development academic levels (TVET, higher and professional) locations and settings comparative studies application of specific and varied conceptual frameworks the wellbeing of stakeholders such as learners, teachers and practitioners management-related themes institutional aspects programme-related aspects such as curriculum development, formation and implementation continuous professional development and (initial) training roles and activities of teachers, educators/trainers, practitioners, etc.

Potential research areas arising from this collection This final section comes full circle from summarising the findings and conclusion of the chapters to discussing the trends of occupational education and some possible areas for further research and back to the chapters. Some of the contributions may offer more extensive applications than ascertained by the researchers. I want to highlight five chapters that might provide such claims with an international dimension concerning collaborations and other possibilities. In Chapter 7 Brooker located her study of youth work in Australia with related studies from Canada, New Zealand, the UK and the USA. Here, she offered the possibilities of connecting the praxis, theory and practice for learners to obtain the required skill sets to ensure that they are ready for work. This approach to acquiring occupational capacities focuses on generic and

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transferable skill sets. This approach has relevance for other locations as suggested by her studies. Collaborative and comparative research projects are not beyond comprehension, especially where countries may be moving out of austerity measures and policymakers wishing to address the higher levels of youth unemployment in countries such as Greece, Spain and Portugal. In Chapter 6, Caldwell and Hall studied the sports event management industry in Australia. These WBL programmes, bearing in mind the socio-economic contexts of other countries, could be fine-tuned to contextualise these offers to those countries with a sufficiently developed sector in the area. As with Brooker’s study, this international implication would assist in the much-needed work on unemployment for young people as the findings focused on employment capacities of stakeholders’ needs. Carrying on the theme of unemployment and austerity, Karanasios and Lans in Chapter 8 centred on Greece and the understanding of entrepreneurs’ needs in agricultural areas. The findings of the socio-cultural dimension of the local contexts of trust, power relations, regulations, etc. and the learners’ learning processes would be pertinent to other parts of the world in these difficult times. With this, in particular, the knowledge of the local contexts is relevant to the success or failure of this area of occupational practice. Loo in Chapter 5 offers a different tack to the other three areas of investigation. Here, he centred on occupational teaching activities. His findings in a broader delineation of occupational teaching know-how of knowledge, capacities, skill sets and related experiences along with the typology of pedagogic practices would have purchase in other parts of the globe where occupational education exists. Collaborative and comparative studies might be used to gain more profound insights into these pedagogic activities and the implications for teacher education, teaching and learning are apparent. Thurgate, continuing the austerity theme in Chapter 10, offered critical insights into how healthcare assistants make the transition to becoming assistant practitioners via the occupational offer.The conceptual framework, which was applied in some NHS trusts, might have implications for a more international application where financial and other resources constrain a country’s healthcare system. With some useful adjustments, the earlier five studies, and some might argue other studies featured in this research monograph, might have practical implementation purchase if they are cranked up for global application. I am not saying that any implementation on an international scale does not have its issues, but merely illustrating that the findings in this research monograph can be made to work at a broader context and with it, potential areas exist for greater collaboration and comparative studies. I hope this collection offers a potential new area of study and research in occupational education, which includes the tripartite dimensions of teaching, learning and work. This research monograph has shown that a more encompassing approach to thinking and researching work-related education and

244  Sai Loo

training can be possible. The monograph also showed that occupational education is a further development of the other publications concerning TVET, and practice-based training in the higher and professional sectors. If this collection has offered a platform for debating the broader studies of work-related education and training more holistically, then it is a worthwhile exercise.

References Clarke, L., & Winch, C. (Eds.) (2007) Vocational Education: International Approaches, Developments and Systems. Abingdon: Routledge. Cutts, R., Falk, I., & Wallace, R. (Eds.) (2011) Vocational Learning: Innovative Theory and Practice: Vol. 14 (Technical and Vocational Education and Training: Issues, Concerns and Prospects). Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer. Higgs, J., Barnett, R., Billett, S., Hutchings, M., & Trede, F. (Eds.) (2012) Practice-Based Education: Perspectives and Strategies. Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Johnson, D., Maclean, R., & Pavlova, M. (Eds.) (2016) Vocationalism in Mass Higher Education. Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer. Kennedy, M., Billett, S., & Gherardi, S. (Eds.) (2015) Practice-based Learning in Higher Education: Jostling Cultures (Professional and Practice-based Learning). Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer. Kincheloe, J. (1998) How Do We Tell the Workers? The Socioeconomic Foundations of Work and Vocational Education: Rethinking the Foundations of Vocational Education. New York: Perseus. Maclean, R., & Wilson, D. (Eds.) (2009) International Handbook of Education for the Changing World of Work: Bridging Academic and Vocational Learning: 1–6. Editorial Advisory Board: Unesco-Unevoc Handbooks and Book Series. Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer. Schön, D. (1990) Educating the Reflective Practitioner:Toward a New Design for Teaching and Learning in the Professions. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Trede, F., & McEwen, C. (Eds.) (2016) Educating the Deliberate Professional: Preparing for Future Practices (Professional and Practice-based Learning). Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer. Zhao, Z., & Rauner, F. (Eds.) (2014) Areas of Vocational Education Research. Dordrecht, Heidelberg: Springer.

Index

academic levels 83, 240 adapt, adjust and accommodate 184 adult learning theory 97 advisory/extension services 141 affective 150, 152 – 155, 158 – 161, 163 – 166 affective learning in the Officer Foundation Programme (OFP) 165 affordances 212, 214 agency 144 applied occupational knowledge 76 applied pedagogic knowledge 76 appraisal/appraisers 116, 123 apprenticeships 4, 37 – 38, 61, 66, 236; access to apprenticeships 22; apprenticeship wage 20; cognitive apprenticeships 60, 64, 67; dual apprenticeship 8; mentoring process 67; part-time school for apprentices (Berufsschule) 20; supervision of apprenticeships 46 assessed field placement 124 assistant practitioners 6, 238 attitudes 119 Australia 110 Australian Collaboration Education Network (ACEN) 95 Australian Qualifications Framework (AQF) 93 Austrian corporatism 18 behaviours 119 Billett, S. 6, 200 – 216, 239 blended/flipped classroom 57 boundary crossing 59 Brooker, J. 5, 110 – 130, 238, 242 Caldwell, S. 5, 92 – 109, 237, 243 Canada 110 Carmichael, D. T. 6, 217 – 235, 239

case study 41, 62 Chan, S. 4, 56 – 71, 237 change in self, a 181 clinical judgement 218 clinical practice 217 clinicians 6, 239 cognitive conversation 230 cognitivism 219 commonalities 239 communities of practice 56, 223 community youth work practice 118 competencies/competency-based 38, 49, 138 complex motor skills 67 compulsory membership 31 conceptualisations of teaching and learning 60, 63 conclusion 166 concrete product operators 4, 39, 43 – 44, 46, 237 constructivism 172 content recontextualisation 83 context 223 continuous professional development 88 contributions 127 cooperative 92 corporatist structure 17 coupling approach 12 craft division 25 Critical Incident Technique (CIT) 137 critical thinking 218 curriculum development 76, 128 data analysis 62 decision making 217 – 218 deliberate practice 67 demand for qualification 49 demographic and social profile 111

246 Index disadvantaged young people 22 disengaged 210 distributed cognition 67 diversities 239 dual professionalism 73 dual system reasoning 221 early school leavers 43 economic chamber 17 educational experiences 213 educational pathways 56 education and training qualifications 93 electrical and electronics occupations 29 Emergency Medicine (EM) 217 emergency medicine (EM) physicians 6, 239 emerging framework for describing an effective journey from HCA to AP 179 employer-led 171 employers’ and employees’ representations 20 engagement 211, 214 English vocational education and training 1 entrepreneurs/entrepreneurship 5, 131, 238; agency 134, 138; identity 135; learning 132, 145; necessity 139 environment 229, 231 European and National Qualifications Framework (E/NQF) 18 Exercise and Sports Science Australia (ESSA) 96 experience 220 experiential learning 97 experimenting 142, 145 facilitation 185 failure 146 feedback 211 findings 157 fitters/machinists 4, 42, 44 – 45, 237 formal qualifications 45 Foundation Degree (FD) 170 Foundation Programme 218 Further Education 3 goals 101 graduate outcomes 56 Greece 131 guidance 228 guilds legacy 17 Hall, M. 5, 92 – 109, 237, 243 healthcare assistants 6, 238

hermeneutics 172 higher education/qualifications 49, 95, 99, 106 higher vocational/first-degree 70 high status 37 historical and current comparison 112 human movement programmes 5, 97, 99, 102, 104 – 105, 237 hypothetico-deductive model 219 identity 179 immersion experiences 210 implications 89 individual agency 58 industrial conflict 20 industrial relations 14, 45 industry 125; supervisors 104 industry and banking division 25 Information and Communication Technologies (ICT) 142, 145 initiative 44 institutional affordances 206 integrated affective learning 238 integrated applied recontextualisation 88 intended curriculum 215 intentionalities 200, 215 interaction (different levels) 240; macro 240; meso 240; micro 240 inter-connectedness 89 interdependent 200, 203 interest organizations 31 interpretative analysis 174, 222 intersubjectivity 231 interviews 112 intuition 220 job roles 43 junior doctors 218 Karanasios, K. 5, 131 – 149, 238, 243 know-how 237 knowledge 119, 237; knowledge of educational contexts 86; knowledge of the occupation 88 knowledgeable mentor 181 Lans, T. 5, 131 – 149, 238, 243 Lassnigg, L. 4, 8 – 36, 236 learner and mentor 177; active 179 learner profiles 57 learning as becoming 59 learning culture 183, 185 learning environment 186

Index 247 learning process 134, 182, 184 learning theories 67 learning through practice 227 legitimate peripheral participation 223 letting go of the known 175, 179 literacy and numeracy 41 literature review 152 locations 239 longitudinal integrated curriculum 204 Loo, S. 1 – 7, 72 – 91, 236 – 244 manual workers 4, 237 manufacturing 37, 39 matching approach 12 medical students 6, 239 medical training 218 metal industry 26 methodology 155 mimetic learning 61, 207 model 113 modularization 28 Morrison, K. 5, 150 – 169, 238 moving from the known to the unfamiliar 66 multiple dimensions 239 narrative-based medicine 222 narrative reasoning 222, 224 National University Course Accreditation Program (NUCAP) 96 nature of the job 48 nature of the tasks 48 networks 147 new-comers 133 New Zealand 110 New Zealand (NZ) Institutes of Technology and Polytechnics (ITPs) sector 56 occupational education (OE) 1, 3, 6, 236; areas for further research 242; classification of occupations (ISCO) 32; De-Occupationalization (Entberuflichung) 12; institutionalized occupations 13; manual occupations 42; occupational classifications 11; occupational health and safety 47; occupational identity as trades tutors 57 – 58; occupational information 48; occupational labour 14; occupational profile (Berufsbild) 21; occupational recontextualisation 87; occupational relevance 85; occupational structures

16; performed occupations 9; training occupations 9 occupational practice 3, 236 – 244 occupational teaching 2, 70 ongoing recontextualization 75 ontologies 60, 68 organisation 178 participatory practices 202, 207, 214 pedagogic practices 4, 237 pedagogic recontextualisation 85 personal epistemologies 203, 212, 215 personal histories 203 personal practical knowledge 85 phenomenology 172 post-Bernsteinian researchers 83 practical application 113 practice 211 practice-based experiences 202 presage, process and product factors (3-P) 137 prison officers 5, 238 problem-based learning 219 professional artistry 224 professional education 70 professional identity 186 professionalism 11, 150, 153 – 154 qualification model 110 quality 44; quality mechanisms 20 Recognition primed decision making 220 recontextualised knowledge 76 recruitment and retention 170 reflection-in-action 225 reflections 103 reflective questions 118 related publications 241; higher education 241; ‘practice-based’ education 241; professional education 241;VET-related 241 relational 200 research design 172 respect for the qualification 50 role of self 178 school leavers 49 Scottish Prison Service (SPS) 151, 155 – 156, 160 self-belief 181 self-confidence 181 self-directed learning/study 57, 207 self-efficacy 179, 186

248 Index sequencing 214 situated learning 57, 61, 65, 67, 97, 223, 230 skilled facilitator 182 skills needs 13, 119; collective skills formation 14; development 123; employability skills 41; skilled 37; unskilled 37 Smith, E. 4, 37 – 55, 237 social institutions 201 social integration 23 social learning 228, 231 social networks 141 socio-cultural influences 58, 67 sociomaterial 67 specialisation 45 speed 44 sports psychology 67 stakeholders 99, 105 state engineering schools 17 students 101 – 103 supervision 228 supervisors 105 support programs 140 Sweet, L. 6, 200 – 216, 239 symbiotic relationship 89 systematic knowledge 88 tacit knowledge 84 tacit understanding of learning 68 teaching as learning 59 teaching knowledge 85 teaching strategies/approaches 88 technical and vocational education and training (TVET) 70 Technical-Rationalism 224 theory to practice 102 Thurgate, C. 6, 170 – 199, 238

topic of investigation 239 trades tutors 4, 237; identity formation 63 trade unions 20 training 45; off-the-job training 46; on-the-job firm-specific training 46 training providers 38 transferability 31 transformational leadership 183 – 184 transformational learning 185 transition 186 transition shock 179 tutor profile 62 uncertainty 227 undergraduate degree 122 unemployment 23 United Kingdom 110 USA 110 utilisation of qualifications 49 values 154 – 155, 157 – 161, 165 – 166; shared values 177 vocational education and training (VET) 2, 38, 93, 99, 106; vocational focus 117; vocational identities 56 – 57, 59 – 60, 66 weak ties 140, 144 work-based learning (WBL) 92, 95 – 97, 99, 102 – 103, 105 – 106, 171, 180, 226, 230 work environment 131 work-integrated learning (WIL) 92, 124 workplace 177; culture 178, 181; effective workplace culture 182; experiences 200 work-ready 116 youth workers 5, 238