Melting Ice Caps and Changing Ontologies

An alarming column in the business section of Saturday's Globe and Mail causes me to draw some parallels between the week's readings, the state of the planet, our own very small role as educators and an ontological review of self in a time of crisis.

Entitled "Melting Icecap Puts Europe's Woes in Perspective", the column stands out amidst the stories on the effects of free trade and the fate of RIM. Reguly (2012) writes that "extreme weather has gone from rare to almost normal ... the Arctic icecap is disappearing at shock and awe rates, far faster than the vast majority of climate scientists predicted only a few years ago". He notes that on the economic front, climate change is already reducing global GDP by 1.6% and concludes by musing, "Makes you wonder why so much energy and money is being devoted to far lesser crises".

The analysis of climate change by a hard-headed business writer made me think about how humankind got into this dire predicament, and the answers to this issue that are suggested by this week's readings. Matusitz and Kramer (2011) describe how "positivism claims that there is only one true picture of reality, thus negating the possibility of dialogue between them" (p. 299) and "the penchant for establishing the truth, once and for all, with solution and resolution being finalized, emerged along with  industrialization" (p. 299). Furthermore, "the modern industrial world is goal oriented and demands production which is units produced per unit of time" (p. 299). "If a forest cannot be timbered or a river harnessed for generating power, providing water, or fished, then it has no value" (p. 300).

The view that humankind has taken of nature (even the use of the words 'humankind' and 'nature' suggests an opposition between them) suggests Nietzshe's notion of perspectivism (p. 292). Knowing subjects in the western industrial economies have been born into, lived in and worked in, a world in which the environment plays a distant second fiddle to economic growth. Until recently, no other perspective was really possible. As Kant writes, society determines what is true and false, right and wrong. "What we think true is a collective delusion from which no one can escape" (p. 295). 

Except now, when Ottawa's Rideau Canal has largely stopped freezing during winter, and North America roasts during summers of record temperatures and searing drought, the "collective delusion" that the environment can be trampled upon is fading as rapidly as the polar ice caps.

What are we as educators to do? How can we position ourselves philosophically so that we may play a constructive role in society's adaptation to climate change and, possibly, its efforts to try to ameliorate the situation? In the words of the guiding question we have been asked, how does our awareness of these arguments shape our ontological view of self?"

One stance is surely suggested by Howe's description of transformationists as proceeding by "articulating and employing broad political principles--justice, equality, and the like--to criticize existing conditions and to suggest the direction that transformations should take place" (p. 18). Educators as transformationists could articulate and employ broad political principles that place the environment at the forefront of human concerns and suggest the practical steps that individuals and governments could take to try to address the most pressing issues. 

Reguly, E. (2012, September 29). Melting icecap puts Europe's woes in perspective. The Globe and Mail, pp. B1.

Howe, K. (1998). The interpretive turn and the new debate in education,  Educational Researcher, 27(8), 13-20.

Matusitz, J. And Kramer, E. (2011) A critique of Bernstein’s beyond objectivism and relativism: science, hermeneutics, and praxis by Jonathan Matusitz1 and Eric Kramer, Poesis & Praxis,  7(4), 291-303.http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3136698

"Becoming" Wireless

Matt's comments on the importance of informal learning and the ways in which it might impact formal learning led me to consider Heidegger's ideas, as expressed in Dall' Alba (2009), and their possible application to the study of adolescents in the era of ubiquitous wi fi.

The point that Heidegger makes - and thank goodness for Dall 'Alba's clear, accessible interpretation of his dense prose - is that becoming a professional involves "transformation of the self through embodying the routines and traditions of the profession in question" (Dall'Alba, 2009). She argues that faculties of education should switch their focus from epistemology - steering people toward thinking like teachers - to ontology - forming the very essence of people INTO teachers.

There's a link between this and my proposed thesis research, in which I

intend to study the ways in which today's wireless youth encounter and experience live theatre. Thanks to this week's readings, I see that there is an ontological aspect to this. A key question at the root of my question is, "How has being raised in the wireless era helped to form young people? What are they like? How do they BE?"

Theatre is an ancient cultural tradition, formed in the pre-Internet world and perhaps, now, struggling to keep itself relevant. When you take someone whose ontological being has been formed by the wizards at Apple and place her in front of a play written to be cutting edge in 1605, what happens?

Her physical position in the theatre suggests, as Merleau-Ponty writes (in Dall'Alba, 2009) that 'The body is the vehicle for being in the world" (p. 37). But if she has an eye on her iPhone during the performance, her body is in the theatre but her mind is somewhere else - partially in the theatre, partially attending to other matters. This would confirm his assertion that "ambiguity is of the essence of human existence, and everything we live or think has several meanings" (Merleau-Ponty, in Dall'Alba, 2009) .

What kind of person does an immersion in the pleasures of the Internet form? My guess is that, by looking at the encounter between her and the live play, I can begin to posit some answers.

One more thing. Lincoln and Guba (2000) describe how foundationalists see that ways of defining reality are rooted in phenomena existing out side the human mind (p. 176). Critical foundationalists like Marxists look at those underlying power structures and see the cause of oppression, inequality and marginalization (p. 177). I would be very interested to know - and would be delighted if anyone could point me in the right direction - what work has been done on the ontological question of how growing wireless shapes being. What are the foundations that define the adolescent's wireless world? Who shapes them? In whose interest are they formed?

A critical examination of the power structures that shape the very core being of our young people, and a consideration of who is winning and losing in that massive effort - could be a useful contribution to our understanding of our student's lives and an insight into how culture is changing in response. 

Applying Epistemology to Research

In my thesis I intend to explore how members of the wireless generation experience live theatre. Although much remains to be decided, I would guess that my research methodology will involve watching a series of plays with grade 12 students and then meeting with them in focus groups to discuss, in a semi-structured interview format, how they felt about the experience.

How might my introduction to epistemology help to underpin this process?

• The epistemological experience will be constructivist, because I’m pretty sure there are no objective truths waiting for me to discover. Instead, I will be probing the ways in which “subject and object emerge as partners in the generation of meaning” (Crotty, p. 9).
• My findings will fall under post-positivism: I will be seeking to “approximate the truth rather than grasp its totality” (p. 29). 
• I will be a social constructionist in my research, because I believe that “culture is best seen as the source rather than the result of human thought and behavior” (p. 53). My students have been “born into a world of meaning” (p. 54), and my job is to explore what the world is, and how is affects their experience of live theatre.
• Having spent some reading Joe Kincheloe and Shirley Steinberg, I may also bring a critical thinking lens to the research, since I suspect that student use of technology is not as benign as many imagine. Students may believe that they are “thinking different” as they turn on the iPhones at the theatre, but that very act places them within the conflict between consumerist and artistic culture. 

This will, I hope, clarify the purpose of my research and help to frame and support its findings. 

There's Nothing in "King Lear"

As is so often the case with graduate studies, what I spend studying one day becomes a big part of one my teaching the next.

I’m working on Shakespeare’s King Lear with my grade 12s at the moment, and commenting on the use of the use of the word “nothing” in the first couple of scenes. At the beginning of the play, Lear makes the mistake of dividing up his kingdom between his two wicked daughters and sending his good daughter, Cordelia (which is also the name of my cat, but that’s another story) into exile because she won’t play along with his “love test” and tell him how much she loves him.

“What can you say to draw/A third more opulent than your sisters?”, asks Lear.

“Nothing, my lord”, Cordelia replies.

“Nothing!”, he counters.

“Nothing.”

And then come his fateful, and particularly intriguing words: “Nothing will come of nothing: speak again”.

Lear, of course, is dead wrong about a lot of things at the beginning of the play – this is a tragedy, after all, and the tragic hero has much to learn – but this year, for the first time, I saw that he is also wrong about “nothing”.

According to the reading I did the day before class, in constructionism, “meaning is not discovered, but constructed” (Crotty, p. 9). This means that by articulating the notion of “nothingness”, Lear gives thought, intentionality and substance to it. As soon as it is identified by him, “nothing” becomes “something”.

And of course that’s absolutely right, because “nothingness” has enormous consequences throughout the play. Lear gives up his crown, and the “nothing” at the centre of the kingdom leads to war; he loses his reason and the “nothing” that fills up his mind leads, ironically, to greater insight.

Shakespeare seems to articulate the constructionist point of view. He understands that “nothingness” is a very real and active part of the world – if it appears in government, chaos reigns; if it appears in the mind, wisdom can be achieved.

Much comes of “nothing”.

Theory into Practice

I have been reading a great deal of Marlene Scardamalia’s work in preparation for my final two papers, finding all sorts of interesting links between her theories of knowledge-building and my own observations and thoughts about teaching theatre literacy in the grade 12 classroom. I have also been reflecting on some of the struggles expressed in previous blogs about how I can integrate technology into my classroom in more effective and helpful ways, and what a renewed classroom environment will look like come September.

In her work, Knowledge Building: Theory, Pedagogy and Technology (2006), Scardamalia writes that in a genuine knowledge building community, “the Internet becomes more that a desktop library and a rapid mail-delivery system. It becomes the first realistic means for  students to connect with civilization-wide knowledge building and to make their classroom work a part of it” (p. 98).

A walk in the lovely, late evening prairie gloom brought to mind some of the tools and approaches that I could see supporting my practice:

1.       Post course materials and move toward a paperless environment.

2.       Pool student online research around key questions.

3.       Allow peer teaching as students hone each other’s papers before showing them to me.

4.       Create an online discussion board, and the expectation of a reflective student blog.

5.       Post short instructional videos by me on common teaching trouble spots such as how to write a thesis statement.

6.       Post expert lectures for additional background.

7.       Create links to online simulations like StageStruck.

8.       Create links to supplementary materials like backstage interviews with actors and directors.

9.       Allow for a greater variety of work to be posted in an e-portfolio.

10.   Engage in collaborative learning with students overseas.

11.   Allow for research around problems.

12.   Engage in online debates, possibly with a sister school in India.

13.   Create more varied online presentations and epistemic artefacts such as videos and artworks.

14.   Provide the opportunity for students to ask questions of experts in the field, such as questions about how they might have tackled certain staging issues in their production of a Shakespeare play.

I’ll look forward to trying out a few of these approaches as the months unfold, keen to put them to use in the creation of a knowledge-building community modelled on the practices of literary scholarship. Should be fun!

Schools and the Participatory Culture

Dr. Friesen’s description of the wonderful work being done at Olds School brought our reading of Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture (Jenkins, 2009) to mind, particularly its definition of the phrase “participatory culture”:

 “1. relatively low barriers to artistic expression and civic engagement

2. strong support for creating and sharing creations with others

3. some type of informal mentorship whereby what is known by the most experienced is passed along to novices

4. members who believe that their contributions matter

5. members who feel some degree of social connection with one another (at the least, they care what other people think about what they have created”. (p. 5)

 Jenkins uses the phrase to describe the world of Web 2.0, in which people have switched from being receivers to creators of content. But it could also be applied to the ideals of schooling that we have been talking about in class. If students were allowed to seize their right to an education, were given the opportunity to develop their minds and engage in happy and productive work with their friends, school itself could become a “participatory culture”, and the five facets to the definition would hold true. There would be low barriers to expression; strong support for creativity; informal mentorship from the teacher; meaningful contributions; and strong bonds between students engaged in meaningful work.

What is it that prevents the participatory culture we see flourishing on the web from taking hold in our schools? I suspect that a deep reason is that, institutionally, we are afraid of students and believe that the only way to make them work is to force them to do so – the old industrial model of control.

And yet what is heart-breaking for those of us focussed on the secondary years, is to remember for a moment the joy that motivates student learning in the younger grades. Much of what happens in those early years could be termed as “participatory culture” – the sounds of happy engagement from the well-run classroom are evidence of that.

The challenge for high school teachers like myself is to reignite the joy of learning in our students, to believe in their innate curiosity, and to open our doors to the participatory culture that has so naturally taken hold in other aspects of their lives.

Teaching at a Good School

The discussion in class around the need for teachers to model and foster authentic learning practices in their students, discussed in detail by Edelson and Reiser (2006), caused me to reflect upon what goes on in my own school, and the vantage point I have as both a teacher and as the parent of one of the students.

First, it struck me in one of those light bulb moments that by virtue of being in a class, the student should be participating in the authentic discourse of that discipline. That means no more sterile, disembodied questions, for example, but tasks, questions and problems that cause the student to live the subject. I reflect upon some of the activities in my class, such as “spark writing”, a ten-minute creative writing session that starts most of my classes, followed by feedback that models the sorts of responses a writer would give another writer.

Second, it reminded me of why I have been so impressed by my son’s experience at my school because I see total immersion in the discourse of each individual discipline. In history class, for example, he’s debating with the historians; in English he’s interpreting texts; in phys ed he’s doing a variety of sports. I also see rigour and variety within that academic program, and I see teachers who are subject specialists, all keen to advocate for their position within the life of the student and the school. I had been struggling a bit with the notion of authentic practice, but I now I feel that I have … wait for it … a knowledge of authentic practice.