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THE LEGACY OF SUBJECT SPECIALISM
Proposals to integrate vocational and academic aims anticipate that, given the
right circumstances, vocational and academic teachers could readily cooperate
in altering the nature of curriculum and pedagogy within subjects, locating new
connections among subjects, and pursuing new relations between the school and
the larger community. To accomplish such aims, however, teachers and those
with whom they work must contend with the intellectual orientation, social
relations, emotional satisfactions, and formal organization that comprise the
legacy of subject specialism.
Despite the barrage of criticism, subject remains an important frame of
reference and source of professional identity and community for secondary
teachers. That is, "subject" is not merely the stuff of curriculum, texts, and
tests; it is more fundamentally a part of being a teacher. In one of the few
studies devoted to the subject organization of high schools, Siskin (in press)
observes that "secondary teachers both describe and demonstrate the distinctive
vocabularies, logics, and concerns of their subject specialties in
subject-specific ways." Further, "these are more than simply idiosyncratic
appearances of technical jargon; rather the discipline's language and
epistemology are interwoven in ways teachers--as subject matter
specialists--conceptualize the world, their roles within it, and the nature of
knowledge, teaching, and learning. . . . Teachers frequently explain who they
are, what they do, and how they do it by anchoring their identities, actions
and understandings in the subject matter itself" (pp. 269, 270).
To a large extent, the prevailing stereotype of the "subject-centered teacher"
rings true. Teachers are bound to their subject perspectives in multiple ways:
by their own recollections of going to high school; by processes of teacher
preparation and credentialing; and by the subject imperatives contained in
state curriculum frameworks, testing protocols, and approved textbooks. They
work within departments organized by single fields or cognate disciplines, and
affiliate themselves with other subject specialists in professional subject
matter associations, informal networks, and the like. Teachers employ subject
paradigms to express their priorities in teaching--what they want to accomplish
or what students "need." They invoke standards of subject integrity to explain
their enthusiasms or express their reservations about proposed changes in
school requirements, curriculum, instruction, or assessment.
Yet this stereotype of the subject specialist masks the considerable diversity
of views and practices in secondary teaching. Through close investigation of
"subject communities" in high schools, we have begun to trace the various ways
in which subject organizes teaching or teachers. Portraits of subject
specialism illustrate some of the ways in which subject comes to be construed
quite differently within and across subjects or schools (e.g., see Ball &
Lacey, 1984; Becher, 1989; Bruckerhoff, 1991; Connell, 1985; Elbaz, 1983;
Finley, 1984; Goodson, 1988a; Grossman, 1991; Siskin, 1991, in press; Stodolsky
& Grossman, 1992).
Recent studies both reinforce and challenge the stereotype of the
subject-centered secondary teacher. Certainly they demonstrate the salience of
subject affiliation and the potency of subject status hierarchies, but these
studies also qualify the stereotype in important ways. They show the dichotomy
between "subject-centered" and "student-centered" teaching to be vastly
oversimplified. The high school English teacher conceives neither the subject
discipline nor the task of teaching in the same way as the university
professor. In ways that seem less common among university subject specialists,
high school teachers weave together their conceptions of subject and student.
Secondary teachers see their students in part through the lens of subject--what
the subject enables or constrains in relation to students. Thus, one English
teacher with whom we spoke attributes part of her satisfaction in teaching
English to the fact that the subject "really lets you get to know the kids."
Teachers also interpret the subject in part through their students--what it is
in the subject that the student "needs" or "enjoys." Such inquiries also
underscore the multiple bases of teachers' interests and commitments in
teaching: subject is prominent among them, but is joined or in some cases
overshadowed by teachers' investments in extracurricular activities or in
nonsubject related involvements with colleagues or community.
The same studies also challenge monolithic conceptions of "subject." Some
subjects appear "open" and "flexible," others more bounded, fixed, and
sequential. Subjects differ in the latitude each offers for philosophical or
pedagogical autonomy and flexibility. Both math specialists and teachers of
other disciplines commonly describe math as fixed and sequential, specified in
content and order of curriculum, and "cut and dried."[1] Nearly everyone sees English as far more open and fluid,
leaving room for diverse purposes, content, and methods--though there are
disputes within the English community about the diverse and competing
definitions of the discipline (Grossman, 1991). English is presented as both
more malleable and more permeable than math, a more hospitable site for
innovation.
Despite such broad categorical differences, the meaning of subject varies also
within disciplines and departments. Coining the terms "subject philosophy" and
"subject pedagogy" to capture coherent views held by teachers about a subject
and the way it is taught, Ball and Lacey (1984) reported considerable variation
both within and between four English departments in British comprehensive high
schools. Teachers held different and competing orientations toward the
discipline and the way in which they preferred that it be taught (e.g., those
who emphasized the creative/expressive aspects of English versus the
"grammarians" who emphasized basic skills). In Bruckerhoff's (1991) recent
portrait of two cliques of high school teachers, both the "Academics" and the
"Coaches" considered themselves to be subject specialists, yet their views of
subject and subject teaching were distinctly at odds. The Academics prided
themselves on the breadth and depth of their disciplinary knowledge and held a
predominantly canonical view of subject knowledge. They relied heavily on
well-researched lectures as a pedagogical mode. The Coaches were
philosophically more disposed to view the subject in instrumental ways, as one
of several vehicles for engaging the attention of adolescents. They were
pragmatically constrained by the demands of their extracurricular roles to
"teach from the text."
On the whole, these investigations reveal something of the characteristic
nature of subject perspective and subject commitment and of the variation
within and between subjects. They suggest how such differences may shape
classroom decisions or, in some instances, school practices. For example, math
teachers who view mathematics as a hierarchical subject tend to be staunch
defenders of homogeneous student grouping, while English teachers seem more
likely to push for alternatives to tracking (see Ball, 1981, 1987; Cone, 1992).
Embedded in these subject orientations, but rarely addressed explicitly in
studies of subject specialism, are teachers' theories of schooling: views of
what schooling should accomplish and what part teachers' subject preferences
play in achieving those purposes. Yet it is precisely this analysis that must
be made explicit if we are to move beyond the crude stereotypes of subject
specialism in accounting for teachers' responses to proposals for the
integration of vocational and academic studies.
In the subject-dominated world of public secondary schooling, vocational topics
have long held an ambiguous place. Their standing is compromised first by the
traditional subject hierarchies. As described elsewhere,
The social organization of high school subjects mirrors the subject
matter organization of higher education. Fields that are organized as
recognized disciplines, holding departmental status in the academy, tend to
command greater institutional respect and compete more successfully for
institutional resources in the high school. This is not to deny that there are
local variations, responsive to local community character and priorities, or to
argue that the imprimatur of subject expertise is impervious to the
relationships and reputations established by particular teachers in particular
circumstances. On the whole, however, subject hierarchies favor those in the
academic tradition. (Little, 1993, p. 139)
A status gulf separates vocational from academic studies in most comprehensive
high schools. The history of vocational and academic studies in American
secondary schools is a tale of two worlds: a differentiated curriculum, a
divided student clientele, and a bifurcated teacher workforce. This is not to
say that this well-established status hierarchy goes uncontested, but that it
has nonetheless remained stable throughout most of the twentieth century. The
status asymmetry is exacerbated when vocational topics are viewed as
"nonsubjects" (Burgess, 1983, 1984; Connell, 1985) and further reinforced when
vocational students are defined by the absence of academic success (the
"noncollege-bound").
The standing of vocational topics is further compromised in the comprehensive
high schools by reductions in program offerings and by the common practice of
"dumping ground" student placements. Vocational education has limited "subject
presence" in many comprehensive high schools. While the core academic subjects
offer a three- or four-year sequence of required courses and associated
electives, the vocational programs have seen a steady erosion of course
offerings. The "program" in various industrial trades, in business, or in home
economics may amount to no more than a few sections of introductory courses.
Even those students interested in concentrating in a specific vocational area
are hard-pressed to assemble a coherent sequence of vocationally oriented
instruction.[2]
Long-standing asymmetries between vocational and academic curricula have
spawned a persistent campaign for legitimacy on the part of vocational
educators (Connell, 1985; Little & Threatt, 1992). Confronted with a
compressed curriculum and declining enrollment, vocational teachers justify
their programs in ways that preserve student enrollment but that may
inadvertently depress the status of vocational courses in the eyes of academic
teachers. Specifically, the vocational educators distinguish between a "life
skills" orientation and a "genuinely vocational" orientation, and focus on the
former. From the perspective of the academic teacher, then, vocational topics
may appear to amount to no more than the most rudimentary practices of daily
adult life (e.g., balancing the checkbook, renting a place to live, and
checking the oil). The complexities of a more coherent, sequential vocational
curriculum (especially one that demonstrates a place for algebra, geometry,
physics, or other topics central to the academic program) are less readily
apparent. The focus on life skills sustains teaching positions by broadening
the definition of an appropriate student clientele, but compromises teachers'
own sense of subject. Here are the words of one drafting teacher whose sense
of subject changed dramatically when he moved from a specialized vocational
center to a comprehensive high school:
I was teaching kids to become drafters and designers and engineers.
And as they came over to me they knew what they wanted to do in most cases. . .
. I had a student that came back last year and showed me a design that he did
for a digital tire gauge and he gave me one as a present. He's at the state
university now and finishing up his senior year in engineering. Those are the
success stories that are neat, but those were the times when we taught subject
matter.
Vocational educators are most strongly positioned to establish claims to a
coherent subject where they can point to a sequence of courses that offer
progressive sophistication with respect to the central concepts and skills of a
field. Occupational high schools and career academies, for example, hold out a
wide range of opportunities within a vertically organized occupational domain
(e.g., health occupations). Conversely, vocational educators are placed at a
disadvantage when they cannot point to the curriculum that offers evidence of
subject depth and breadth and that is linked to more than the lowest level
entry positions. Where vocational topics appear simple and shallow,
vocational educators gain little recognition for subject expertise.
Finally, the regard for vocational topics (and those who teach them) is
diminished by the relative privacy in which teachers work.[3] Teacher isolation sustains teacher stereotypes regarding
the nature and importance of subjects other than their own. The insularity of
the classroom hardens the boundaries that divide teachers and limits the
understanding that teachers acquire of one another's perspectives and
practices. Teachers typically have little familiarity with the content or
methods employed by their colleagues in other departments (and, not uncommonly,
even within their own departments). Nonetheless, teachers do form judgments
about the importance of particular subjects and courses. They form opinions
about the workload shouldered by their colleagues in other departments. These
opinions are no less strongly held for being, on the whole, poorly informed.
Teachers have scant bases on which to acclaim one another's genuine
accomplishments, and even less on which to found a plan for "integrating"
educational purposes, curricular content, and meaningful assessment.
The mutual isolation and ignorance in which vocational and academic teachers
work is mirrored in the professional and scholarly literature as well. As we
begin to construct portraits of teachers' subject conceptions--the subject
philosophy and subject pedagogy they espouse--we find few that illuminate the
meanings that subject acquires among vocational teachers.[4] Of the twenty teachers whom Macrorie (1984) celebrates for
"their practice of eliciting good works from their students" (p. xiv),
only one is a high school teacher in a nonacademic subject. Sam Bush, a master
cabinetmaker, teaches cabinetmaking in an independent school. His words convey
something of what woodworking entails as a subject--a body of principled
knowledge, a repertoire of skill, and a method of inquiry. For Bush, wood is a
medium for discovery, for building character as well as skill. His views echo
those of John Dewey (1916/1966) and offer possible common ground with academic
teachers. But Macrorie has supplied us with a relatively rare portrait. There
are few others, and those that are available tend to concentrate on the
problems of status asymmetry rather than on the possibilities that reside in
conceptions of subject teaching or of work education (e.g., Connell, 1985).
Differences in world view and teaching experience are further bounded by an
organizational structure built on departments. The department constitutes an
intersection of the social organization of the school and the social-political
organization of knowledge modeled on the subject disciplines of higher
education. Studies of the academic departments in colleges and universities
conclude that "departments divide faculty into different worlds, develop
distinctive cultures, and control key decisions about professional careers and
allocation of resources" (Siskin, 1991, p. 138; see also Becher, 1989; Clark,
1989; Johnson, 1990).
In secondary schools, departments are also "different worlds" in which
teachers define meaningful intellectual and social practice, and in which
schools concentrate symbolic and material resources. They are home to subject
subcultures that may result "not only in different departmental policies and
practice but also in different responses to the same external policies"
(Siskin, 1991, p. 144; see also Werner, 1991). Such departmental differences
in policy response bear directly on the efforts to achieve integration between
vocational and academic education. Siskin offers a pertinent example from a
case study of one comprehensive high school: "Block scheduling, according to
the principal, is something for 'lab and activity-centered subjects.' Physical
education and science--they really salivate at that [, but for] English and
social studies it was a real problem" (p. 144).
The salience and stability of departments is greatest for the academic
subjects. Based on surveys of twenty-five high schools, Siskin (1991) observes
that the core academic subjects were always organized as distinct departments,
while the "nonacademic" subjects were more likely to be combined in a variety
of ways. She concludes that this is not merely a function of school and
department size:
Even in the smallest school, math and English had their own
departments; even in the largest, they were not subdivided.
Departmentalization may be, in part, a functional response to increasing school
size, but the uniformity of academic divisions across size suggests that there
are other processes at work and that these academic divisions are structured by
forces external to the individual school. (p. 150)
Teachers' capacity for pursuing new organizational, curricular, and
instructional possibilities is limited not only by their relative isolation
from one another during the teaching day, but also by the insularity of
departmental boundaries. Departments "fuel powerful tendencies toward
balkanization" in secondary schools, according to Hargreaves and his colleagues
(Hargreaves, Davis, Fullan, Wignall, Stager, & Macmillan, 1992, p. 8).
Hargreaves' analysis echoes earlier criticisms regarding the fragmentation of
secondary schooling--in particular, the analyses of "the shopping mall high
school" (Powell, Farrar, & Cohen, 1985) and "Horace's compromise" (Sizer,
1984) that later informed the organizing principles of the Coalition of
Essential Schools. Hargreaves and Macmillan (1992) begin to flesh out the
theoretical dimensions of subject fragmentation in a way that the earlier
critiques have not. Balkanized cultures, they posit, display low permeability
(well-insulated boundaries), high permanence or stability of categories and
membership, personal identification with singular reference groups, and a
political alignment of self-interest with the subunit rather than the whole.
As sources of personal identity, arenas for collective action, and
concentrations of political power, departments are major contributors to
balkanization. It is not yet entirely clear, however, whether well-bounded
departments are good news or bad news or, more precisely, what the conditions
are under which they turn out to be one or the other. Where departments form
innovative communities, they may constitute a home for new ventures of
sufficient focus and of manageable enough scale to break old traditions. For
example, the success of "writing across the curriculum" initiatives may rest on
a cohesive and entrepreneurial English department.
In all of these ways, the realities of subject specialism turn out to be
situationally complex. Subject perspectives are compelling, and subject
organization remains remarkably resilient. Subject affiliations constitute a
powerful referent in the careers of many high school teachers. The particular
meanings of subject specialism or subject community, however, cannot be assumed
apart from local context. Some subject communities more than others leave room
for the kind of enterprises that respond to multiple purposes and that bridge
subject boundaries. Further, traditional forms of subject organization, and
traditional modes of subject teaching, are undergoing profound changes. This
is the climate in which we entertain the prospect of integrating academic study
with work education.
[1] Certainly there are exceptions to this
view of mathematics. In a small interview study with math teachers who were
actively involved in the Urban Mathematics Collaboratives and other mathematics
associations, we encountered views and innovative practices that were notably
different from the view portrayed here. For example, the activist teachers
were quite ready to abandon the conventional sequence of high school
mathematics courses (Little & McLaughlin, 1991). However, such views were
not widely evident in the teacher interviews or surveys conducted as part of
the larger study in mainstream comprehensive high schools.
[2] For a more complete description of the
"compressed curriculum" in vocational education, see Little and Threatt (1992).
In practice, students and teachers make accommodations by forming a version of
in-school apprenticeship arrangements. On paper, a course may be listed as
"Auto Shop I, II, III, IV," which permits students to gain successive levels of
course credit while permitting the school to offer a small selection of course
sections. See also Selvin, Oakes, Hare, Ramsey, and Schoeff, 1990; Oakes,
Selvin, Karoly, and Guiton, 1992.
[3] This is not to say that if academic teachers
were fully informed about the vocational courses of study and classroom
practices in their schools they would be uniformly impressed. Our observations
in mainstream comprehensive high schools supplied plentiful evidence of a
"compressed curriculum" and uninspired pedagogy. In those schools that are
seriously attempting to transform work education, however, the isolation of
programs and teachers works to the disadvantage of any efforts to integrate
work education with academic endeavors.
[4] By comparison to studies centered on
academic subjects, vocational education has been relatively invisible in the
most prominent studies of American secondary schools. Absent from the
literature on secondary subject specialists is any detailed treatment of
vocational specialism. The closest precedents are to be found in British
studies of comprehensive secondary schools (Burgess, 1983) and the careers of
secondary teachers (Sikes, Measor, & Woods, 1985).
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