International Handbook of Research in Arts Education 2-volume set (Springer International Handbooks of Education)

INTERNATIONAL HANDBOOK OF RESEARCH IN ARTS EDUCATION

Springer International Handbook of Research in Arts Education VOLUME 16

A list of titles in this series can be found at the end of this volume.

International Handbook of Research in Arts Education Editor: Liora Bresler University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

A C.I.P. Catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN-10 1-4020-4857-2 (PB) ISBN-13 978-1-4020-4857-9 (PB) ISBN-10 1-4020-2998-5 (HB) ISBN-13 978-1-4020-2998-1 (HB) ISBN-10 1-4020-3052-5 (e-book) ISBN-13 978-1-4020-3052-9 (e-book)

Published by Springer, P.O. Box 17, 3300 AA Dordrecht, The Netherlands www.springer.com

Printed on acid-free paper

All Rights Reserved © 2007 Springer No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the Publisher, with the exception of any material supplied specifically for the purpose of being entered and executed on a computer system, for exclusive use by the purchaser of the work.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction Acknowledgments List of Reviewers

xvii xxi xxv Part One

Section 1 History Section Editor: Gordon Cox 1

Prelude: History of Education and Arts Education Gordon Cox

Capitalizing Art Education: Mapping International Histories Mary Ann Stankiewicz International Commentaries 2.1 France: Bernard Darras 2.2 Africa: Winston Jumba Akala 2.3 Sweden: Gunnar Åsén

31 35 37

Interlude: Arts Education, the Aesthetic and Cultural Studies Arthur D. Efland

A History of Drama Education: A Search for Substance Gavin Bolton International Commentaries 4.1 Namibia: Minette Mans 4.2 Israel: Shifra Schonmann

The Teaching and Learning of Music in the Settings of Family, Church, and School: Some Historical Perspectives Gordon Cox International Commentaries 5.1 Germany: Wilfried Gruhn 5.2 China: Wai-Chung Ho 5.3 Japan: Koji Matsunobu 5.4 Turkey: H. Seval Köse 5.5 Scandinavia: Eiliv Olsen Interlude: History Looking Forward Richard Colwell

63 65 67

81 85 89 91 93 95

Table of Contents

Social History and Dance as Education Ann Dils International Commentaries 7.1 Korea: Su-Jeong Wee 7.2 New Zealand: Ralph Buck The Teaching of English Language Arts as Poetic Language: An Institutionalist View Alyson Whyte

103

113 117 121

Section 2 Curriculum Section Editor: Susan W. Stinson 9

Prelude: Making Sense of Curriculum Research in Arts Education Susan W. Stinson

143

Currents of Change in the Music Curriculum Janet R. Barrett International Commentaries 10.1 Africa: Anri Herbst 10.2 Lebanon: Ibrahim H. Baltagi 10.3 Hong Kong: Chi Cheung Leung 10.4 Spain: Gabriel Rusinek 10.5 Scandinavia: Magne Espeland

147

Experiencing the Visual and Visualizing Experiences Rita L. Irwin and F. Graeme Chalmers International Commentary 11.1 Jordan: Mohamad S. Shaban

179

Interlude: On Learning to Draw and Paint as an Adult Decker Walker

197

Proteus, the Giant at the Door: Drama and Theater in the Curriculum John O’Toole and Jo O’Mara

203

Narrative as Artful Curriculum Making Lynn Butler-Kisber, Yi Li, D. Jean Clandinin, and Pamela Markus International Commentary 14.1 Israel: Bracha Alpert

219

Interlude: Imagining Ms. Eddy Alive; or, the Return of the Arts Teacher and her Personalized Curriculum Tom Barone Dance Curriculum Research Donald Blumenfeld-Jones and Sheaun-Yann Liang

163 167 169 173 175

195

235 239 245

Table of Contents

International Commentaries 16.1 New Zealand: Ralph Buck 16.2 Namibia: Minette Mans 17

Music (and Arts) Education from the Point of View of Didaktik and Bildung Frede V. Nielsen Arts Integration in the Curriculum: A Review of Research and Implications for Teaching and Learning Joan Russell and Michalinos Zembylas International Commentaries 18.1 South Africa: Anri Herbst 18.2 Greece: Smaragda Chrysostomou 18.3 Japan: Koji Matsunobu 18.4 Switzerland: Markus Cslovjecsek Artists in the Academy: Curriculum and Instruction Eve Harwood International Commentaries 19.1 Japan: Koji Matsunobu 19.2 Namibia: Minette Mans

vii

261 263 265

287

303 307 309 311 313

331 333

Section 3 Assessment and Evaluation Section Editors: Regina Murphy and Magne Espeland 20

Prelude: Making Connections in Assessment and Evaluation in Arts Education Regina Murphy and Magne Espeland

337

To See and to Share: Evaluating the Dance Experience in Education Barry Oreck International Commentary 21.1 Taiwan: Shu-Ying Liu

341

Harmonizing Assessment and Music in the Classroom Regina Murphy International Commentaries 22.1 Spain: José Luis Aróstegui 22.2 Taiwan: Sheau-Yuh Lin 22.3 Turkey: H. Seval Köse

361

Interlude: Reflections on a Line from Dewey Chris Higgins

389

Assessing English within the Arts Kathy Hall, Jonathan Rix, and Ian Eyres

395

357

381 383 387

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Wrestling with Assessment in Drama Education Shifra Schonmann

409

Interlude: Assessment and Evaluation in Education and the Arts Elliot Eisner

423

Evaluation Research in Visual Arts Education Folkert Haanstra and Diederik W. Schönau International Commentary 27.1 Sweden: Lars Lindström

427

443

Section 4 Composition Section Editor: Sarah J. McCarthey 28

Prelude: The Composition Section Composing as Metaphor and Process Sarah J. McCarthey

447

Compositional Process in Music Jackie Wiggins International Commentaries 29.1 Taiwan: Sheau-Yuh Lin 29.2 Hong Kong: Bo Wah Leung

453

Four Metaphors of the Composing Process Sarah J. McCarthey International Commentary 30.1 Switzerland: Francois Tochon

477

Interlude: Metaphor and the Mission of the Arts Keith Swanwick

497

Composition in Theater: Writing and Devising Performance Barbara McKean

503

Research in Choreography Thomas K. Hagood and Luke C. Kahlich International Commentary 33.1 Portugal: Ana Macara

517

Interlude: Art and Metaphor, Body and Mind Michael Parsons

533

Composing in Visual Arts Anna M. Kindler International Commentary 35.1 Sweden: Lars Lindström

543

471 475

493

529

559

Table of Contents

Section 5 Appreciation Section Editor: Margaret S. Barrett 36

Prelude: Locating the Heart of Experience Margaret S. Barrett

565

Moving into Dance: Dance Appreciation as Dance Literacy Ann Dils International Commentaries 37.1 Finland: Eeva Anttila 37.2 Australia: Shirley McKechnie

569

Appreciation: The Weakest Link in Drama/Theater Education Shifra Schonmann International Commentary 38.1 Australia: John A. Hughes

587

Music Appreciation: Exploring Similarity and Difference Margaret S. Barrett International Commentary 39.1 Japan: Koji Matsunobu

605

Later “In the Early World”: The Changing Role of Poetry and Creative Writing in the K-12 Classroom Stuart D. Lishan and Terry Hermsen

581 583

601

621 623

Teaching Toward Appreciation in the Visual Arts Terry Barrett International Commentary 41.1 The Netherlands: Folkert Haanstra

639

Interlude: The Arches of Experience Maxine Greene

657

Interlude: On Reading Maxine’s Interlude Robert Stake

663

Postcards from “A World Made Possible”: Excerpts from Virtual Conversations Jerome S. Bruner (with Liora Bresler)

655

667

Section 6 Museums and Cultural Centers Section Editor: Elizabeth Vallance 45

Prelude: Museums, Cultural Centers, and What We Don’t Know Elizabeth Vallance

673

Table of Contents

The Role of Theater in Museums and Historic Sites: Visitors, Audiences, and Learners Catherine Hughes, Anthony Jackson, and Jenny Kidd International Commentary 46.1 Taiwan: Wei-Ren Chen

679

697

Questions Asked in Art-museum Education Research Elizabeth Vallance International Commentary 47.1 Denmark: Helene Illeris

701

Interlude: Art Information, Arts Learners: The Role of Libraries David Carr

721

“Private Teaching, Private Learning”: An Exploration of Music Instrument Learning in the Private Studio, Junior and Senior Conservatories Jane W. Davidson and Nicole Jordan International Commentaries 49.1 Sweden: Gunnar Heiling 49.2 Taiwan: Mei-Ling Lai 49.3 Brazil: Ana Lúcia Louro

Interlude: Cultural Centers and Strategies of Being: Creativity, Sanctuary, the Public Square, and Contexts for Exchange Mike Ross Music Beyond School: Learning through Participation Stephanie E. Pitts International Commentaries 51.1 Norway: Eiliv Olsen 51.2 Brazil: Walenia Marilia Silva

717

729

745 749 753 755 759

773 775

Part Two Section 7 Informal Learning Section Editor: Minette Mans 52

Prelude: Framing Informality Minette Mans

In the Beginning: Pleistocene and Infant Aesthetics and 21st-century Education in the Arts Ellen Dissanayake

Interlude: Two or More Forms of Music Tia DeNora

779

783 799

Table of Contents

Learning Aesthetic Values in African Musical Worlds Minette Mans International Commentaries 55.1 Ghana: Mary Priscilla Dzansi-McPalm 55.2 Norway: Eiliv Olsen

803

Interlude: An Ethnomusicological Perspective Bruno Nettl

829

Creative Media Cultures: Making and Learning Beyond the School Julian Sefton-Green and Elisabeth Soep International Commentary 57.1 Spain: José Luis Aróstegui

835

825 827

855

Section 8 Child Culture Section Editor: Christine Marmé Thompson 58

Prelude: The Arts and Children’s Culture Christine Marmé Thompson

Children as Agents in Dance: Implications of the Notion of Child Culture for Research and Practice in Dance Education Eeva Anttila

859

865

Musical Meaning in Children’s Cultures Patricia Shehan Campbell International Commentary 60.1 Denmark: Sven-Erik Holgersen

881

The Culture of Childhood and the Visual Arts Christine Marmé Thompson International Commentary 61.1 Italy: Vea Vecchi

899

Interlude: A Story of Visual Cultural and Pedagogical Webs Brent Wilson

917

Children’s Culture and Mimesis: Representations, Rubrics, and Research Stephani Etheridge Woodson

895

915

923

Section 9 Social and Cultural Issues Section Editors: Doug Risner and Tracie E. Costantino 64

Prelude: Social and Cultural Perspectives in Arts Education Research Doug Risner and Tracie E. Costantino

941

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Research on Drama and Theater for Social Change Laura A. McCammon

945

Critical Social Issues in Dance Education Research Doug Risner International Commentary 66.1 Finland: Eeva Anttila

965

Interlude: The Pulse of Art: What is and What Might be Madeleine Grumet

985

Social Issues in Music Education Bengt Olsson International Commentaries 68.1 Taiwan: Hsiao-Fen Chen 68.2 Japan: Koji Matsunubo

989

Master Narratives and Oppositional Texts: Aesthetics and Black Literature for Youth Violet J. Harris

983

1003 1005 1007

Interlude: War, Violence, and Peace in the Arts Nel Noddings

1021

Conflict and Peace: Challenges for Arts Educators Nurit Cohen Evron International Commentaries 71.1 Israel : Rivka Elkoshi 71.2 Norway: Kjell Skyllstad

1031

Social Issues in Art and Visual/Material Culture Education Elizabeth Garber and Tracie E. Costantino International Commentaries 72.1 Brazil: Ana Mae Barbosa 72.2 Denmark: Helene Illeris 72.3 Finland: Marjo Räsänen

1055

1049 1053

1071 1075 1079

Section 10 The Body Section Editor: Kimberly Powell 73

Prelude: Moving from Still Life: Emerging Conceptions of the Body in Arts Education Kimberly Powell The Body in a State of Music Wayne Bowman and Kimberly Powell International Commentary 74.1 Japan: Koji Matsunobu

1083 1087

1107

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Drama Education and the Body: “I Am, Therefore I Think” Christopher R. Osmond

1109

Student Bodies: Dance Pedagogy and the Soma Jill Green International Commentary 76.1 Finland: Eeva Anttila

1119

Interlude: Astonished by a Stone: Art and the Eloquence of Matter David Abram

1137

Extreme Bodies: The Body as Represented and Experienced through Critical and Popular Visual Culture Paul Duncum and Stephanie Springgay International Commentary 78.1 Denmark: Helene Illeris

The Body also has a History: A Critical Aesthetics for Arts Education Michael A. Peters

1133

1143

1159 1161

Section 11 Creativity Section Editor: Pamela Burnard 80

Prelude: Provocations in Creativity Research Pamela Burnard

1175

Creativity as Research Practice in the Visual Arts Graeme Sullivan International Commentary 81.1 Sweden: Lars Lindström

1181

Routes to Understanding Musical Creativity Pamela Burnard International Commentaries 82.1 Norway: Magne Espeland 82.2 Spain: Gabriel Rusinek 82.3 Hong Kong: Bo Wah Leung

1199

Artistic Creativity, Ethics, and the Authentic Self Bennett Reimer

1225

Conceptions of Creativity in Drama Education Kathleen Gallagher International Commentaries 84.1 Korea: Su-Jeong Wee 84.2 Taiwan: Wei-Ren Chen

1229

Interlude: The Art of Creativity Peter Abbs

1247

1195

1215 1219 1223

1241 1243

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Table of Contents

Human Music Rishma Dunlop International Commentary 86.1 Morocco: Abderrahmane Zouhir

1253

Creativity Research in Dance Carol M. Press and Edward C. Warburton International Commentary 87.1 Namibia: Minette Mans

1273

1271

1289

Section 12 Technology Section Editor: Peter R. Webster 88

Prelude: Knowledge, Skills, Attitudes, and Values: Technology and its Role in Arts Education Peter R. Webster

Digital Literacy: What it Means for Arts Education Ilana Snyder and Scott Bulfin

Computer-based Technology and Music Teaching and Learning: 2000–2005 Peter R. Webster International Commentary 90.1 Sweden: Göran Folkestad

Understanding the Message of the Medium: Media Technologies as an Aesthetic Karen Ferneding International Commentary 91.1 Spain: Dolores Álvarez

Interlude: Technology and Arts Education Bertram C. Bruce

Art Education Avatars in Cyberspace: Research in Computer-based Technology and Visual Arts Education Mary Stokrocki

Technology in Dance Education Mila Parrish

1293 1297

1311

1329 1331

1353 1355

1361 1381

Section 13 Spirituality Section Editor: Rita L. Irwin 95

Prelude: Plumbing the Depths of Being Fully Alive Rita L. Irwin

1401

Table of Contents

Spirituality in the Musical Experience June Boyce-Tillman International Commentary 96.1 Lebanon: Ibrahim H. Baltagi

1405

Japanese Spirituality and Music Practice: Art as Self-cultivation Koji Matsunobu International Commentaries 97.1 Hong Kong: Chi Cheung Leung 97.2 Thailand: Somchai Trakarnrung

1425

Interlude: The Force that Rides the Sound Meki Nzewi

1443

The Soul Moves: Dance and Spirituality in Educative Practice Celeste N. Snowber International Commentary 99.1 Namibia: Minette Mans

1449

100 Interlude: Astonishing Wonder: Spirituality and Poetry in Educational Research Monica Prendergast and Carl Leggo

1423

1439 1441

1457 1459

101 Concerning the Spiritual in Art Education Peter London International Commentary 101.1 Jordan: Mohamad S. Shaban

1479

102 Interlude: Education, Spirituality, and the Arts Kieran Egan

1495

103 Spiritual Ecology in Art Education: A Re-vision of Meaning Sally Gradle

1501

Authors’ Biographies

1517

International Advisory Board-Biographies

1545

Subject Index

1555

Author Index

1583

1493

INTRODUCTION

Liora Bresler

Over the past 40 years, a quiet development has been taking place – a positioning of the individual arts and the respective disciplines of arts education within a larger umbrella of “The Arts.” At the institutional tertiary level, the disciplines of music, visual art, dance, and drama and the various disciplines of arts education are often housed within one college. This location has intellectual and political ramifications. The umbrella of “arts education,” for example, proved to be a powerful tool in forming the arts component in the National and State Standards in the United States. In working on Goals 2000, the arts education organizations – National Art Education Association, Music Education National Conference, the American Alliance for Theater and Education, and the National Dance Association came together to forge a common vision and coordinate shared goals. At the artistic level, we are increasingly witnessing the generation of innovative artwork with mixed forms of representation, where the visual, auditory, and kinesthetic combine to create new types of art. This development has not transformed the arts disciplines. The individual disciplines have maintained their distinctive identities, organizations, traditions, and areas of practice and scholarship. What this reframing and its institutional, curricular, and artistic structures generate is a productive tension between the individual arts disciplines and the larger arena that is referred to as “arts” and “arts education.” This productive tension creates interest in learning about existing practice and research in the various arts education communities to explore ways that they can cross-fertilize each other. Intensified cross-fertilization is part of a larger characteristic of the twenty-first century, manifested in both artistic and intellectual spheres: the softening of boundaries (Detels, 1999) between what used to be solid concepts and domains. Softer boundaries allow border crossing (Giroux, 1992). Within the individual arts disciplines, crossing borders is manifested in the juxtaposition of artistic genres and styles. For example, performance centers traditionally dedicated to classical music now host what used to be “music untouchables” (Nettl, 1995) – music typically played in night clubs. Similarly, leading classical musicians such as Yo Yo Ma, Nigel Kennedy, and xvii L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, xvii–xxiv. © 2007 Springer.

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Daniel Barenboim cross musical genres to perform folk and indigenous musics of various cultures, as well as popular music and rock. Crossing boundaries is evident in our conceptualization of knowledge and its reorganizations into new disciplines. I regard the concept of discipline as an open-ended one, much like the concept of art (Weitz, 1956). In order to exist, it needs boundaries. At the same time, to maintain its vibrancy and cutting-edge quality, it needs to be able to extend these boundaries, to venture into new territories. Cross-fertilization is manifested at the university level with the emergence of hybrid disciplines, such as biophysics, molecular biology, computational neuroscience, social psychology, and psychological economics. What does this mean for the interaction of the disciplines of arts education with other disciplines? Crossing borders is not a new phenomenon for arts education. In the past, arts educators reached out to other scholarly disciplines, initially to legitimize and strengthen their position in the school curriculum. A familiar example from the United States was in the “post-Sputnik” era of the late 1950s and 1960s, when the heightened attention to science and mathematics prompted all school disciplines to articulate rationales in order to justify their existence. Music and art educators realized that they, too, needed an explicit, solid basis for their subject to secure its place in public schooling. In this endeavor, the discipline of philosophy provided arguments articulating a broad educational role for the arts, highlighting cognitive aspects and connecting them intimately to what has traditionally been regarded as the essence of art: affect (e.g., Broudy, 1958, 1972; Langer, 1957). In establishing cognition as fundamental for the arts, psychology, too, provided useful support (e.g., Arnheim, 1966, 1974; Meyer, 1956; for more recent empirical psychological research on the cognitive merits of the arts, see Rauscher, Shaw, & Ky, 1993; Rauscher et al., 1997). If the flow of ideas and findings from philosophy and psychology was generated by policy and a need for advocacy, it ended up affecting the conceptualization and practice of arts education. For example, the philosophical area of aesthetics shaped the curriculum movement of Discipline Based Arts Education, as did the discipline of art history (Dobbs, 1998; Greer, 1984; MacGregor, 1997). The change of research climate as part of the post-modern paradigm has also affected research in arts education. In the 1980s and 1990s, we note a framing of the arts within broad sociocultural ideas and contexts (e.g., Lave & Wenger, 1991; Vygotsky, 1986; Wenger, 1998) in ways that further expanded the theory and practice of the arts. Anthropological and sociological perspectives view the arts as reflecting a society and what it values (e.g., Geertz, 1976; Small, 1998), serving as social and political tools; such lenses draw attention to the communal and spiritual roles in diverse cultures (e.g., Ajayi, 1996; Blacking, 1995; Nzewi, 1978/9; Yanagi, 1989). Examinations of other cultures serve to “make the strange familiar,” and at the same time, can “make the familiar strange,” helping us discern implicit value systems in our own cultures. The handbook is based on this dialectic of familiar and strange, autonomous disciplines and soft boundaries. It is grounded in the distinct traditions and areas of scholarship within a specific arts discipline, but with a view to outlining connections and common principles, where individual chapters are placed within a larger perspective. The handbook does not propose to blur the distinctions among the various disciplines of arts education. Rather, it aims to cultivate an awareness among the various arts

Introduction

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education communities about compelling, relevant literatures in their “sister” disciplines, and to foster communication and dialogue among these communities in order to enrich knowledge and informed practice. To this end, most individual chapters focus on one subject (e.g., music education, dance education), while seeking to draw connections and communicate with readers across the various arts education disciplines. These connections are highlighted by the organization of chapters within sections. To summarize, this handbook aims at two related functions. On one level, the handbook is expected to be a distillation of knowledge in the respective disciplines of dance, drama, literature, music, and visual arts education, with inclusion, when relevant, of media. It is meant to be a standard volume that synthesizes an existing scholarship, helping define and shape the past and present, and point to the future of that discipline. In that respect, its purpose is to address, interpret and organize a field of research within arts education, mapping theoretical and practical directions, and providing conceptual definition to an area of inquiry. More than an object, the power of this handbook is in the processes it sets in motion, its generative momentum, its ability to frame significant themes, juxtapose interpretations, launch new directions, and propel people to pursue innovative directions. Its second function is based on the assumption that communication among the arts disciplines will advance each of them individually and facilitate cross-fertilization. Accordingly, in searching for topics and scholars, I aimed at a balance among the arts disciplines. I was cautious about overreliance on the perspectives of the two arts disciplines with longer traditions and wider practice – music and visual arts education, and underrepresentation of dance and drama. I found the inclusion of poetry and literature to be generative in that it provides additional important lenses to conceptualize the arts disciplines. Literature and poetry, though often not included in the institutional and political “Arts” umbrella, share with the arts a deep aesthetic tradition and rich scholarship, as well as aesthetic goals, contents, and pedagogies. In addition to the individual arts education frameworks, the chapters are informed by diverse theoretical frameworks. These include aesthetics, anthropology, cultural psychology, cultural studies, critical theory, sociology, and curriculum theories, among others, illustrating the interdisciplinary nature of contemporary educational thinking and research. Another principle that shaped the contents and structure of the handbook is its commitment to international perspectives. Indeed, the scholarship outside the mainstreams of academia in North America, England and Australia is significant and compelling. International literature is reported by some 50 International Advisory Board members from six continents and 35 countries. Serving as windows or appetizers (depending on one’s view and relationship to scholarship) to diverse cultural contexts, these commentaries, placed at the end of the chapters, include summaries of research and scholarship in some 20 languages. Existing as an underlying assumption, more understated but not least important is the commitment to the living presence of art. All of us, in the various disciplines of arts education, have come to be where we are out of love of the arts. While research can at times seem distant from the experience of art, this handbook aspires, through loosely structured interludes, to maintain connection with artistic experiences.

Bresler

In terms of organization, the handbook is organized into 13 sections, each centering on a key area in arts education research. Preludes, written by the Section Editors, introduce the theme of the section, providing context and conceptual frameworks. The individual chapters typically address cross-cultural research related to the central theme of the section from the perspectives of the particular art discipline (i.e., music, visual art, dance, drama, literature, and on occasion, media). Interludes provide reflective, often expressive and poetic meditations on the theme. In the spirit of soft boundaries, issues and themes could belong to more than one section. For example, informal learning, while it exists as a section of its own, is clearly ever-present, in the strictest of formal setting as well as in the more laissez-faire settings of cultural centers. Creativity underlies all human endeavors, as do the body, social issues, and technology in its broadest sense. And each of these themes has a history, often a rich one. Specific themes, such as metaphor, for example, were identified in various sections (in this case, in composition, appreciation, informal learning, and the body). These recurrent themes operate much like a sonata with its separate movements but shared motifs. The “planned handbook” provided a solid model for the “operational handbook.” But in the process of becoming the organic body that it is, as all processes do, it assumed a life of its own. Part of the work of this editor involved facilitating exchange of drafts between authors, both within as well as across sections; this helped authors stay aware of what others were doing. In that sense, the handbook is a huge mosaic with striking themes and emerging patterns. It is, of course people who construct themes, play with boundaries, and do the unexpected. Bob Stake, for example, who initially opted to write for the evaluation section, became caught up by Maxine Greene’s interlude on Appreciation and wrote his own interlude as a response to hers, crossing from one section to another. Another example of the handbook’s emergent process occurred after two authors in two independent sections who did not know each other read each other’s preliminary drafts; Julian Sefton-Green and Lissa Soep then chose to merge their chapters. Initial chapters by Monica Prendergast and Carl Leggo’s, as well as Rishma Dunlop’s, assumed the form and style of poetic interludes. As important as what is in a handbook is what is not included, the null. One early decision was to leave out explicit discussion of research methodologies and methodological issues, too vast and complex to be treated with the dignity and the thoroughness they deserve. Other key areas that are not included are teacher education and policy. Every project is embedded within a concrete set of circ*mstances. This book started as an invitation over breakfast during a conference of the American Education Research Association, following my editorship of a book series on arts education. That invitation, from what was then Kluwer Publishing (now Springer) resonated with my interest in having the various communities of arts education gather around a set of issues and a joint mission. My own history involved crossing intellectual as well as geographical borders. In my earlier role as a musician, my thesis in musicology observed how history and ideology shaped artistic styles: while focusing on music, I also noted similar patterns in the visual arts, literature, dance and drama (Bresler, 1982, 1985). Crossing geographical borders when moving to the United States was equally formative in alerting me to the power of multiple cultural perspectives in facilitating perceptions and

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interpretations (Bresler, 2002). The excitement of creating this space for the various communities of arts education was directly related to my own crossings which I found to be immensely enriching journeys.

Acknowledgments Handbooks are, by nature, collaborative work. This particular handbook involved many hundreds of people. It was, to draw on the common adage, raised by a whole village, one that, in its scope, felt as big as a city, but (miraculously) was able to maintain the closeness and caring of a smaller community. The role of section editors – Gordon Cox, Sue Stinson, Regina Murphy, Magne Espeland, Sarah McCarthey, Margaret Barrett, Beau Vallance, Minette Mans, Tina Thompson, Doug Risner, Tracie Costantino, Pam Burnard, Kim Powell, Peter Webster, and Rita Irwin, cannot be overly emphasized. This project would not be possible without them. Grounded within various arts disciplines – music, visual art, literature, and dance – and different countries, including the United States, Canada, England, Australia, Namibia, Ireland, and Norway, they were deeply wise, thoughtful, and hard working. Generous beyond the call of duty, they showed an impressive ability to care about larger ideas as well as great attention to detail (and there were lots of both!). I could not have imagined better, kinder and wiser companions along this fascinating road. This book, a collage of more than 100 pieces, was created by 116 authors, leading scholars in the disciplines of arts education. Mostly North Americans, British, and Australians, this group too encompassed diverse countries, from the Netherlands, Finland, Sweden and Denmark, to Nigeria, Cyprus, Israel and Japan. Clearly, this handbook is based on their knowledge, wisdom, and commitment to the field and to this project. Another crucial yet invisible group is the reviewers. Each chapter was reviewed by at least four (including section editor and editor) people, often more. These reviewers, listed at the front of the handbook, undertook the important task of providing informed, thorough feedback. A handbook of Arts Education cannot be complete without art. I am deeply indebted to Jana Mason, an acknowledged and inspiring visual artist with a deep commitment to education. Previously a prominent scholar in educational psychology, Jana has worked diligently and artistically to create images for the sections. Tracie Costantino and Su-Jeong Wee did an outstanding job of helping with central aspects of editorial and management work. Gabriel Rusinek, provided a generous, highly skilled proof reading and invaluable feedback at the very last stage. Their dedication and great attention to detail, as well as sound advice and wisdom in various aspects of this project is greatly appreciated. I could not wish for better teammates at the publishing house – initially Michel Lokhorst, then Harmen van Paradijs. Harmen’s work through the various stages of the manuscript was exemplary – prompt, judicious, ever attentive, always insightful, combining attention to detail with deep understanding of the bigger picture. In her position as Editorial Director of Social Issues, Myriam Poort was gracious as she was wise, helping in difficult moments to negotiate between the ideals of scholarship and the aim

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of wide accessibility and commercial interests. Bernadette Deelen provided the needed technical support. Marianna Pascale manifested extraordinary skills and dedication to this project, proving to be thorough, thoughtful, and gracious even at situations that would have been overwhelming for any other person. John Normansell, from the production end, worked tirelessly and with impressive commitment, late nights and weekends, to create the final version of this work. Finally, I would like to dedicate this handbook to all those that inspired me in the various domains of life, artistically and intellectually. These include my teachers, friends, colleagues, students, children, and foremost, my husband – Yoram.

References Ajayi, O. S. (1996). In contest: The dynamics of African religious dances. In K. Welsh-Asante (Ed.), African dance: An artistic, historical and philosophical inquiry (pp. 183–202). Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Arnheim, R. (1966). Towards a psychology of art. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Arnheim, R. (1974). Art and visual perception. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Blacking, J. (1995). Music, culture, and experience. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Bresler, L. (1982). The Mediterranean style in Israeli music. [in Hebrew] Master’s thesis in Musicology, Tel Aviv University, Israel. Bresler, L. (1985, December). The Mediterranean manifests in the musical style in Israel. [in Hebrew] Cathedra, 38, 137–160. Bresler, L. (2002). The interpretive zone in international qualitative research. In L. Bresler & A. Ardichvili (Eds.), International research in education: Experience, theory and practice (pp. 39–81). New York: Peter Lang. Broudy, H. (1958). A realist philosophy of music education. In N. Henry (Ed.), Basic concepts in music education (Part I, pp. 62–87). Chicago: University of Illinois. Broudy, H. (1972). Enlightened cherishing: An essay on aesthetic education. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Detels, C. (1999). Soft boundaries: Re-visioning the arts and aesthetics in American education. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Dobbs, S. (1998). Learning in and through art: A guide to discipline based art education. Los Angeles, CA: Getty Education Institute for the Arts. Geertz, C. (1976). Art as a cultural system. MLN, 91, 1473–1499. Giroux, H. (1992). Border crossings. New York: Perigee Books. Greer, D. (1984). Discipline-based art education: Approaching art as a subject of study. Studies in Art Education, 25(4), 212–218. Langer, S. K. (1957). Problems of art. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge University Press. MacGregor, R. N. (1997). Editorial: The evolution of discipline-based art education. Visual Arts Research, 23(2), 1–3. Meyer, L. B. (1956). Emotion and meaning in music. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Nettl, B. (1995). Heartland excursions. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Nzewi, M. (1978/9). Folk music in Nigeria: A communion. African Music, 6(1), 6–21. Rauscher, F., Shaw, G., & Ky, K. (1993). Music and spatial task performance. Nature, 365(6447), 611. Rauscher, F., Shaw, G., Levine, L. J., Wright, E. L., Dennis, W. R., & Newcomb, R. L. (1997). Music training causes long-term enhancement of preschool children’s spatial – temporal reasoning. Neurological Research, 19(1), 1–8. Small, C. (1998). Musicking. Hanover: Wesleyan University Press.

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Vygotsky, L. (1986). Thought and language (A. Kozulin, Trans. & Ed.). Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University. Weitz, M. (1956). The role of theory in aesthetics. Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 15(1), 27–35. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. New York: Cambridge University Press. Yanagi, S. (1989). The unknown craftsman. Tokyo: Kodansha International.

LIST OF REVIEWERS

Ellis, Viv Farrell, Lindsay f*ck, Candace Fels, Lynn Flood, Adele Forrest, David Glover, Jo Gruhn, Wilfried Hagood, Tom Hall, James Hannah, Judith Lynne Harwood, Eve Hawisher, Gail Hebert, David Hennessy, Sarah Henry, Carole Hermans, Peter Hickey, Maude Hilton, Mary Hohr, Hansjörg Holgersen, Sven-Erik Hopmann, Stefan Humphreys, Jere James, Jodie Kan, Koon-Hwee Karpati, Andrea Keifer-Boyd, Karen Kemp, Tony Kerr-Berry, Julie Kindler, Anna Kolcio, Katja Lavender, Larry Leong, Sam Leshnoff, Susan

Abbs, Peter Apol, Laura Aróstegui, José Luis Bai, Heesoon Barone, Tom Barrett, Margaret Barrett, Terry Blandy, Doug Boey, Kim Cheng Bond, Karen Bowman, Wayne Bruce, Bertram Bumgarner Gee, Constance Burn, Andrew Carspecken, Phil Chalmers, Graeme Chappell, Kerry Cope, Peter Costantino, Tracie Custodero, Lori Dahl, Karin Day, Christopher Delacruz, Elizabeth Denton, Diana Desai, Dipti Dhillon, Pradeep Dimitriadis, Greg Doddington, Chris Doll, Mary Aswell Donelan, Kate Dressman, Mark Duncum, Paul Dzansi-McPalm, Mary Elliott, David

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List of Reviewers

Leung, Chi Cheung Lindström, Lars Lubeck, Loren Machee, Diane Mackey, Sally Mans, Minette Marques, Isabel Marsh, Jackie Marsh, Kathryn Matsunobu, Koji McCammon, Laura McPherson, Gary Miller, Carole Mockabee, Valarie Montgomery, Janet Morrison, Morag Murphy, Regina Neall, Leslie Neelands, Jonathan Nixon, Helen O’Farrell, Larry Olsen, Eiliv Olsson, Bengt O’Neill, Cecily O’Sullivan, Carmel Pariser, David Parsons, Michael Perpener, John Prentki, Tim Press, Carol Prior, Paul Reese, Sam Rolfe, Linda Saldana, Johnny Samson, Adrienne Saxton, Juliana

Schonmann, Shifra Shaban, Mohammad Shapiro, Sherry Shiel, Gerry Shurkin, David Sims, Wendy Slattery, Patrick Smith, Mary Lynn Smith-Shank, Debbie Soren, Barbara Soter, Anna Stauffer, Sandra Stinson, Susan Stokrocki, Mary Sweeney, Robert Stubley, Eleanor Szatkowski, Janek Taylor, Pamela Thompson, Christine Thompson, Dan Thunder-McGuire, Steve Tonfoni, Graziela Trakarnrung, Somchai Upitis, Rena van de Water, Manon Veblen, Kari Vogt, Jürgen Warburton, Ted Warner, Christine Weber, Sarah Welch, Graham White, John Howell Whyte, Alyson Williams, Patterson Wing, Lizabeth

Section 1 HISTORY Section Editor: Gordon Cox

PRELUDE 1 SOME CROSSING POINTS IN CURRICULUM HISTORY, HISTORY OF EDUCATION AND ARTS EDUCATION Gordon Cox University of Reading, U.K.

The opening of this Handbook deals with historical research in arts education, which is appropriate as all the arts have their roots in a variety of historical antecedents. Although historical studies of the arts in education have been sparse, the two related research fields of the history of curriculum, and the history of education offer a discourse to which arts education researchers can make a distinctive contribution. According to the curriculum historian, Herbert M. Kliebard (1992), the curriculum can be seen as an invaluable relic in an archeological sense, of the forms of knowledge, social values, and beliefs that have achieved a special status in a given time or place. But competing doctrines have been, and still are, in a constant struggle for dominance: “curriculum historians play a particularly valuable role in unearthing and rendering visible the longstanding contested terrain of the curriculum” (Franklin, 1999, p. 476). In his historical perspective of the arts in the curriculum, George Geahigan (1992) explores some of these competing doctrines. He argues that the drive toward universal mass education in the nineteenth century challenged arts educators, who offered a variety of rationales for the introduction of these subjects into the curriculum. There were appeals to tradition, to the contribution of the arts to the development of mental faculties, to practicality closely allied to vocational skills, and to the arts as a means of fostering ideals and promoting morality. But this variety of rationales, according to Geahigan, was symptomatic of a deep-seated ambivalence about the educational significance and value of the arts (apart from literature because of its ties to the language arts). In a recent paper, Ellen Condliffe Lagemann (2005) takes up the seeming fragility of the humanities and the arts in the curriculum when she asks the question, “Does History Matter in Education Research?” She argues that history has the power to capture the imagination particularly when it connects with enduring dilemmas or current puzzles, so that we can see the present in more depth. One such enduring problem lies in understanding why the arts in education appear to be constantly under siege. Historical research might help us in this regard: “understanding must be a first step toward corrective action” (p. 21). In that sense presentist concerns “encourage one to 3 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 3–6. © 2007 Springer.

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understand the past on its own terms, as different from the present, and in drawing such a contrast help to illuminate both past and present” (p. 17). While curriculum history for the most part focuses on formal educational settings, the history of education as a discipline has long since moved away from a concentration on “the great educators,” the history of institutions and administration (acts and facts), and a celebration of state-sponsored education since the nineteenth century. From the late 1960s it has achieved much in its embrace of a whole raft of approaches that Cohen (1999) has detailed, including social control and social conflict, urban history, family history, history of women, history of people of color, history of religious minorities, and history “from the bottom up.” However, even this is not an exhaustive list. Other significant influences have included functionalism, Marxism, and poststructuralism. Historians of education are increasingly drawing upon aspects of sociology, cultural studies, and anthropology in their research. Each chapter in this section takes up some of these ideas from curriculum history and the history of education. Mary Ann Stankiewicz describes herself as a map-maker, mapping visual art education history in terms of the formation and transmission of capital, drawing on the work of Pierre Bourdieu. This leads her to ideas from postcolonialism to make sense of the dissemination of British, European, and North American modes of art education through cultural imperialism and economic globalization. Essentially she concludes that the motivating force for the development of art education has often been the need for a dominant culture to retain or export symbolic capital. Stankiewicz’s use of the geographical metaphor of mapping, with Bourdieu’s theory as the projection of the map, and a further set of concepts from his work as coordinates, provides us with a space within which connections can be made and historical understanding located (also see McCarthy, 2003). It was the intention of Gordon Cox, in his chapter on music, to explore the different but related settings of family, church and school in relation to the teaching and the learning of music. Behind this lay a concern to understand the power of informal musical learning, the influence of “music education for religious conversion,” and the way in which music teaching was adapted to meeting the needs of mass schooling. In such ways his chapter offers suggestions for expanding the scope of historical research in music education by including a close reading of context, attention to accounts and experiences of teaching and learning music, and encompassing a broad range of musical genres. Gavin Bolton in his history of drama education presents images of the mosaic of activities that have occurred in schools as “drama education.” He concentrates on trying to untangle the confused strands of classroom drama. Although Bolton’s starting point is Great Britain he manages to convey the burgeoning influence of drama education internationally. Of particular interest are the conflicts among the different ideologies represented by “playway,” “creative dramatics,” “process drama,” “children’s theatre,” “child drama,” “creative drama,” “living through” drama, and “applied theatre.” The more recent notion of using theater to engage with the oppressed, and addressing a range of problematic issues including child abuse and AIDS challenge drama educators to apply meticulous judgment in developing such work effectively. Bolton’s historical perspective should serve to help arts educators think about the need to discern substance from shadow.

History of Education and Arts Education

In her historical treatment of dance education, Ann Dils focuses chiefly on American colleges and universities. Interestingly she points out that teaching dance in the early twentieth century offered, to women in particular, opportunities for a new profession. But at the root of her discussion is the “schizophrenia of dance in academia,” and the question, “Where does it belong?” On the one hand dance had a close relationship with physical education, but on the other there was a trend to establishing it within departments of fine arts. Dils’s listing of future research possibilities includes the development of a combination of social history and biography relating to how dance operates within an educational context. This reminds us of Barbara Finkelstein’s resonant phrase about the use of biography in relation to the study of educational history “biography is to history what the telescope is to the stars” (Finkelstein, 1998, p. 45). Finally, Alyson Whyte in her chapter on English Language Arts, contrasts teaching as replication, with an approach that emphasizes the experience of poetic language, itself particularly influenced by rational humanism and the Progressivist curriculum ideology. She then charts the rise of multi-literacies and new literacies in which students use multiple forms of representation. The 1990s witnessed the influence of the technical environment which has emphasized measuring and comparing schools’ outcomes across and within countries. Whyte’s hope is that support will be forthcoming for the view that the subject matter cannot be reduced productively to atomistic, routine tasks, but rather should be taught with the intention of fostering teachers’ and students’ mutual experience of poetic language. Readers will become aware that each author takes a distinct historical perspective, and some are broader and wider than others. Nevertheless certain themes recur: ●

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Conflicting views amongst philosophers, politicians, and religious authorities about “the right place” of the arts in education, leading to their often problematic status particularly in formal educational settings. The dissemination of Western approaches to arts education in non-Western societies through colonialism and imperialism. The powerful influence of educational progressivism on the teaching of the arts, which also highlights the conflict between subject-centered and student-centered approaches to learning. The pressures of adapting effective arts education programs to utilitarian educational philosophies. Aspects of gender related to providing equal access to, and participation in the arts in education. The crucial and distinctive role historical research can play in relating the past to the present and the present to the past.

These chapters represent a beginning effort to bring together the separate but connected histories of the arts in education, with the intention of seeing the past on its own terms in order to see the present in more depth. Consequently arts educators may not only be able to imagine the past, but might also play a more powerful role in the crucial debate about the present and the future of the arts in education.

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References Cohen, S. (1999). Challenging orthodoxies: Toward a new cultural history of education. New York: Peter Lang. Finkelstein, B. (1998). Revealing human agency: The uses of biography in the study of educational history. In C. Kridel (Ed.), Writing educational biography: Explorations in qualitative research (pp. 45–49). New York: Garland. Franklin, B. (1999). Review essay: The state of curriculum history. History of Education, 28(4), 459–476. Geahigan, G. (1992). The arts in education: A historical perspective. In B. Reimer & R. A. Smith (Eds.), The arts, education, and aesthetic knowing (pp. 1–19). Chicago: National Society for the Study of Education. Kliebard, H. M. (1992). Constructing a history of the American curriculum. In P. W. Jackson (Ed.), Handbook of research on curriculum: A project of the American educational research association (pp. 157–84). New York: MacMillan. Lagemann, E. C. (2005). Does history matter in education research? A brief for the humanities in an age of science, Harvard Educational Review, 75(1), 9–23. McCarthy, M. (2003). The past in the present: revitalising history in music education. British Journal of Music Education, 20(3), 121–134.

2 CAPITALIZING ART EDUCATION: MAPPING INTERNATIONAL HISTORIES Mary Ann Stankiewicz Pennsylvania State University, U.S.A.

Histories of visual arts education may be framed in various ways. Historical periods, geopolitical entities, nationalism, networks of international influences, topics, or themes each might provide a framework or be combined to shape international history. Following Pearse’s (1997) speculation about the history of Canadian art education, one might use a geographical, political scheme (examining art teaching and learning in turn in European, North and South American, Asian, Australia and Pacific Island, and African countries) or structure a story into historical periods. Such periods might include: (1) a prehistory of informal means of art education up to the Renaissance in European-dominated nations, roughly ca. 100 BCE-ca. 1600, later in the Pacific Rim or tricontinental sites (Young, 2001, 2003)1; (2) artist education and liberal art education for elite amateurs in the context of national formation, ca. 1600–1800; (3) emerging capitalism and middle-class aspirations, ca. 1800–1850 and later; (4) industrial drawing systems, dominated by South Kensington in English-speaking countries and colonies, ca. 1850–1910; (5) ideology of the self-expressive child artist, ca. 1910–1960; (6) turn toward intellectual rigor, ca. 1960 to the present. A third way of framing an international history of art education might be in relation to forming or maintaining national identity, a theme found in a number of written histories (Araño, 1992; Boschloo, 1989; Kraus, 1968; Masuda, 2003; Petrovich-Mwaniki, 1992). A fourth approach might be to map the complex web of influences from Western to the Pacific Rim and tricontinental countries, and, in some cases, back again (Barbosa, 1992; Boughton, 1989; Chalmers, 1985, 1992b; Foster, 1992; Okazaki, 1987, 1991, 1992; Rogers, 1992; van Rheeden, 1992). Freedman and Hernandez identify several waves of European influence on international art education, and, like Efland, position art education as a school subject, making history of art education a subset of curriculum history (Efland, 1990; Freedman & Hernandez, 1998).

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Projection and Coordinates for One Historical Map This chapter will treat the development of art education as an international professional field in contexts of cultural change and social factors that include technological and institutional development. Drawing on theoretical work by the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, I will map visual art education history in terms of the formation and transmission of capital – human capital, cultural capital, social capital, and economic capital (Bourdieu, 1983, 1984, 1996; Bourdieu & Darbel, 1990; Fauconnier, 1997; Storr, 1994).2 Given that this framework privileges Western, developed nations, I will draw on postcolonialism as a way to give art learners a stronger voice while reminding myself and readers that art education can be found outside formal, state-supported schools, meeting individual desires as well as social needs. Bourdieu (1983) defines capital as a force or power inscribed in the objectivity of things. In its primary usage, capital refers to an objectified or embodied potential capacity to produce financial profits, but Bourdieu uses it metaphorically, as in references to social capital or educational capital, both of which may be allied with possession of economic capital and enhanced life chances. Bourdieu asserts that “it is in fact impossible to account for the structure and functioning of the social world unless one reintroduces capital in all its forms and not solely in the one form recognized by economic theory” (1983, p. 242). He analyzes dynamics of four types of capital: economic, cultural, social, and symbolic. Works of visual art become economic capital when they are created, sold to collectors, then re-sold to other collectors or donated to a museum. Art objects can be converted to money (economic capital) and institutionalized in the form of property rights or ownership. As cultural capital, visual arts contribute to the class status of those who not only own art objects, but, more importantly, respond to art works and consume works of visual culture. From Bourdieu and Darbel’s (1990) sociological perspective, reception of art works depends on the complexity and sophistication of artistic codes in relation to an individual’s mastery of social codes. Cultural capital signified economic capital, for example, when a young woman who received an ornamental education in the arts married a man of higher socioeconomic status. Educational qualifications, which can also be described as educational capital (and considered a subset of cultural capital), include the amount of formal schooling and number of diplomas or degrees one has. Thus, someone with greater expertise in the arts has higher cultural capital. Formal schooling institutionalizes cultural capital. Art education builds cultural capital whether it is part of formal or informal education. However, cultural capital can also be inherited and transmitted through families which engage with the arts, in such a way that it becomes a taken-for-granted part of one’s identity. Social capital refers to a network of friends or acquaintances; it can be converted into economic capital if a friend makes a loan and may be institutionalized through nobility or hierarchical social ranking. Participation in professional associations builds social capital in a specific field. Symbolic capital is, from Bourdieu’s (1996) perspective, a kind of capital that denies its potential economic value, instead asserting its power as art for art’s sake. Although an artist might earn a living producing art, some works have value beyond their material costs. Within a broad context of twentieth-century

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visual culture, Duchamp’s The Large Glass has high symbolic capital, but popular magazine illustrations are generally regarded as more closely tied to economic capital than to symbolic capital. Child art has functioned as symbolic capital signifying humanistic values of free self-expression in the educational systems of modern capitalist societies. A fifth type of capital discussed in histories of education is human capital (Spring, 2004). This term refers to the functions of education, often exercised through formal schooling, that select people for particular occupations but also transmit skills to make individuals more productive in their work. Leaders of capitalist nations in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries argued that development of human capital is a major function of state-supported schooling. While one view of human capital, a sometimes dehumanized perspective, is top-down, individuals themselves seek skills and credentials that will enable them to get a job or find a better one. Thus, potential workers are interested in developing themselves as human capital. Art education functions to develop human capital and transmit cultural capital, purposes that sometimes seem to be at odds with each other, but that also touch on other forms of capital. One more set of concepts from Bourdieu’s work will serve as coordinates3 for this chapter, four concepts to be considered in examining the development of an intellectual or artistic field: autonomy, heteronomy, dualism, and temporality. Artistic/intellectual fields exercise both autonomy and heteronomy. Autonomy refers to claims that the field exists independently of social forces and is staffed by disinterested practitioners, that is, people who create art for the sake of creating art, not for personal power or celebrity or wealth. Bourdieu (1996) argues that attaining autonomy is a necessary step in the emergence of an intellectual field such as nineteenth-century French literature. At the same time, the field faces pressure toward heteronomy, demands that the field be sensitive to external demands. The visual arts, like literature, experienced both autonomy and heteronomy in the nineteenth century. Artworks were created specifically to be displayed in the museums which developed during this era, but artists also contributed to beautifying cities, decorating structures that housed art collections, planning parks to surround cultural destinations, and designing posters to tell visitors what they might see. Bourdieu (1996) argues that most artistic fields have a dualistic structure, encompassing both high forms that appeal to elite tastes and popular forms more likely to be enjoyed by a mass market. As we will see, art education has been dualistic in other ways as well. Finally, temporality refers to changes in position over time. Painters, for example, who constitute one generation’s avant-garde become traditionalists to their grandchildren. Expressionism and Fauvism were wild and shocking in the first years of the twentieth century; by the 1960s, variations on colorful, expressive paintings were the expected art-school style.

Artist and Artisan Education: Pre-History of Art Education As Efland wrote in his social history of art education: “as long as the arts have existed, artists, performers, and audience members have been educated for their roles” (1990, p. 1). In small-scale societies visual arts might play varied roles in culture. Objects

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could be created in ways that enhanced both beauty and function. Images might inspire and symbolize spiritual beliefs, guide actions, or recall past people or events. Ownership of artfully made objects might denote political power. Art learning in such societies was typically informal. Art-making abilities could be equated with spiritual power and taught to selected students by a religious leader. Parents might teach their own children, or young people with interests in particular skills could be apprenticed to an experienced worker, typically of the same gender, whose abilities might have led to special status (Teaero, 2002). Media came from the natural environment. Traditional Nigerian art forms included carving, mostly with wood; modeling vessels or sculpting figures with clay; body painting and wall decoration; calabash decoration; all types of weaving; and work in metals such as brass or bronze (Onuchukwu, 1994). In Oceania, groups who lived on islands able to sustain trees carved dugout canoes; those on coral atolls made vessels by lashing planks together (Teaero, 2002). While intra-Oceanic exchange of art forms or visual languages might influence tattooing or pottery, conformity and continuity characterized indigenous arts and other aspects of culture until contact with colonizers. Although capitalist interpretations of small-scale cultures are anachronistic, such societies typically ascribed high cultural, social, and symbolic power to practitioners of valued arts. Europeans and North Americans of European heritage have traced their artistic lineage to ancient Greece and Rome, looking to classical forms of art, discussions of aesthetic values, and models of education as precedents for visual art (Bennett, 1926; Efland, 1990; Macdonald, 2004). Dual attitudes toward the visual arts appear in the Greek separation of craft or manual arts from liberal arts, those suited to a free man or member of the ruling class. In Plato’s republic, music and poetry enjoyed higher status than visual art. The philosopher argued that, because physical objects were imitations of ideal forms, a painter who imitated in two dimensions the bed a carpenter created in three-dimensional form offered an imitation of an imitation that might show sensuous form but could never give reliable knowledge. The arts were expected to contribute to morality, as they did in smallscale societies, but their emotional appeal was, like their status as knowledge, suspect for its irrationality. Thus, art making was typically reserved for slaves and lower classes. Discussions about artistic and aesthetic qualities were the province of elite males, while women of all classes likely participated in textile arts, although documentary evidence for such work only exists from the European Middle Ages. In China two classes of painters existed: professional painters who were court artists or artisans, and literati or scholar-officials.4 According to Chinese sources, the first imperial art academy was established by the Song emperor, Huizong Zhao Jie in 1104 (Pan, 2002). In imperial art academies, as in later European art academies, copying from models was a primary method for teaching and learning; development of skills and technical competence were emphasized. The literati, on the other hand, were amateur painters who learned from peers or through self-study in their leisure time, simultaneously pursuing the Three Perfections – poetry, calligraphy, and painting. Original self-expression was more important for early literati painters than rendering a likeness. Proper attitude or Tao was more valued than skill; once the painter attained Tao, artistic creation would proceed unconsciously (Bush, 1971). However, by the late Ming dynasty (late fifteenth-early sixteenth century), the literati style had become more

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formalized and literati painters learned by faithful tracing or free-hand copying, as court artists did. Like the literati, many seventeenth-century British aristocrats were amateur artists who found drawing an enjoyable and useful way to document their travels or estates, plan gardens or buildings, record scientific experiments or objects collected. As virtuosi, a label borrowed from Italian, they were expected to collect objects of vertu, demonstrating connoisseurship and innate artistic taste but not the technical proficiency professional artists acquired through hard work (Sloan, 2000). Early evidence that European children drew comes from the Sixth Day of Boccaccio’s Decameron, written about 1350 (Brown University Department of Art, 1984). A storyteller compares the face typical of one particularly old family to “faces that little children make when they first learn how to draw” (p. 11). In medieval England, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, architecture, sculpture, painting and artistic crafts were not taught in schools but through guilds which provided training for boy apprentices (Sutton, 1967). Similar patterns can be found on the Continent as well. In France, the Church controlled training for artists who, seeking to exercise more self-control over their work, gradually formed guilds which eventually would be replaced by a state-sponsored academic system (Boime, 1971). Grammar schools, often staffed by male clergy, were exclusively male institutions, while nunnery schools taught weaving and sewing to female boarders from good families as well as to their own novices. Schools organized by religious orders typically served elite young people, although many had private tutors and education was not systematized. Writing, for example, was taught in schools for young boys as well as by traveling writing masters. In the late fifteenth century, Erasmus recommended that writing, because it was initially a form of drawing, be taught later than reading (Sutton, 1967). In 1531, Sir Thomas Elyot published The Boke named the Governour, the first English-language printed book on education. Focusing on education for noble children (those who might grow up to be governors of public welfare), Elyot recommended that children with a natural interest in drawing, painting or carving be allowed to develop it, not to become artisans, but to learn a skill useful in military campaigns, for illustrating math and science or history. Having developed this skill, the noble child would have better critical judgment and be able to adapt what was learned in art to support other subjects. Castaglione, whose book of dialogues on the proper education of courtiers was translated from Italian into English in 1536, recommended that a gentleman’s children learn painting as an initial step into the liberal arts, a means to follow the hand of the First Artist, and a study that required knowledge of many things. By the mid-sixteenth century, then, European and English societies were continuing the duality of skilled but menial artisans and elite amateurs found in Greece and China.

Formalizing Artist Education About 1488, Lorenzo de Medici opened his gardens for a school of painting and sculpture, laying a foundation for the first Italian academy of art. Florence’s Accademia del Disigno was established in 1563 as both a religious confraternity and an association

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for teaching painting, sculpture, and architecture (Boschloo et al., 1989). During its first half-century, the Accademia developed a curriculum, taught by master artists and invited scholars, which included five main components: (1) mathematics, the theoretical foundation for perspective and symmetry and a means to train eye and hand in drafting geometric forms; (2) anatomy and life drawing, supported by an annual dissection, usually in winter, so history painters would understand how the body made thoughts and passions visible; (3) natural philosophy, part of the curriculum by 1590, encompassed the theory of humors and physiognomy so that artists might better understand human motivations; (4) study of inanimate forms, that is, how to draw drapery; and (5) architectural principles. In apprenticeship, technique preceded theory, but the Accademia reversed this pattern, in part to raise the status of the artist. The Florentine Accademia was formally incorporated as a guild controlling all matters related to the production of the arts in 1584, when it was already serving as a model for artist academies in other Italian city-states. By the mid-seventeenth century, Louis XIV stopped importing Italian-trained artists, establishing a French royal academy to create an authoritative symbolic visual culture. Desires for national styles led artists in Britain, Mexico, the United States, and elsewhere to establish art academies as schools for professional and amateur artists during the eighteenth century. The central principle of the French academy, “Control instruction and you will control style,” continued well into the nineteenth century (Boime, 1971, p. 4). Following the French Revolution and rise of the bourgeoisie, royal patrons would be replaced by wealthy collectors from the upper middle class. Responding to the rise of Romanticism with its spontaneous, sketch-like execution and privileging of originality, leading French artists after about 1830 adopted a middle-of-the-road style that balanced painterly aspects of Romanticism with more linear academic classicism. Varied forms of art education existed in many parts of Europe and European colonies by late eighteenth century. Artist education had been formalized from apprenticeship to academic study, contributing to a rise in prestige for master artists. Formal and informal education for elite boys and girls typically included drawing as part of a liberal education, both enhancing and signifying their cultural capital. Male and female amateurs, again usually elites with both leisure and wealth, engaged in producing and consuming visual arts. The ability to talk critically about aesthetic qualities and issues was one mark that a gentleman possessed cultural capital; ladies, on the other hand, demonstrated their genteel femininity by drawing, painting in watercolors, or needlework. Lower class men and women might contribute to the production of artworks as skilled or semiskilled artisans, but were neither expected to appreciate the fine arts nor to possess cultural capital.

Emerging Capitalism and Middle-Class Aspirations In late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century England, but with parallels in other nations struggling with industrialization, urbanization, and development of capitalist economies, definitions of what it meant to be an artist were changing (Bermingham, 2000).5 Professional artists earned a living through painting, sculpture or another form

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of fine art; they had been educated in theory and practice through academic methods; their work met cultural expectations for originality. Workers in lower art forms, such as engraving or other craft practices, did not merit the label artist. Amateur artists tended to come from upper or middle classes, drawing or painting during their leisure time (Sloan, 2000). Although they might be taught by or exhibit with professional artists, they did not support themselves by making art, but, nonetheless, tended to have more cultural capital than professional artists did. By the latter part of the nineteenth century, however, amateur artists were stereotyped as female. Earlier male amateurs joined professional artists to establish local art societies for discussions, exhibitions, and education – something between a men’s club and a fraternal association that built members’ social capital. In these groups, self-interest dominated and instruction was for members, unlike the mechanic’s associations which opened lectures and discussions to working-class men as well as gentlemen. Many professional artists depended on the interests of amateurs for their livelihood, notably drawing masters whose primary source of income came from teaching. Drawing masters often began as itinerant artist-teachers, traveling about to take on commissions and offer lessons. Some of these itinerant drawing masters settled in towns large enough to support them, establishing drawing schools of their own or offering services to families or private schools. Many taught by making drawings or paintings for students to copy. Some drawing masters published collections of drawings, with or without instructional text, extending their reputations and pedagogy beyond immediate reach (Marzio, 1976). Beginning about 1800, British drawing masters developed progressive drawing books with sequenced drawings from simple to complex or demonstrations of stages from line drawing to finished watercolor. Beautifully engraved drawing books were aimed at leisure classes; other books, published by manufacturers, encouraged users to buy art materials. These drawing books reflected new, sequential printmaking processes as well as educational ideas from the Swiss theorists Rousseau and Pestalozzi. The drawing masters who wrote them were ancestors of professional art educators whose consciousness of their hybrid status would emerge late in the nineteenth century. In Emile, Rousseau suggested that an adult and a single, privileged child draw together, so that the child would improve from working with the more sophisticated adult. Rousseau also asserted that nature should be the primary teacher, eschewing drawing masters and their paper copies, in favor of drawing from observation to build a mental store of images (Sutton, 1967, p. 26). Rousseau’s ideas supported belief in natural talent and innate good taste, obscuring dynamics of cultural capitalization beneath a Romantic veil. Pestalozzi, on the other hand, developed instructional methods that could be used by relatively untrained teachers, including mothers and other women, who worked with large masses of children displaced by war, economic depression, or effects of the industrial revolution (Ashwin, 1980). Pestalozzi’s methods were based on his analysis of drawing as simply lines, angles, and curves. He believed that just as these elements could be combined to write letters and words, so also they could be used to convert weak sense impressions into clear ideas. Thus children would begin by imitating a teacher’s straight line, gradually building line segments into outline drawings of common objects printed in the drawing book. Pestalozzi argued that

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drawing was a necessary part of general education, crucial to harmonious development of the whole child. Rousseau and Pestalozzi, influenced by growing romanticism in art and ideas, emphasized the importance of educating the eye, training children to see clearly and accurately. In London, then competing with Paris as an international cultural capital, residents and visitors encountered “a visual culture full of diversions” (Bermingham, 2000, p. 134). Eighteenth-century ideals of civic humanism were giving way to a utilitarian philosophy that defined happiness in terms of wealth rather than political self-determination, favoring material progress over moral improvement. The visual arts continued to be used for civic improvement, but more and more politicians and policies encouraged national pride in manufactures and individual pleasure in consumption of goods. Cultural and economic capitals were intertwined. When faced with civil disturbances, upper-class political leaders renewed older notions that exposure to art encouraged morality, thus goods ambiguously connoted material and moral benefits. When discussed in relation to working classes, consumption of fine art became a tool for civic reform. Although the ideology of early nineteenth-century Britain created a supportive climate for professional work in art and design, Bermingham’s (2000) analysis emphasizes the social and material conditions for growing amateur interest in art. Galleries and shops in London displayed paintings, sculptures, ceramic wares and beautifully designed furnishings. Middle-class men and women in outlying areas read books and especially illustrated magazines that disseminated urban chic and taught good taste, encouraging desires for new fads and fashions. Not only did these publications create a market for British manufacturers, but they illustrated a new role for middle-class women as virtuous consumers. In Bourdieu’s (1996) terms, male professional artists exemplified autonomy of art expertise while female amateurs and consumers, for whom art education was a means to display patriotic responsibility as well as a fashionable pastime, illustrate heteronomy, the social dependence of art. Cycles of styles in painting and sculpture, architecture, and decorative arts demonstrate temporality, the fashionable style of one year becoming outdated and then revived. A number of dualities contributed to this art educational climate: producing art vs. consuming art; expert male professionals or dedicated connoisseurs vs. female amateurs and dilettantes; upper classes vs. lower, working classes. One of the most subtle dualities was the ability of participation in the arts to both affirm social expectations for feminine behavior and to subvert femininity. On the one hand, the arts were expected elements of female education and domestic life. Embroidery disciplined female bodies, focusing the senses and emotions (Parker, 1984). Responding to art offered intellectual stimulation and moral inspiration. Simultaneously, making art offered apparent self-determination and freedom, a chance for personal expression, while responding to art might expand the narrow female world. Women’s involvement with visual arts fell between professionalism and capitalism, the two major male discourses of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, according to Bermingham (2000, p. 180). Art works created by women were not commercialized; they entered a gift economy which was, nonetheless, embedded in the dominant culture of capitalism. Women’s art was supposed to be created out of affection for family and home. Female fancy work relied on decorative techniques that had vanished from manufacturing.

Capitalizing Art Education

The rhetoric of fancy work emphasized that it could be done in a short time, in brief moments snatched from other tasks; required minimal effort but gave rapid results; was imaginative rather than intellectual. Many forms of fancy work, like schoolgirl embroidery, depended on copying from prints, marking the woman amateur as a copyist, not an originator, and defining self-expression in terms of consumption. As more women became primary school teachers, these assumptions about femininity and art molded mass art education. Another duality pitted romantic ideals of the autonomous artistic genius against arguments that framed government support of art in terms of competition with manufacturers of other nations and dissemination of useful knowledge. Beginning about 1823, the British history painter Benjamin Robert Haydon petitioned Parliament for government support of visual arts, specifically historical paintings for public buildings (Bermingham, 2000; Macdonald, 2004). Haydon’s arguments grew out of his belief in male artistic genius (including his own) as well as his disdain for what he saw as commercialism and excessive self-interest in the Royal Academy of Art. He sought disinterested support of serious art, state encouragement of originality and autonomous genius, as opposed to economic self-interest. Ironically, eventual government authorization of government-funded art education was framed as supporting industrial competition and mass education.

Industrial Drawing Systems England approved establishment of a government-funded School of Design in 1835, providing a foundation for establishment of the Department of Science and Art in 1853 under the direction of Henry Cole. Most industrialized nations followed a similar pattern in disseminating drawing instruction through schools, developing state-supported schools to supplement or replace mixtures of church-supported and privately funded schools. Governments readily supported development of human capital to produce art goods and manufactures that could expand both economic and symbolic capital for nation-states. In Hungary, the 1777 legal code, the first to systematically describe the structure and content of education, included drawing as a compulsory subject at all levels of schooling (Karpati & Gaul, 1997). The second Austro-Hungarian educational code in 1806, however, abolished drawing from secondary grammar schools. Such schools, serving more elite students, offered art history, often taught by history or religion teachers, for knowledge and good taste, that is, cultural capital. Drawing schools were established from 1778 for visual rendering, but in state schools drawing was limited to the primary level only. Major motives in forming state systems of education were the need to educate poor children, to train workers for industry, and to control urban masses. Middle-class parents, acting out of self-interest, often supported the new public, common, or state schools as a way to maximize access to educational capital for their own children while stretching family economic resources. Elementary schools typically served the most children, often, as in the United States, under a rhetorical umbrella of equalizing opportunity for all. Secondary schools were more likely to serve middle-class needs for advanced schooling in preparation for

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business or higher education and as a source of cultural capital. An articulated school system trained docile, literate workers for industry as well as educating managers for business and home. Most nations, like England, Japan, European and South American countries, centralized control of education. In North America and Australia, most of the responsibility was exercised by provincial or state governments (Chalmers, 1993; Dimmack, 1955; Efland, 1990). As various nations established school systems, governments often sent a representative to other countries to compare school organization and curriculum., Uno Cygnaeus, Finland’s father of elementary schooling, traveled to Switzerland, Germany, Holland, Austria and Sweden to prepare an 1859 report (Laukka et al., 1992). His 1861 report brought ideas from Pestalozzi and Froebel to Finnish schools along with his arguments that drawing could teach planning and that handicrafts could educate the whole person through a work school (Pohjakallio, 1992). Drawing was listed among required subjects in the first Finnish elementary education act in 1866. Incorporating linear or industrial drawing in state schools was often part of a rationalization of education, an attempt to provide technical literacy that would meet the needs of industrial capitalism (Stevens, 1995). Better designed manufactured goods with more pleasing decorations were expected to improve a nation’s ability to compete on world markets. Mixed motives of national pride and economic competition were displayed in the series of international exhibitions of arts and industries, or world’s fairs, which began with the 1851 Crystal Palace Exhibition in London. The 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia provided Walter Smith, the first state drawing supervisor in the United States, with the opportunity to display students’ drawings and also to advise Americans on the best examples of household taste (Chalmers, 2000; Korzenik, 1985; Stankiewicz, 2001). The 1893 Chicago World’s Fair was the site not only for international displays on education in various nations but also of an International Congress of Art Instruction, the first in a series of international conferences that would enable art educators to share ideas and methods, building professional social capital (Steers, 2001). After making international comparisons, either through travel and observation by one or more educational advocates or by seeing displays at a world’s fair, most nations found a champion for drawing in schools, one person, often an artist or elite amateur, or a small group of influential business or political leaders. In Ontario, Canada, Egerton Ryerson was a prominent advocate for art education, while Samuel Passmore May supplied the organizational genius necessary for developing and implementing systematic industrial drawing (Chalmers, 1993). In the United States, a group of Boston manufacturers and merchants petitioned the state legislature for a law requiring drawing in state schools (Stankiewicz et al., 2004). Walter Smith was brought from England to implement his adaptation of the South Kensington system, also adopted in many parts of Canada (Chalmers, 1992b, 1993; Stirling, 1997). As each nation created its system of art education, these champions had to answer two big questions: what should be taught and who would teach. In Japan, the art curriculum was almost identical with government-authorized and issued textbooks (Masuda, 1992, 2003; Okazaki, 1991; Yamada, 1992). Smith entered a partnership with the American publisher Louis Prang to provide textbooks used across North America (Chalmers, 2000; Korzenik, 1985; Stankiewicz, 2001; Stirling, 1997), while other art teachers developed their own

Capitalizing Art Education

texts which were sometimes officially adopted (Chalmers, 1985; Rogers, 1992; Soucy & Stankiewicz, 1990). Female teachers typically taught art to younger children; secondary art specialists were expected to have more specialized artistic training. How teachers of art were prepared, whether art specialists or generalists who also taught drawing, depended on goals for art education. In Finland, art education was divided by political factions that emerged during the 1870s, after Finnish timber had become a valuable commodity. Fennomans, members of the nationalistic political movement to make Finnish the official language, with the clergy and peasants valued nationalism and agriculture. They followed German idealism, seeking art for art’s sake within a context of tradition. Liberals included nobility and bourgeoisie who supported stronger international relations, commerce and industry. They asserted the importance of industry to produce refined goods that could compete with those from other countries, citing British models for art education. A craft or Sloyd school was established in 1871 and the Society for Industrial Arts in 1875. The Liberal approach, tied to a desire for social change, dominated into the 1880s; art teacher training was connected to design education in Finland and remains so even today. During the 1890s, however, when the Fennomans led intellectual life and sought a national identity, artists created rural landscapes, waterfalls, and scenes of idyllic nature (Pohjakallio, 1992). Many countries experienced similar dualities (Kraus, 1968; Masuda, 2003; Onuchukwu, 1994; Thistlewood, 1992; Toren, 2004). Spanish guilds retained control of artist education longer than guilds in other nations, thus that nation did not develop as strongly unified an academic tradition as other countries (Boschloo, 1989). The first legal regulation of art teaching, the Royal Decree of 24 September 1844, defined painting, sculpture, and architecture as fine art subjects and described a system of competitions and prizes which rewarded artistic technique (Araño, 1992). Official art education tended to be conservative, serving the needs of church and state for art workers with reproductive skills (Freedman & Hernandez, 1998). On the other hand, a range of reform movements attempted to position expressive approaches to art teaching within visions of new human beings. In England, drawing instruction for secondary students was considered a higher discipline than elementary art education which connoted play and little learning. Men in the National Society of Art Masters (NSAM), founded as the Society of Art Masters in 1888, encouraged high levels of technical accomplishment (Thistlewood, 1988, 1993); the predominantly female Art Teachers’ Guild (ATG), on the other hand, sought to encourage creativity in children who might not pursue careers in visual arts as adults, following the beliefs of Ebenezer Cooke and others that art was an aspect of human development. To NSAM members, who held what Thistlewood refers to as a “classic thesis” of art education (1993, p. 149), the work of the ATG was peripheral and preparatory to the major tasks of teaching drawing and design. Drawing education addressed needs of industry for human capital and served national well-being. The ATG served individual needs with Marion Richardson as the heroine who discovered innate, unstructured creativity in adolescents, linking it to avant-garde art. Thistlewood refers to this as the “romantic antithesis” of twentieth-century art education (1993, p. 150). Although political affiliations might differ from country to country, dual approaches to art teaching emerged in many nations during the last decade of the nineteenth century

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and the early years of the twentieth. Some version of the classical thesis continued as the official form of art education, while seeds were planted for a romantic antithesis. Specialist art teachers identified themselves as artists or artist-teachers, not simply as teachers. Their personal experiences with the contemporary art of the day reflected more extensive studio education as well as opportunities for continuing professional development through artist-led summer school, university, or art school courses (Stankiewicz, 2001). The art specialist encouraged children to draw from memory, imagination, or observation of real objects, not simply to copy from flat examples. Nature study in part reflected nostalgia for a rural past, but also the popularity of impressionist landscapes and scientific study of the natural world. Some drawings from nature could be adapted for ornamental decoration; however, design no longer meant only ornament. The term could refer to theories about elements and principles of pictorial composition. The Prang texts, used in North America and influential as far away as Japan, discussed three functions of visual art: constructive, representational, and decorative work (Foster, 1992; Masuda, 2003; Pearse, 1997; Stankiewicz, 2001). No longer restricted to chalk or pencil, children were encouraged to use more fluid media as well as clay, cut paper, and other materials derived from Froebel’s gifts and Victorian fancywork. Color interested art educators and students from North America to Egypt and Japan (El-Bassiouny, 1964; Masuda, 2003), as more and more art teachers recognized the charm of paintings produced by children outside the rigid bounds of the classical thesis of art education. The classical thesis continued to be strong, particularly in colonial societies (Fennessy, 2005; Seibert, 1996; Stokrocki, 1997; van Rheeden, 1990, 1992). Students in British colonies followed the South Kensington system and into the twentieth century were subjected to drawing exams originally developed for admission to English universities (Calhoun, 1993; Carline, 1968). The classical thesis, the South Kensington system and its descendents, tended to be associated with art education for social control, art instruction that served the economic needs of the dominant culture and treated learners in state schools as future workers, human capital that needed to be civilized through acquiring a patina of cultural capital. Thus, art education contributed to cultural imperialism by teaching young people in colonial societies or indigenous groups that their traditional arts were not as highly ranked in an aesthetic hierarchy as European arts, nor their artistic taste as finely cultivated as that of European experts (Kosasa, 1998; Smith, 2003). Art educators transmitted racist beliefs through their assumptions that true art was solely a product of Greco-Roman traditions and that white males from northern nations possessed the best aesthetic taste and most genuine artistic genius (Chalmers, 1992a), devaluing the art forms and informal art education methods of pre-colonial societies.

Self-expression and Child Art What Thistlewood described as the romantic antithesis of art education spread internationally during the years following the World War I. This romanticism differed from earlier romantic idealist influences on art education in several respects (Efland, 1990; Stankiewicz, 1984). In the context of nineteenth-century romanticism, art was generally

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heteronymous and integrated with morality. In modern romanticisms, artists staked strong claims for the autonomy of art even as art was used to symbolize nationalism and modernity. This tension and paradox would increase during the years between the two world wars. The nineteenth-century romanticism of John Ruskin and his disciples in England, North America, and elsewhere contributed to an anti-modern critique of industrial societies (Lears, 1981). Although Ruskin and William Morris argued for art as a means to social change, their message was dissipated and distorted by the increasing separation of fine art from daily life. Ironically, Arts and Crafts designs were transformed into a preferred middle-class style for mass-marketed consumer goods. Morris’s socialist politics were submerged into workforce education through manual training, which evolved into general enculturation intended to make workers satisfied with their lot in life (Soucy & Stankiewicz, 1990). As Lears explains, anti-modernism “was not simply escapism; it was ambivalent, often coexisting with enthusiasm for material progress” (1981, p. xiii). As a reaction against perceptions that modern life was overcivilized, alienating, and inauthentic, the upper-middle-class men who dominated this intellectual and artistic movement sought intense experiences, embracing premodern symbolism, spiritual and martial ideals, therapeutic self-fulfillment, and sensuous irrationality. The anti-modern symbolic culture they claimed offered a refuge from a complex, threatening world where wars, technocratic rationality, and capitalism threatened individual freedom even as these phenomena offered progress and the expanded opportunities of modernism. Macdonald (2004) has identified three factors that contributed to the construction of child art: psychological studies; interest in art from small-scale societies; and appreciation of modern art. Anti-modernism created an intellectual climate where these elements could flower. The feminization of education and culture through ideals of women as social housekeepers contributed willing workers to nurture the child artist (Dalton, 2001). The rise of psychology led not only to research on child development but also to Freud’s and Jung’s psychoanalytic theories that uncovered the unconscious and revealed apparently universal archetypes. Tensions between unique individualism and universal forces contributed to new views of the child; each child was a unique personality, but also passed through universal stages of development. Children were no longer blank slates where adults could write the lines, angles, and curves of accepted artistic conventions. Like flowering plants, children unfolded with creativity at the heart of every blossom. Child art came from inside the budding infant, not from copying external models (Wilson, 2004). If psychology contributed one-third to the child art equation, the art world contributed the balance. The child was equated with adults in preindustrial cultures, such as those colonized by European and American imperialism.6 Both were regarded as potentially capable of creating expressive art spontaneously without the intellectualization characteristic of trained adult artists. Words such as natural, expressive, fresh, spontaneous, colorful, or organic characterized the discourse surrounding child art, so-called primitive art, and modern art. Spontaneity, natural development, and fluid self-expression were privileged over the slow mastery of conventions found in the classical thesis of art education. A number of modern artists collected examples of child art (Fineberg, 1997). Laslo Nagy organized the first exhibition of child art in Hungary in 1907 (Karpati &

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Gaul, 1997). Ten years later in England, Marion Richardson met Roger Fry who included works by her students from Dudley Girls’ High School in an exhibition at the Omega Workshops (Holdsworth, 1988). Fry was a leader among sophisticated critics, like Alfred Stieglitz in the United States, who displayed child art in galleries that also pioneered exhibitions of avant-garde painting and African sculpture. Nagy, Richardson, Artus Perrelet in Brazil (Barbosa, 1992), and Kanae Yamamoto, who introduced the Free Drawing Movement in Japan (Okazaki, 1991), were among the professional heroes and heroines who emerged in the early twentieth century. Arthur Lismer, who immigrated to Canada in 1910, learned to teach on the job, forming the goal of teaching appreciation to everyone (Grigor, 2002; Pearse, 1992). Lismer believed that an artist is “a child who has never lost the gift of looking at life with curiosity and wonder” (Pearse, 1992, p. 88). Perhaps the most important professional hero of the early twentieth century was Franz Cizek of Austria, internationally recognized as “the father of child art” (Wilson, 2004, p. 308). A product of the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna, Cizek reportedly observed that images created by children drawing on a fence near his lodgings followed what his disciple Viola termed “eternal laws of form” (Sutton, 1967, p. 263). In 1897 Cizek began offering private art classes for children with the goal of allowing them simply to grow, develop, and mature. Observers visiting these classes recorded his conversations with the children, marveling at how freely he encouraged children to draw what they felt. More critical interpretations, however, argue that what appeared to free the child was really adult intervention that mediated the child’s experience, in effect colonizing the child’s imagination to suit adult goals and aesthetic preferences. By limiting the materials available and using language to shape the child’s mental images, Cizek generated what he saw as “pure style” that reflected the child’s personality (Sutton, 1967). The child art style, symbolic capital for charismatic artist-teachers with idiosyncratic methods, became institutionalized as a “school art style” that humanized factory-like schoolrooms and hallways (Efland, 1976). Child art made school more enjoyable by offering art-like activities that could be completed in brief moments sandwiched between the real work of schools; required minimal effort but gave rapid, colorful results; and was imaginative rather than intellectual. Both the child and the indigenous artist, like nineteenthcentury amateur women artists, were dominated by adult experts who directed them to make art that fit a desired look (Stokrocki, 1997). Art educators around the globe embraced child art as a positive way to heal a world racked by war and economic depression (White, 2004). Child art celebrated individuality as well as universally shared human qualities. Child art was symbolic capital representing peace, access to education, freedom, and democracy. During the years preceding World War II, however, German and Japanese educators used art in schools to cultivate nationalism, ideals of patriotism and martial character (Petrovich-Mwaniki, 1987, 1992; Tatsutomi, 1997; Yamada, 1992). In the United States, art education helped create the image of a modern homeland, teaching good taste in selection of home décor and furnishings, instilling ideals of civic beauty, while also selling art materials and professional services (White, 2004). Following World War II, the Austrian immigrant, Viktor Lowenfeld, found a receptive audience for his particular approach to child art as indicator of creative and mental growth. During the Cold War of the 1950s, allied occupation

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of Japan, and to a lesser extent Germany, brought American perspectives on art education to other nations, consolidating trends toward a global ideology of child art in art education. Art education in countries under Soviet control, such as Hungary from 1950 to 1961, was mostly practical, geared to the success of communism, with realistic representation as the accepted style. The approved canon was disseminated from Moscow and Leningrad throughout Eastern and Central Europe. Future workers were taught to read plans, make signs and posters. Displaced as a form of cultural capital, art “lost its traditional popularity as transmitter of high culture that middle class families considered traditionally as an important quality of the erudite person” (Karpati & Gaul, 1997, p. 298, italics in original). During the 1960s, when communist dictatorship relaxed in Hungary, modern art experienced a rebirth with exhibitions by previously censored artists and publication of critical writings on the visual arts. Although the USSR looked to the west for approaches to art teaching, Soviet art educators criticized western permissiveness, emphasis on art as psychological therapy, and casual attitude toward teaching techniques and skills. In the Soviet Union, diverse institutions provided opportunities for art education, including special art schools for the gifted (Beelke, 1961a, 1961b; Morton, 1972; Pirogov, 1960a, 1960b).

Turn toward Intellectual Rigor During the later part of the twentieth century, many nations enlarged school systems to provide greater access to education. Art education was once again advocated as a way to develop human capital. Art educators gained status when more extensive educational credentials were required for teaching. Tricontinental nations, such as Morocco, Nigeria, and Pakistan, saw art education as a means toward economic development, but also a way to reclaim pre-colonial cultural identities (Davis, 1969; Freedman & Hernandez, 1998; Kauppinen & Diket, 1995; Peshkin, 1964, Prospects of art education, 1999). National educational goals led to emphasis on art for career education in Germany, where preparation for industrial work was a strong focus (Kraus, 1968), and in the United Kingdom which balanced expressive art with design. England instituted educational reforms intended to improve the status of art education, quality of instruction and accountability. Upgrading what had been diplomas to the status of degrees was one of several results of the 1960 Coldstream report (Ashwin, 1992; Thistlewood, 1992). Both England and Spain connected what had been independent schools of fine art to universities (Araño, 1992, 1997; Freedman & Hernandez, 1998), increasing the professional educational capital of art educators. Curriculum content and art media expanded to include film, video, and, by the end of the century, digital arts. Finland was a leader in environmental art education (Laukka et al., 1992). In England Postmodern art emerged from the work of Richard Hamilton (Yeomans, 1988, 1992) and other artists who critiqued Abstract Expressionism and consumer society. When conceptual and performance art entered the art world during the 1960s, art became dematerialized, often resisting definition by necessary and sufficient conditions. Conceptual art engaged makers and viewers with intellectual speculation

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about relationships between art and life. Even though some artists and critics expected performance and idea art to escape the commercialized world of galleries, documentations of such art quickly became commodified. On the other hand, romantic notions of innate creativity persisted among art educators.

Australia in the 1960s Australian art educators continued to follow the South Kensington classical thesis longer than their colleagues in most other nations (Boughton, 1989). Separate state educational authorities, a vast geographic area with widely dispersed population, dual school systems (denominational schools plus state-controlled and financed schools), and lack of contact among art educators across state boundaries contributed to disparities in art curricula (Dimmack, 1955). International influences and cross-fertilization among Australian art educators were encouraged by two UNESCO seminars, the first in Melbourne in June 1954 and the second in Canberra in May 1963 (Burke, 1964). At the Canberra seminar, a film portraying how art was taught in rural and urban schools in New South Wales generated controversy, revealing that apparent overlap between the classical and the romantic theses of art education masked a deep ideological division. Planned to address the purpose of art teaching – how to preserve and train the child’s creativity in an age when technology promoted passive reception of visual culture – the film included a segment where the narrator’s method of teaching memory drawing was intended to guide students’ aesthetic compositions while giving them freedom to express their own ideas (Peers, 2002). “Anti-methodists” saw even the slightest teacher intervention as cramping innate creativity, arguing that a good art educator refrained from any interference with natural self-expression (Peers, 2001). They asserted that the filmed teacher was likely to foster “parrot-like imitation” (Burke, 1964, p. 6), confounding modernist guidance with the restricted sequence of instruction derived from South Kensington and still used in many Australian art classes. “Methodists” pointed out that notions of free expression could be as dogmatic and stereotyped as teaching methods focused on accuracy and correctness. From the perspective of leading art educators, such as John Dabron, creative freedom for students, art education that taught tolerance for diversity, and art teachers who held definite goals for their students were not incompatible (Peers, 2002). This controversy highlights the dualism between laissez-faire art education and emerging use of more didactic methods, while revealing how much the romantic ideology had obscured dynamics of art education as acquisition of cultural capital.

Quebec in the 1960s In North America, reforms generated by Quebec’s Quiet Revolution of the 1960s modernized and secularized art education, giving greater professional autonomy to art educators, within a social context of political liberation, secularization, urban industrial and economic growth, educational reform, development of a counter-culture, and art world expansion (Lemerise, 1992; Lemerise & Couture, 1990). Conservative ideologies were

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defeated in favor of ideas advocated by artistic and intellectual groups; political power was claimed by liberal bourgeoisie, and the state intervened in areas of culture, social affairs, and education previously controlled by the Catholic Church. Early in the decade the provincial government created a contemporary art museum and ministry of cultural affairs, institutionalizing cultural capital. New galleries exhibited contemporary art; artists formed professional associations, asking the state to support creativity and a democratic culture. Between 1963 and 1966, the five-volume Parent Commission report recommended educational reforms for democratization, cultural sensitivity and active pedagogy in preparing flexible future-oriented Québécois. A technocratic ideology, based on the needs of a market economy, contributed a capitalist subtext to these reforms. The commissioners declared that the arts were often neglected in the context of modern knowledge, endorsing the point of view of artist-teachers who, since 1940, had been trying to redefine art teaching based on child-development and modernism. The commissioners rejected instruction in technical skills that might impede development of creativity, advocating film as expressive language and a synthesis of the arts. In 1965, Quebec established a ministry of education; Sir George Williams University (now Concordia) established a fine arts faculty, offering a master’s degree in art education which attracted some Francophone teachers thereby spanning the two cultures. Following 1966 strikes by art students, the Rioux Commission was formed. The commission’s 1969 report proposed “a unified vision of society in which art and art education are active participants” (Lemerise, 1992, p. 80), but was better received in the art world than by government authorities or school people. Although debate stimulated by this report supported efforts of art educators and avant-garde artists to bring arts and culture to a wider public, thereby increasing heteronomy, many art teachers developed autonomous school programs geared toward school culture with its focus on disciplinary knowledge and “objective evaluation of learning” (Lemerise & Couture, 1990, p. 233). This period of restructuring corresponded with growing professional autonomy for art educators, including a specialized diploma for public school artist-teachers, a new credential recognizing their hybrid status and amplifying their educational capital. By the end of the decade, elementary art education in Quebec centered on expressive and creative capacities of children. Secondary programs offered two options, visual arts or visual arts and mass communication, each of which encompassed two- or three-dimensional ideas and techniques as well as themes or periods from art history. The goal of the visual-arts-only track was overall personal development; the second track sought to insert art and artists into mainstream society by defining mass media as arts. Although some artists “attacked the concept of autonomous art” and “criticized the marginalization of art, the myth of the solitary artist, and the artist’s separation from industrial or technological culture” (Lemerise & Couture, 1990, p. 230), few art teachers brought contemporary art practices into their curricula or connected art with social reforms. Most viewed art education as compensation for excessive rationality in school learning. Some exhibited their own art, entered art-world dialogues of the period, and perceived a golden age where art educators were innovators in a context of modernist aesthetics focusing on abstraction. Their goal was to involve students “in an artistic experience and not in a knowledge of art” (Lemrise & Couture, 1990, p. 230,

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italics in original). The notion of a work of art was replaced by emphasis on experiencing art; viewers became participants at happenings and multimedia environments directed to a broad audience. Critics were divided between those who saw avant-garde boundary-blurring as a threat to art, and those who perceived renewal for art through games, imagination, and creativity, concepts borrowed from Progressive Education. As Lemerise and Couture conclude: The depth of the relation between society, the schools, and art in Quebec society of the 1960s puts it [art education] at the heart of debates and problems that are emblematic of Western culture, whether it be an industrial society hesitating between participatory democracy and liberalism, an artistic tradition oscillating between consolidation of modernism and its destabilization by the avant-garde, or a school system that is ideologically humanistic and democratic, but technocentric and selective in its functioning. (1990, p. 233)

Authority and Creativity Trends toward systematic, sequential national curricula and more attention to assessments for accountability have been interpreted as reversions to the nineteenth century, classical thesis for art education (Boughton, 1995; Steers, 1995; Swift, 1995). The movement to encompass not only newer media and contemporary art, but also criticism, history and questions of aesthetic values, was termed Critical Studies in the United Kingdom and Discipline-based Art Education (DBAE) in the United States, where the J. Paul Getty Trust contributed to its dissemination. DBAE’s greater breadth of art content (drawn from four art disciplines), desires for more academic rigor and higher status for art education, and focus on art as component of general education resonated with other nations, so that DBAE was adapted for use in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and elsewhere. This continuation of the classical thesis of art education as cultural capital crossed with streams of romantic antithesis that emphasized art education as critical pedagogy (Efland, 1990). Subject-centered approaches to art education were criticized by child-centered art educators and by those who argued that art education should function as a means to social reconstruction through greater attention to diversity and pluralism. Although art education became more intellectual in western nations, development of technical skill through careful teacher guidance dominated art curricula in many Asian countries, for example, in China where adult control and learned self-discipline were stressed in child-rearing (Pan, 2002; Tatsutomi, 1997; Winner, 1989). The many reforms experienced by Korean art educators, on the other hand, illustrate effects of political instability on art education as well as on education in general (Kim, 1997). Toren has described how this duality plays out in early childhood art education in Israel: The authoritative approach includes characteristics that are suited to working class laborers of the middle to lower classes. The creative approach befits the

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future researcher, manager and designer of the middle to higher classes. In this manner, kindergarten may prepare the children under its care towards their future anticipated lifelong profession, relying on the social class to which they belong. (2004, p. 214) Referring to Bourdieu’s argument that “schools valorize upper class cultural capital and actively depreciate that of the lower classes” (p. 215), Toren explains that European artists and artworks are the focus of instruction in Ministry of Education and Culture materials; no Arab or Sephardic-style art is shown. Recognized Israeli artists are of European ancestry. The cultural capital of the middle and upper classes is reinforced, while school omission of cultural capital from lower classes teaches lower class and ethnically diverse young people that they have no worthwhile culture. When art education is pursued without critical analysis and reflection, it may contribute to continuing inequalities.

Conclusion Although histories of art education can be framed in various ways, this essay has mapped coordinates of the professional field in relation to national development and the desires of both nations and individuals to build human and cultural capital. As a mapmaker, I have selected and abstracted features that another writer might have depicted in landscape view. The motivating force for development of art education has often been the need of a dominant culture to retain or expand symbolic capital, sometimes subordinating the agency of the learner. British, European, and North American modes of art education developed with the rise of capitalism and emergence of a middle class; they have been disseminated through cultural imperialism and economic globalization. My interpretation asserts that Bourdieu’s theories of cultural capital resonate with the existing discourse of art education’s histories. Writing in the early 1960s, the Curator of the Museum of the History of Education in Paris explained how clear, logical displays of artworks gave “the child the opportunity of reaping maximum profit from his visit to a museum” (Rabec-Mailiard, 1964, p. 63). Learning to respond to works of art and images from visual culture, both forms of symbolic capital, transmits cultural capital valued by individuals and nation-states. Learning socially valued aesthetic attitudes and art-making techniques develops human capital necessary to global economies and national identities. Art educators may possess more cultural capital than economic or political capital, but gain social capital when they work together in national or international professional associations (MacGregor, 1979; Michael, 1997; Steers, 2001). Across national boundaries, art education has developed in tension between a classical thesis found in England’s South Kensington system and a romantic antithesis celebrating individual expression and creativity (Thistlewood, 1993). Although peoples around the globe have had indigenous artistic traditions, developments in capitalist nations have influenced art education elsewhere. Theories or practices that have worked for the West should be fully examined in the context of other nations before being implemented (Hyeri Ahn, personal communication, 19 June 2005).

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Notes 1. Young (2001, 2003) uses “tricontinental” to refer to the postcolonial world, that is, what was left over after the division of the first and second worlds of capitalism and socialism. 2. My use of the geographical metaphor of mapping is intended to work on two levels; first, as a projective mapping of geography on international history of art education, and second, as a cognitive tool for constructing a meaningful account of a complex topic (Fauconnier, 1997). As a map, my account combines representation and abstraction (Storr, 1994, p. 13). Bourdieu’s theory of cultural capital serves as the projection for this map, privileging certain features or continents in the way a Mercator projection distorts the northern hemisphere at the expense of the southern. This projection has been used to organize the mainly secondary sources used in this account. 3. Storr (1994, p. 9) explains the coordinates of a map as reference points defining earth’s position in space. These four concepts define a field’s relationship to the larger universe of social forces over time. 4. This information on Chinese art education and the literati tradition was provided by Yujie Li, whom I thank for assistance with this research and for translating Pan (2002) for my use. 5. Much of this section is based on Chapter 4 in Ann Bermingham’s (2000) analysis of drawing in England, a study informed by theories from Bourdieu and critical social theory. 6. The word primitive, which was used by MacDonald (1970), tends to rub postmodern readers the wrong way, but indicates the cultural hierarchies of the era and the ties between colonialism and cultural imperialism. Note that equating children with indigenous adults was less a means to frame the child’s work as sophisticated and more a reflection of racist constructions of exotic infantilized others.

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INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 2.1 France

Bernard Darras University of Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne, France

By choosing a theoretical framework influenced by the thoughts of Pierre Bourdieu on one hand and Cultural Studies, on the other, Mary Ann Stankiewicz manages to establish a rich and audacious version of the social history of an educative field in the process of being structured. This contribution attempts to augment this history in adopting a cultural perspective (Ory, 2004).

Division, Specialization, Autonomy and Elitisms in Europe The European situation is interesting to study because of the conflicts that take place here and because of its international influence. The Latin world divided human activities (and humans) into two categories which have durably structured Western society, on one hand the category of artes liberales, dedicated to the culture of the spirit of free men, and on the other hand, the artes illiberales, sordidae, or mechanichae which concerned manual activities reserved for slaves and employees. Music, associated with mathematics was a liberal art while painting and sculpture were mechanical arts. The values of Christian education were based on the liberal arts. This distinction between liberal and mechanical arts was cultivated throughout the Middle Ages. It is in this context that were created the corporations and guilds, notably that of “imagers, painters and three-dimensional image makers” which gathered together a number of professions more or less related to image (the one in Paris was created in 1121). These image artisans were in charge of selling their products and had the right to have servants and apprentices who learned skills by copying their master and then making a Masterpiece to become an artisan too (Heinich, 1993). The prestige that surrounded image was also progressively attributed to its producers. The elite members of corporations aspired to climbing the social scale and rejecting the corporate constraints. The practices and production became consequently 31 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 31–34. © 2007 Springer.

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hierarchized and some painters wished to leave the depreciated world of the mechanical arts to access the status granted by the liberal arts and the freedom they authorized. Their practice changed and became intellectualized accordingly. This is how, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, academies of painting and sculpture appeared in Italy, then in France. The activity of the Academy members did not consist only in the production of works of art, they also had to teach, organize and direct festivities, processions and triumphal marches. The focus on the elite and on the first steps of the triumphal march of art and artists (these terms did not exist then in their current meaning), must not make one forget that the majority of imagers (92%) were organized in corporations of artisans who continued to produce, ply their trade and train apprentices. (In France, the corporations were dissolved in 1791). The arrival of painters and sculptors in the liberal arts was therefore the result of a long disputed power struggle, but that managed to impose itself only because of a change of practice and the weakening of the distinction between mechanical and liberal arts. (Heinich, 1996). To deserve their new “intellectual” position, the academies promoted a teaching method divided into two parts “one regarding reason or theory, the other regarding the hand and practice” (Batteux 1747, in Heinich, 1993, p.93). The echoes of these divisions still resonate in the twenty first century in European education systems where the legitimacy of a manual, technical and practical education is still contested by the “legitimate” inheritors of the liberal arts. To make themselves accepted, the influential players in this domain did not cease to work at raising theoretical approaches (historical, aesthetic, critical, etc.) and valorizing the activities of the spirit (imagination, expression, creation), to the detriment of technical education. As for so-called applied arts, they have been devalued because of their manual activity, their technicality and their usefulness, and have even been confined to technical education with low cultural value. The nineteenth century invented a new social type which emphasized the values of the liberal arts: the artist by vocation, a genius, singular, exceptional and innovative who despises commissions, honors and the market, and who opposes everything that represents the industrious bourgeois and the alienated worker. For these artists, the concepts of emancipation, independence and freedom developed with a backdrop of political deception and aristocratic nostalgia (in France). In reaction to the economic, political and social order that was then being established, they were going to build a new relationship with success as well as an economy shifting the material values towards spiritual values (Bourdieu, 1992). The absence of success in the present becomes a pledge of success for posterity and economic misery a sign of symbolic wealth. This invention of a new social type, precursor to many attitudes of the twentieth century, finds its roots in the liberal breeding ground of individualization and innovation, but also in an ideological context of disinterest, self-sacrifice and of art for art’s sake. For the radical autonomists, all the forms and marks of interdependence (heteronomy) are assimilated to dependence (allonomy) which leads them to develop sectarian strategies and hermetic productions confined to the small world they fabricate for themselves. The autonomy of the art of this time and that which followed is therefore relative. But the impact of these ideas on certain educators has been considerable. A gap then

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appears between the defenders of an education oriented by the values of art and the advocates of a more utilitarian, scientific, technical and aesthetic education.

From Opposition to Hegemony For two centuries, four large educational projects have opposed each other and attempted to impose their contents and their vision of education. ●

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The functionalists extolled a teaching of scientific and communication drawing as a language for industry and contemporary life. The patrimonials defended the great artistic tradition. The pedagogues, supported by the psychologists, pleaded for drawing as a tool for individual and social development. The avant-garde modernists wanted to promote the works and the values of modern art … then postmodern. They were supported by the promoters of the democratization of art and of the democratization by artists who practice the paradox of the democratization of elite culture.

In France, the functionalists and patrimonials opposed each other for more than 50 years until the 1920s. The contents of the official educational curricula for teachers reflected the progression and regression of one and the other. The patrimonials finally won. They obtained the support of the pedagogues and the psychologists rather than from the modernists whose ideas were established from 1969 through the creation of a visual art1 training in the universities, then in 1977 with the publication of new school curricula. In France, education in “The Arts” progressively imposed itself and became a monopoly. Today, art is hardly taught in primary school, it is mandatory for all levels in junior high school and optional at high school level where, in total, artistic disciplines are practiced by 7.5% of students. However, the success of this method of artistic education is mixed, the changes of orientation and the paradoxical injunctions have fazed a number of teachers and students. The gap is increasing between the values of the art world and the values of a socially and ethnically diversified education system that has a responsibility to teach all children, not only the elite. The curricula published in France in 2005 (Ministry of National Education, 2005) put an end to artistic hegemony and proposed an important rebalancing between culture and art. Drawing which had been banished from education under the pressure of modernists makes a strong return as a tool of thought and means of communication. Previously it had been replaced by painting whose relationship with art is less ambiguous (Darras, 1996, 1998). The knowledge and the practice of image and media are placed in a central position in the primary school curriculum and are distributed across various disciplines. The hegemony of art is relativized by the cultural approaches. “The access for all to culture seems to win over artistic education for all” (Panier, 2001). It is in a way the return of imagers, of drawing and of a visual culture open to all these facets and everyone’s world. This new discipline is called “Artistic and cultural education”.

Darras

Rule and Practice One must not forget that a teacher’s career lasts about forty years and that they are not all pioneers or volunteers or resistant to change. Between the history of ambitious curricula and that of players in the field, there are large gaps that history does not record, but they nevertheless constitute the daily history of teachers, pedagogic teams, students and their families. With the advent of modernism in art, the distance between the art of the present and the public has become wider. But in primary and high schools, the very academic, patrimonial and technical education has not perpetuated this break. On the other hand, as soon as the influence of the modernist pedagogues favored the introduction of issues related to modern art (then contemporary), this readjustment provoked considerable shocks. The majority of the teachers trained in academic methods were not ready to integrate the new content and the new teaching methods into their pedagogic practice. In the same way, the majority of students and families were not willing to accept the attitudes and artistic values developed in artistic microcosms, often elitist and hermetic. As for new teachers, trained in the practice of modern and postmodern art, they were not prepared to face an education system ignorant or hostile to issues and objects fashionable in artistic circles. The history of this resistance, these gaps, these daily inventions and “quick-fixes” remains to be written.

Note 1. Arts plastiques: In Latin Europe and in France, the notion of “plastic arts” has been preferred to the terms of “Fine Arts” and “Visual Arts”. “Fine Arts” was too influenced by its pre modernist origin, and “Visual Arts” also covered the areas of design and applied arts. In a period influenced by abstraction, it was also a way of highlighting what refers to artwork and its forms to the detriment of what refers to the perceptive and iconic experience.

References Bourdieu, P. (1992). Les règles de l’art. Paris, Seuil. Darras, B. (1996). Policy and practice in French Art education: An analysis of change. Art Education Policy Review, 97(4), 12–17. Darras, B. (1998). Pensée figurative, pensée visuelle et éducation artistique. Bilan de la modernité. In M. Richard et S. Lemerise (Dirs.), Les arts plastiques à l’école (pp. 53–81). Montréal: Editions logiques. Heinich, N. (1993). Du peintre à l’artiste. Artisans et académiciens à l’âge classique. Paris: Les Editions de minuit. p. 244. Heinich, N. (1996). Etre Artiste. Paris: Kincksieck. Ministère de l’Education Nationale (2005). Qu’apprend-on à l’école, élémentaire. 2005–2006 les programmes. CNDP/XO éditions. Ory, P. (2004). L’histoire culturelle. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Panier, E. (2001). Art et enseignement, histoires particulières. In L’art à l’école. Paris, Beaux Arts magazine. p. 8.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 2.2 Africa

Winston Jumba Akala Catholic University of Eastern Africa, Kenya

One of the areas given marginal analysis in Stankiewicz’s analysis of art from a capitalized perspective are the early forms of art that preceded the Western art culture she clarifies. For instance, the hand axes found at the Olorgesaillie and Kariandusi historic sites in Kenya, the cave drawings and paintings in Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania, the great Pyramids of Egypt, and great Zimbabwe ruins represent Africa’s oldest and most famous art traditions. Currently, these sites experience a high profile for educational and tourist purposes and turn in immense profits for the various countries. The educational pursuit to understand the antiquities and their purpose is ever current, and the curiosity to encounter these great pieces of art burns within individuals who visit these sites. This underscores the emphasis on the beauty of art as explicated by Abiodun (2001/2). Art in Africa has thus metamorphosed greatly from a leisure and utilitarian activity to an educational, historic, and political treasure – thereby taking on a highly capitalized function. Today, artists from the African continent produce more sophisticated art, which also bears a multicultural representation in order to appeal to a wide market. Thus the skill level has advanced while the cultural value has multiplied, albeit diluting the ethnic orientation assumed in precolonial times. Presently, reasonable success has been achieved – at every level of education in many African countries – in incorporating sculpture, woodwork, stone carving, ceramics (including pottery), moulding, fine art, dance, music and theater, and embroidery, among others in the curriculum as a strategy to develop the requisite human resources. More specifically, the promotion of technical drawing in schools and the provision of government scholarships for innovative ideas, waiver of duty on electronic appliances such as computers and their accessories, are among the strategies the government of Kenya has employed in promoting industrial drawing and other forms of art. In Kenya, a special institution – the Kenya Technical Teachers College – in Nairobi is another

Akala

initiative to ensure a continuous supply of qualified art teachers who can enhance culture-sensitive but internationally captivating art. As indicated by Flolu (2000) similar effort has been made in Ghana to revamp interest in art education.

References Abiodun, R. (2001/2). African aesthetics, Journal of Aesthetic Education, 35(40), 15–24. Flolu, E. J. (2000). Rethinking arts education in Ghana, Arts Education Policy Review, 101(5), 25–25.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 2.3 Sweden

Gunnar Åsén Stockholm Institute of Education, Sweden

In the first Swedish Public School Act of 1842 Geometry and line drawing was referred to as one of the subjects which the school should provide “some instruction in.” At the end of the 1870s drawing became a separate subject in elementary school in Sweden and for the sake of continuity it was advised that the same teaching method should be used in all schools. The method recommended was devised by Adolf Stuhlmann and was in wide use in Germany at the same time. It was an elaboration of the methodological tradition established by Pestalozzi and his followers in which drawing instruction was based on geometric forms. The teaching methods were designed for mass instruction – that is, all the pupils were to carry out the same tasks at the same time and at a pace set by the teacher (Pettersson & Åsén, 1989; Åsén, 1997) Toward the end of the nineteenth century, in Sweden and many other European countries, there was a notable increase in the publication of books on teaching methods. One factor in this upswing was the low salaries paid to art teachers. To publish and perhaps receive widespread acceptance of a textbook was one way teachers hoped to augment their income. Thus drawing became the first school subject to generate a textbook industry of its own (Åsén, 1999; cf. Ashwin, 1981). The 1950s saw the breakthrough of creative self-expression in Swedish art education. In this connection modern art became an important model for art instruction. Reference was often made to Herbert Read who had written that “just as modernism freed the artist, it should also be able to free the schoolchild.” It is paradoxical that when children’s pictures and the importance of pictorial self-expression were mentioned in school texts it was with reference first and foremost to art. Earlier children’s art had served as a model for artists – now almost 50 years later, it can be said, if with some exaggeration, that children are required to imitate artists, who earlier had imitated children (Åsén, 1997). Political changes in the 1960s transformed Swedish art education. Cultural experimentation, popular culture and environmental concerns were first included in the national art curriculum in 1969 after art education scholars voiced opposition to the old traditions in art education. The field of art education was expanded to contain pictorial 37 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 37–38. © 2007 Springer.

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analysis and criticism as well as visual communication. For the past thirty years, Swedish art education has continued to embrace social and environmental concerns. Today, one major theme in Swedish art education curricula is the study of semiotics and visual culture (Karlsson, 1998, Lövgren & Karlsson, 1998).

References Åsén, G. (1997). From lines to images. In K. Hasselberg, U. Lind, & B.-M., Kühlhorn (Eds.), Shifting images. 150 years of teaching art in school. Stockholm: School of Art Education, University College of Arts, Crafts and Design. Ashwin, C. (1981). Drawing and education in German-Speaking Europe 1800–1900. Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press. Karlsson, K. (1998). The pictorial language program: A critical review. In I. L. Lindström (Ed.), Nordic visual arts research. The Stockholm Library of Curriculum Studies, vol 2, 1998. Stockholm: HLS Förlag. Lövgren, S., & Karlsson, S. (1998). From art making to visual communication: Swedish art education in the 20th century. In K. Freedman & F. Hernandez (Eds.), Curriculum, culture and art education: Comparative practices. New York: State University of New York. Pettersson, S., & Åsén, G. (1989). Bildundervisningen och det pedagogiska rummet. Traditioner, föreställningar och undervisningsprocess inom skolämnet teckning/bild i grundskolan. (Art Education and the pedagogical room. On the traditions, suppositions and processes of teaching drawing/art in the compulsory school.) Stockholm: HLS Förlag.

INTERLUDE 3 ARTS EDUCATION, THE AESTHETIC AND CULTURAL STUDIES Arthur D. Efland Ohio State University, U.S.A.

In an essay called “Reclaiming the Aesthetic” George Levine described a radical transformation that had taken place in the field of literary study in colleges and universities in the 1970s and 1980s. These changes registered as a shift from questions about what texts mean to questions about the social systems that contain them. A second was a resistance to the idea of literary value, particularly to the idea of literary greatness. A third was an increasing emphasis on the necessity for interdisciplinary study where, in effect, literary study was an adjunct to anthropology and other social sciences. A fourth was contempt for formalism or the use of formal analysis to study the structure of art works, while yet another was the determination that all works of art are political. Collectively, these changes were characterized as a “reductive assimilation of literature to ideology” (1994, pp. 1–2). With some slight adjustment in terminology, Levine’s depiction of the changes within literary study could easily fit the present trend in teaching the visual arts and music as well. In the visual arts the shift became known as the study of visual culture. At the present moment the idea of a category of objects, having a special or unique character identified by such terms as “fine art” or classical music is all too often demeaned as a mode of upper class domination or eliteness, while aesthetic experience is equated with mystified ideology. Levine’s project was to rescue literary study from its potential disappearance into culture and politics, and the question I raise is whether this objective should cover all the arts?

The Problem with the Arts Shall we defend the fine arts and serious music as significant cultural achievements worthy of study in their own right? Obviously yes, but how does one do this? Is the present shift toward cultural studies in the arts a difficulty brought on by a nasty bunch of Marxists who would have us shift instructional emphasis from the fine arts in all their 39 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 39–44. © 2007 Springer.

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pristine purity to studies of culture and politics? I think not. Rather, I see the problem with the arts as originating within the arts themselves. In Beyond the Brillo Box, the philosopher and critic, Arthur Danto, (1992) described the cultural landscape as a map bounded by various zones. His map lays out zones like the art world, the mass media and the popular culture. But the boundaries that once kept these zones apart have either disappeared or are in the process of erasure. For example, the lines that separated the fine arts from popular culture either have become imperceptible or are marked as disputed territories. Danto described the situation in the visual arts as getting its start in the 1960s. Pop art eliminated the boundary between high art and low art; minimalism erased the distinction between fine art and industrial process. The border separating mass-produced things from the images of fine art housed in museums has disappeared from the landscape. Another is the distinction between objects appreciated as exemplars of cultivated taste and the objects of the ordinary person’s life-world including comic strips, soup cans, and cheeseburgers. No longer does art have to be beautiful or to resemble nature; indeed there is no longer any difference between works of art and what Danto calls “mere real things.” (pp. 4–5) Danto also notes that, “you cannot tell when something is a work of art just by looking at it, for there is no particular way that art has to look. The upshot was that you could not teach the meaning of art by examples.” (p. 5) If so, what does one teach? Once our purpose was defined by a dedication to particular objects having a special or unique character identified by such terms as “fine art” or “classical music,” objects created by the conscious use of the imagination to produce aesthetic objects, objects housed in museums or performed in concert halls – objects set apart from the concerns of daily living, but now, the differences that once isolated these from other things has dropped from view. Without a discernible difference between ordinary things and works of art, there is no rational basis for deciding what to teach.

Visual and Cultural Studies The waning of modernism. Throughout the modernist era which began roughly at the end of the nineteenth century, the modernist avant-garde established a hierarchy of values which placed the fine arts above such forms of popular culture as the folk traditions of art making, industrial, interior, package and graphic design, photography, commercial illustration, and the like. In championing a striving for purity in art, critics such as Clement Greenberg advocated the view that modern artists and critics should be disdainful of the imagery of popular culture and commerce. Indeed, Laura Kipnis once defined modernism “as the ideological necessity of erecting and maintaining exclusive standards of the literary and artistic against the constant threat of incursion and contamination” (1986, p. 21). Referring to popular visual culture as “kitsch,” Greenberg dismissed it as an unfit subject for serious study in favor of the high art of the avant-garde. When artists such as Warhol and Lichtenstein began to appropriate imagery from popular culture and commerce, Greenberg and many others within the art world had difficulty accepting this as art (see Wallis, 1984, p. 2).

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Greenberg’s modernism was invested in maintaining the separation between the fine arts and the entertainment media including cinema, television, and their electronic extensions. The presence of these potent sources of visual imagery has changed the American landscape and culture affecting the lives of children growing up in the midst of these influences. As long as we defined instructional practice in terms of the fine arts, we may have known what we were supposed to teach but increasingly it became clear that the impact of imagery from the popular culture should receive educational attention. If the fine arts and serious music comprise a small fraction of the totality covered by cultural studies, should they continue to remain the central focus of instruction as in the modernist past? Do the fine arts continue to have a role in education and what might that be? The proponents of visual culture don’t say no to the fine arts though they advocate that more time and resources should be expended to study the arts of everyday life (Duncum, 2002). Freedman and Stuhr, though recognizing the importance of fine art as a carrier of historical and contemporary culture, nevertheless conclude, “fine art objects and ‘good taste’ can no longer be seen as the only visual cultural capital to serve elementary, secondary, or college level students” (2004, p. 817). Though acknowledging the existence of fine art as a practice, they also describe it as a product from a bygone era (modernism) and are generally unconcerned with the task of teaching it as fine art in all its separateness and remoteness. Rather, the task they pursue is to help students become critically attentive to the cultural meanings that images convey for the purpose of understanding society and culture, including how these images help create the shared meanings we call culture. Critical citizenship rather than the appreciation of the finer things of life has become the aim (Tavin, 2001, p. 133). If fine art as a cultural practice is acknowledged at all, it is grudgingly. It is often misequated with upper-class domination. Social critics like Pierre Bourdieu regard the high arts as no more than sign systems designating social status (in Johnson 2003, p. 5). Likewise, Tony Bennett, a British Marxist describes fine art as “sheltering the world of privilege … from unwelcome political distractions” (see Harpham, 1994, p. 128). Thus numerous academic types, who once might have been counted on to champion fine art, literature, and classical music, stand less ready to support such offerings. Since the study of works of art has as its purpose the critical understanding of the cultures or societies wherein such works originated, it is quite possible that students could be led to interpret their culture through a critical reading of images from the mass media, without ever considering works from the genre of the fine arts of the sort traditionally encountered in museums. This is an unfortunate possibility but life is serious and critical citizenship is an important goal to pursue.

Fine Arts and Everyday Visual Culture There is a more compelling reason why the fine arts and serious music have educational value and it is based on the contrast between the experiences we have with objects in the everyday world and objects traditionally categorized as fine art. I found

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Paul Duncum’s (2002) essay to be especially helpful in sorting out this problem. He draws a sharp distinction between “everyday aesthetic sites” as opposed to those art objects “which belong to the refined and the special” (p. 5). He writes Everyday cultural sites, then, are set apart from experiences of art insofar as their appeal is to popular sentiment … Their references are familiar and together they help form the common culture. They directly address the present moment. Unlike the art of the art-world, they are neither a collection of sites that derive from the past, nor an attempt to articulate the future. (Duncum, 2002, p. 5) Duncum argues compellingly that the aesthetics of everyday encounters are offered by such sites as shopping malls, television, theme parks and fast-food restaurants and should not be overlooked by contemporary art educators as legitimate sources of content in contradistinction to the experiences provided by the arts of the museum. These latter are more likely to emphasize the one-of-a-kind, unique aspects of aesthetic experience. “Everyday life” in his view “involves the mundane world” which he characterizes as being unrelated to the major events of history. “It involves the reproduction and maintenance of life, not the production of new ways of thinking and acting” (Duncum 2002, p. 4). When Duncum turns his attention to fine art, he describes it as a genre that “focuses exclusively on certain privileged forms of the visual. Its focus is on works that are considered spiritually elevating. Art is said to take us out of ourselves. Aesthetic appreciation is thus an especially heightened, even consummatory experience” (Duncum, 2002, pp. 6–7). “Creating calm reflective sites, separate from the overt, dynamic of a materialistic society was for this tradition the point of both fine art and the aesthetic” (p. 7). By contrast everyday aesthetics emphasizes “the present moment, an immersion in the immediacy of current experiences and activities” (Duncum, 2002, p. 4). The musicologist Julian Johnson takes an opposing view. His little book Who Needs Classical Music? in large part can be read like a reply to Duncum though, of course, this was not its purpose. He writes: But sometimes art is not obviously concerned with the everyday. It is concerned with the extraordinary, the outer limits of our experience … it is the source of art’s unique value as a means of articulating areas of experience beyond everyday linguistic discourse, and at the same time, it is a means of becoming fantasy, more or less unrelated to the concerns of the everyday (Johnson, 2002, p. 49). And he continues: Art’s apparent refusal of the everyday is not a refusal of the “human” as such: it is a refusal of the idea that the sum of what it is to be human is found in the everyday (Johnson, 2002, p. 49). So, if we adopt Duncum’s orientation we would emphasize the aesthetic encounters of everyday life. If we take Johnson’s view we would look to the fine arts for a realm of experience that extends beyond the everyday, to enter perhaps, that spiritual world

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alluded to earlier. Duncum has a point in asking students to become critically attentive to the aesthetic dimensions of everyday life. However, it is equally the case that on some occasions we should look beyond the everyday! But, in addition, goals such as critical citizenship, mentioned earlier, do not require that we must choose one genre over another. This is where I differ with Duncum who in in some ways asks us to make a choice of one or the other. Moreover, his assumption that the fine arts only provide “calm, reflective sites,” or that they are politically neutral is just plain wrong. The Ninth Symphony of Beethoven is an intensely political document, having a history of nearly 200 years, (see Buch, 2003) but knowing its role as an expression of freedom, as well as the subversion of its message during the Nazi era in Germany, is not the same as having a direct encounter with its musical presence.

The Freedom of Cultural Life Works of fine art, by virtue of the fact that they often have come from other times and places, help keep alive cultural memories. In turn they give people some basis for understanding their lives in the present. Moreover, this notion of a remembered past is not limited to the interpretation of past works of art. Memory works in new works as well. For example, the African American artist Aminah Robinson actually describes her works as “memory maps”. She studied the history of her neighborhood community going back eleven generations at a time when it was called the “blackberry patch,” a neighborhood that later became the site of Poindexter Village in the early 1940s, a public housing project in Columbus, Ohio. Her art consists of enormous quilts showing the shops and the streets of her old neighborhood. Some of her works took more than eighteen years to complete. They portrayed the families that lived there, the life of a thriving neighborhood that has largely disappeared. Though trained as a professional artist, her art embodies these memories in a folk-art medium namely quilt-making, one accessible to the community that she celebrates (Columbus Museum of Art, 2002). Moreover, cultural memory is more likely to be experienced in the fine arts whereas objects in the popular culture often tend to focus on the present moment or the seasonal. Without a fine arts legacy one becomes a prisoner of the present, afflicted by a spiritual Altzheimer’s syndrome in which the individual is trapped passively in the momentary sensations of the popular. Now it is possible to say what role the fine arts and classical music are to serve in the context of a cultural studies curriculum. The aim of such a curriculum should be to make all the arts accessible, and this access is not only to enable future citizens to come to terms with their social world as it is represented in these various perspectives (popular and serious, or high and low) but to expand opportunities to enhance the freedom of cultural life, that is, the freedom to explore multiple forms of artistic expression unfettered by educational, ideological, ethnic, or social constraints about what can be art and what is legitimate to undertake in the study of art. The freedom of cultural life need not rule out formal considerations, nor need it exclude beauty as a purpose for particular works of art.

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Under the modernist aesthetic that was dominant in the last century the study of the various forms of popular culture were pushed to the sidelines. Similarly, the postmodern critique of modernism allows the various forms of popular culture to be studied seriously but it has sometimes called into question the fine arts as valid content on the charge of elitism. The freedom of cultural life is not likely to develop if particular genres are singled out for exclusion, nor can it develop in a curriculum where one or the other are only grudgingly represented.

References Buch, E. (2003). Beethoven’s ninth: A political history. (R. Miller, Trans.). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Columbus Museum of Art. (2002). Symphonic poem: The art of Aminah Robinson. Collumbus OH: Columbus Museum of Art in association with Abrams Inc. Danto, A. (1992). Beyond the Brillo box: The visual arts in post-historical perspective. New York: Noonday Press. Duncum, P. (2002). Clarifying visual culture art education. Art Education, 55(3), 6–11. Freedman, K., & Stuhr, P. (2004). Curriculum change for the 21st century: Visual culture in art education. In E. Eisner & M. Day (Eds.), Handbook of research and policy in art education. Reston, VA: National Art Education Association. Harpham, G. G. (1994). Aesthetics and the fundamentals of modernity. In G. Levine (Ed.), Aesthetics and ideology. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Johnson, J. (2002). Who needs classical music? Cultural choice and musical value. New York: Oxford University Press. Kipnis, L. (1986) “Refunctioning” reconsidered: Towards a left popular culture. In C. MacCabe (Ed.), High theory/ low culture (p. 21). New York: St. Martin’s Press. Levine, G. (1994). Reclaiming the aesthetic. In G. Levine (Ed.), Aesthetics and ideology. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Tavin, K. (2001) Swimming up-stream in the jean pool: Developing a pedagogy towards critical citizenship in visual culture. Journal of social theory in art education, 21, 129–158. Wallis, B. (1984) Art after modernism: Rethinking representation. New York: New Museum of Contemporary Art.

4 A HISTORY OF DRAMA EDUCATION: A SEARCH FOR SUBSTANCE Gavin Bolton University of Durham, U.K.

Introduction In an introduction to How Theatre Educates (2003) Kathleen Gallagher of OISE at the University of Toronto rightly concludes: “… there is no correct pedagogical model on offer for drama education.” By summarizing the input of a few selected teachers in the field, the aim of this chapter is to present images of the mosaic of activities that have occurred in schools under that umbrella term “drama education”. A brief background explanation is also provided where the choice of genre has been in part determined by the political, religious or cultural climate of the time. For instance, in the Palestinian town of Ramallah in 2001 Wasim Kurdi conducted a series of workshops with 14 to 18-year olds on the siege of Akko by Napoleon, 200 years earlier. Such improvised drama is only meaningful if it is seen as a deliberately chosen distancing ploy, for Kurdi did not want his young people to use drama for venting their anger about their own political crisis, but as a chance to reflect on the broader strands of oppression (see Davis, 2003). Thus to understand a teacher’s choice of drama it is often necessary to know something of the context. Regretfully, there is not room in this chapter to include any detailed accounts of drama research, theories of drama education, the school play, the formation of national and international drama associations, traditional children’s theater or the teaching of drama at university level, although these aspects are referred to occasionally. Rather it concentrates on trying to untangle the confused strands of classroom drama.

Pre-Twentieth-Century Drama in Schools Plato’s opposition on moral grounds to any form of representation, including dramatic recitation celebrating Dionysus, gave authoritative support to opponents of school drama throughout its history: “… prolonged indulgence” he warned his contemporaries, “in 45 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 45–62. © 2007 Springer.

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any form of literature leaves its mark on the moral nature of man …” (Plato, The Republic, trans.1955, Book 3, p. 395) He cannot have foreseen however when he also wrote, merely intending a pleasurable approach to learning, “… let your children’s lessons take the form of play”, (Ibid., Book 7, p. 537) that by the mid-twentieth century his words would be reinterpreted to mean freely expressed dramatic behavior in many classrooms round the Western world. For many centuries following classical times drama was excluded from education. Plato’s philosophical objection to theater turned into positive detestation in the early centuries of Christianity, partly because of the pagan subject matter, partly because of a general unease about breaking the Second Commandment relating to “graven image,” partly because of the mixed emotions it aroused, enjoyment overriding compassion, and finally because of the degradation thought to be brought about by actors and indeed by theaters themselves, “sinks of uncleanliness” (Coggin, 1956, p. 38) as Augustine unambiguously put it. The Roman Catholic Church, however, through its Monastery schools, notably St. Gall of Switzerland, introduced in the tenth century the beginnings of drama by inviting the boys to use improvised words to liturgical chants. Gradually, actions were added to illustrate Bible stories, Quem Queritis being among the first recorded manuscripts. The late mediaeval/early renaissance periods saw contrasted modes of theater: 1. Miracle plays entertaining the illiterate; 2. a Platonic “playful” approach to education resulting in the setting up of “La Casa Giocosa” in 1428 in Mantua, a “joyful house” of schooling; 3. a revival of Roman scripts in humanistic schools throughout northern Europe as a means of studying Latin; 4. in England, the performance of Shakespearean texts as models of rhetoric. Dominating education during this period, however, were the Jesuit Schools, whose Catholic philosophy adopted the Aristotelian love of theater. Suitably pious plays performed in Latin became a regular feature of religious education on the continent, eventually extending to Poland and Russia. In some places, Vienna, for example, the Jesuit school was the only place where theatrical performances could be seen. By the seventeenth century the Jesuit influence on drama spread to Catholic royalty. King Louis X1V even encouraged performances by the convent girls in the House of Saint-Cyr. However, the growth of enthusiasm for drama in Jesuit schools had not necessarily the approval of the Catholic Church outside the Jesuit boundaries. Father P. Lami, a French Catholic priest protested: Apart from the fact that the plays are usually pitiful, that they waste a lot of time, that they distract the mind, that they wreak havoc with studies, over-excite the brain, and go to the head, they are, moreover, contrary to the gospel and to our statutes. (Coggin, 1956, p. 96) Although written in 1685, the antipathy it expresses towards school drama and the reasons given for that hostility have never entirely disappeared even to present day. By 1764 the Austrian Empire, which included Bohemia and Moravia where school

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drama had been popular, set about banning drama in schools (see Gaffen, 1999), while Puritanism, the extreme form that the Reformation took in England, ensured that the extinction of any kind of dramatic art in schools was sustained virtually until the end of the nineteenth century.

Drama Education from 1900s to Present Day: Both Shadow and Substance Reintroducing Drama into the Classroom as Speech-Training If teachers were to revive an interest in drama education, then the logical step in the first half of the century was to link it with the teaching of English literature and language. A 1921 British Government publication firmly placed drama in the classroom as something to be written, read or acted – “in little scenes or pieces” and read out either from the pupils’ desks or from the front of the class by teacher’s chair (see Board of Education, 1921). In that year, however, such dramatic enactment was felt to be a brave step, building on the 20 years of pioneering work by Elsie Fogerty (1923) who in 1906 founded the Central School of Speech and Drama, an institution still having considerable influence on London drama teaching today. Thus began an enthusiastic, albeit narrow, approach to the study and practice of texts. “Elocution”, as it was called, became very popular with the middle classes through private lessons from private teachers, along with graded examinations marking achievement levels. Paradoxically, this most socially interactive of the arts became an individualized exercise in speech practice, creating a genre of drama education unique to the United Kingdom and some of its colonies including Australia, New Zealand, India and South Africa. Clive Sansom, for instance, immigrated to Tasmania in 1951, where his influence on speech training spread throughout Australia. Even today Speech and Drama Colleges in London organize examinations in these countries.

The Early Attempts to Liberalize Classroom Dramatic Activity Some schools, however, were aligning themselves with the new credo of “Progressive Education”. With its roots in the European philosophies of Plato, Rousseau, Goethe and Schiller, “education as experience” rather than book learning became the new way of thinking about how children should be taught. Experiments in education following the principles of teachers such as Froebel, Pestalozzi, and Montessori emphasized the importance of the individual child. “Freedom,” “self expression,” and “activity,” became the shibboleths of progressivism. Whereas some schools across Europe allowed young children to enjoy free “Wendy House” play, others adopted a more purposeful exploitation of dramatics. Esther Boman in Stockholm, for example, Principal of a progressive education Girls’ School (1909–1936) used drama to focus on aspects of the curriculum and on personal problems connected with the girls’ lives. Her ideas, however, were not published until 1932 (see Hagglund, 2001). In Prague, too, experiments in a more liberal use of drama were tried but without subsequent publication (see Slavik, 1996). The only

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full accounts of this kind of experimental teaching published earlier, came from two British teachers. From her appointment in 1897, a village school head teacher, Harriet Finlay-Johnson1 (1911), experimented by using drama to teach the subjects of the curriculum. The pupils in her class, aged roughly 10 to 13, wrote, produced and rehearsed their own plays, performing them for each other in the classroom, each play demonstrating aspects of the curriculum they were currently studying. In keeping with the “democratic” conception of education promoted by John Dewey (1916) in America, the children saw themselves and their teacher as “fellow workers” with a shared responsibility for turning selected subject-matter into dramatic form. This collective approach to self-learning through drama was matched in an entirely different kind of school. Appointed in 1911 as English master to a prestigious boys’ independent school in Cambridge, Henry Caldwell Cook (1917), adopted the Platonic term “play-way” and used drama as the central methodology for teaching English. Pupils successfully transformed prose, poetry and Shakespearean texts into dramatic action based on what was known of the Elizabethan stage. The word “successfully” is deliberately introduced into the last sentence because interested contemporaries reading Finlay-Johnson’s or Caldwell Cook’s publications or actually visiting the Perse School where Cook taught could very well have put these dramatic achievements down to the teacher’s “genius” or “charisma”. This raises a problem with respect to any pioneer whose outstanding skills appear to be unmatchable. In a 1922 unpublished report to the Board of Education the Inspector affirms: … it would be very dangerous for teachers to be encouraged to visit the School with the idea that they will find there something that they might and should imitate. That being so, it seems clear that if an application is ever made for an Art 39 grant for this experimental work, it would be well for the Board not to entertain it. Using this approach indeed remained isolated, many teachers experiencing failure. One teacher, a distinguished classroom practitioner, was made painfully aware when he tried this “playway” approach to teaching history. In achieving little more than “undisguised amusem*nt” from his students, he dismissively summarized this new method with: “In grasping at the substance, you have even lost the shadow” (Tomkinson, 1921, p. 46).

Classroom “Acting” In the United Kingdom during the period before World War II there were no teachertraining institutions offering their students advice on how to apply this “playway” approach to Drama. In Evanston, Illinois, however, from 1924 “Dramatics” was introduced into local schools as an elective, guidance being given from the staff, led by Winifred Ward, of Northwestern University’s School of Speech. “Creative Dramatics”, as it became called, was thus introduced as a school subject in its own right. That drama was “taught” rather than “used”, gave the classes freedom to invent their own plays with all that implied of acting skills and “… a feeling for their theatre” (Ward, 1930, p. 27). Thus America’s greatest pioneer in the history of drama education, along

A History of Drama Education

with her contemporary, Isabel Burger and others who followed in her path, such as Geraldine Siks and Nellie McCaslin (1984), found a pathway in schools that paralleled professional theater. Nellie McCaslin2 of New York became a world authority on drama education, particularly in training teachers how to use stories, including students’ personal histories, to create their own dramatic form for presentation, a genre that continues to spread worldwide today (see Kelin, 2005). These American pioneers attracted visitors from all over Europe, especially Scandinavia. For instance, in 1942 Elsa Olenius of Sweden modeled her teaching on Burger’s “creative playmaking”, setting up Var Teater in Stockholm, the first children’s theater in Europe to receive municipal support. Indeed Scandinavia3 throughout the century became a pivotal laboratory for drama teaching, reflecting, researching, and revising the approaches of all the world’s leaders. Most have been welcomed as visitors, culminating in the 1000 delegates arriving for the IDEA – International Drama in Education Association – World Congress held in Bergen in 2001.

Every Child Has His Own Drama Within Him: A New Kind of Substance? – Or Shadow? Peter Slade (1954, 1968, 1977) in the United Kingdom was at first part of a new movement, popular in many European4 and American countries, introducing “Children’s Theatre” into schools. Professional actors came into the school to entertain pupils with a play written and directed by Slade and specifically directed at a particular age group. He was the first director to insist that such performances be “in-the-round.” By the 1940s, however, he was beginning to train teachers in his unique classroom methodology. In claiming that every child has his own “child drama” within him, he built on psychological theories of play that had been published since the beginning of the century5 (see Isaacs, 1932; Lee, 1915; Sully, 1896). Typically, Slade required children to spread out in the school hall, each sitting cross-legged in a space of his or her own, whilst he, from the front, wove a story from their ideas. He would then proceed gently, invitingly, to narrate that story while all the class stood and simultaneously created the dictated actions. Sometimes the class would gradually merge into small groups and play out their own fantasies loosely connected with the story. Alternatively, he would put on a “78 rpm” gramophone record and the children would, separately and spontaneously, dance to the music. At the climax of their free expression in either action or dance he looked for what he called “golden moments.” For the children, these trustful, exhilarating experiences were meant to be an expression of an unconscious dream, a spiritual journey. Thus drama was seen to have a therapeutic aspect. Indeed Slade gave much of his professional time to working with “under-achieving and unhappy children.”6 For some followers of Slade this seemed a bye-product of the work in psychiatry founded in Vienna by Moreno (1946) in 1918 and continued in New York. For others this work blended in with the new philosophy of “educating the whole person.” It was the architectural setting, however, that fixed the nature of Peter Slade’s approach in the minds of most teachers. He recommended the use of the school hall, because “Child Drama” needed freedom of space. These spaces were normally allocated only for a school’s morning assembly and physical education lessons, a daily routine of teacher instructions to pupils evenly spaced

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throughout the hall. Thus the new drama activity in England was slipped into schools under the guise of physical education; “stripping for drama” became part of the pupils’ routine. Drama as fundamentally linked with physical training was being reaffirmed, from an entirely different source, coinciding uneasily with Slade’s use of free dance. From the beginning of the century the practice of Jaques-Dalcroze (1921) in the field of Eurhythmics as a basis for all art education, had had a minor effect in Great Britain on progressive thinking about school drama, but a new pioneer of considerably more influence arrived from Germany in the 1930s. This was Rudolf Laban (1948) whose classification and planned procedures for basic human movement were rapidly taken up by the British teaching profession (the female teaching profession, that is, for the men were called up for military service) as a new approach to girls’ Physical Education in Secondary schools. But Laban was a man of the theater; he used his training in movement as a way of preparing actors, so that teachers in schools following a Laban program had no difficulty in seeing a kinship with professional theater. And yet it also paralleled what Slade was promoting in the primary schools. The government-led conclusion seemed to be that Laban/Slade methodologies, all requiring the school hall or gymnasium, were indeed providing a basic training for all the arts, including acting. Thus developed a curious ambiguity towards the subject. Visitors to a primary or secondary school in Yorkshire to observe drama lessons, could find themselves witnessing a series of carefully sequenced Laban movement exercises that had no make-believe element whatsoever. On departing they would be assured that such an approach was a “preparation” for future drama work. Thus drama without fiction – a new kind of shadow or a deeper, dance form of dramatic expression? Confusion grew in England over whether appointees to the Drama Advisory Service or to teacher-training institutions should be seen as experts in traditional theater, speech-training, Laban movement or Sladian Child Drama. The latter, Child Drama, overtook the others, Peter Slade becoming for many years the virtual spokesman for the Government. Teachers of theater, in particular, found themselves pushed aside. The school stage became virtually redundant, except for the annual school play or the Christmas Nativity. Also ignored were the few remaining teachers who thought that drama was a classroom activity for exploring the subjects of the curriculum, for in Sladian Drama content was less important than freedom of expression. That children once wrote their own plays in the classroom became long forgotten. Any teachers who felt uneasy about the freedom that Child Drama offered felt more secure when Brian Way (1967), a friend of Slade’s and a pioneer in Children’s Theatre with audience participation, came on the scene. He used the same structure as Slade – a physical education format – but he replaced the fantasy journey of the teacher’s narration with short exercises in mimetic actions of everyday life and aimed at developing each child’s intuition and concentration capacities. The personal development of the individual became the new objective for this “creative drama,” a term quickly picked up in other countries, notably in Canada where the British academic, Richard Courtney (1968), contributed massively to providing a theoretical basis for the work. Even a non-Western country such as Turkey wrestled with the distinction between “theatre in

A History of Drama Education

schools” and “creative drama” (see San, 1998). However, Way’s anti-theater position paradoxically encouraged the introduction into schools of fashionable actor-training devices, so that a teacher’s lessons plans began to include “warm-ups,” games, relaxation, and sensitivity exercises. Indeed, from one point of view it could be argued that Slade and Way’s innovatory classroom practice was but an extension of experimental work already taking place in theater schools in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Paris, New York, Chicago, and Bristol.

Improvisation in Actor-Training – The Substance Lies in the “Releasing” Improvised entertainment began, long before Classical Greek times, with the Shaman and the Clown. The Shaman offered his or her audiences a glimpse of the “other” world or the dark side of the unconscious, while the Clown offered childish, scatological fantasies, or outrageous, satirical commentary. They both stand for a virtual reality, the very essence of the imagined. Absorbed into drama they appear in the Dorian Mime of Megara, the Sanskrit drama of India, the Commedia dell’arte of Italy, the little devils who ran amok through the spectators at the Mystery plays and the “masqueraders” of the Trinidadian carnivals today. Thus begins the notion of improvised entertainment, a concept that was taken up seriously in the twentieth century with actor-trainers such as Vsevelod Meyerhold in Russia in 1910, and Jacques Copeau in the 1920s, in France. Both set up institutions with a view to reviving Commedia dell’arte. But their contribution extended beyond the revival of a particular genre: they became absorbed in improvisation as a valid training exercise. Meyerhold introduced what became known as “Biomechanics,” a training of the body in kinaesthetic, spatial, and relational awareness; Copeau included games, mime, and mask work, alongside gymnastics. These routines as preparation for dramatic performance became the norm of progressive actor-training, so perhaps those visitors to Yorkshire schools should not have been disappointed, for physical training was indeed to be the new “substance”. There is, however, a parallel story to the European scene: in Chicago a city with a long-established tradition of theater, The Chicago Little Theater was opened in 1912 by Maurice Brown and his wife Ellen Van Volkenberg, beginning what became known as the “little theatre” movement in America. Living nearby was an astonishing figure in American Education, Neva L. Boyd, who in 1911 had already set up the Chicago Training School for Playground Workers. By 1914 she was appointed as Director of the Department of Recreation in the Chicago School of Civics and Philanthropy. Boyd was both a practitioner and an academic sociologist promoting the use of Play in teaching children and adults. Her classroom spaces hummed with physical games, story-telling, folk dancing and dramatics. It is not surprising that her philosophy has been linked with Caldwell Cook’s “playway” approach to education. Her student, Viola Spolin, became the leading authority on the use of Theater Games and extended that philosophy and practice in further directions, for example, training community workers to use drama in their work and introducing the idea of improvising from audience-suggested material. Thus began the link with Chicago Little Theater and long before Spolin’s 1963 publication, Improvisation for Theater, the “Chicago style” genre of theater performance

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entered the school system. From Spolin’s position as Director of the Young Actor’s Company in California in 1946 the practice in improvisation became, as she defined it, “playing the game”. This was perhaps a misleading construction, for in some schools the word “improvisation” was reduced to “skit” with all that can imply: having fun, being slick and, inevitably perhaps, “playing for laughs.” But in another part of America, New York, a very different meaning was being given to “improvisation”. In 1924 profound interest in Stanislavski led to the establishment of the American Laboratory Theater. In addition to the physical aspect of training, improvisation was used to take actors on a private, inward journey. The object of this exercise, under the guidance of Maria Ouspenskaya, was to put the actor in touch with the life of the character. Later however, under Lee Strasbourg, the activity was directed towards helping actors to meet their own selves and to break down personal blockages. Thus professional theater seemed to overlap with therapy. Supported by the psychodramatic theory and practice of Moreno and later, by the personal growth literature of such thinkers as Carl Rogers (1961) and Abraham Maslow (1954), improvisation became associated in the minds of both theater directors and some drama teachers in schools with “finding the authentic self ”. In many schools throughout the western world, drama workshops acquired this therapeutic flavor. There was still yet another use of improvisation, aimed at helping actors but also adopted in some classrooms. Its instigator, Keith Johnstone, following the experimental work of Jacques Copeau, Michel St. Denis, Jacques Lecoq and Dario Fo, was himself a London teacher before he turned to work with the Royal Court Theater actors. What started in the 1960s as “hysterically funny” (Johnstone, 1979, p. 27) improvised explorations setting out to free the imaginations of the actors, gradually developed into public demonstrations in various London colleges and then, with a group of actors. Taking on the title “The Theatre Machine”, it grew into performances round many countries of Europe. Some London secondary schools, learning of this new lively approach on their doorstep, set about freeing the imaginations of their Drama classes with this “hysterically funny” way of working. Johnstone moved on to Canada, eventually settling for the rest of his career at the University of Calgary from whence his “International Theatresports Institute” became established on every continent, a model of comedy combined with competitiveness and slickness that many schools found irresistible.

A New Kind of Substance – “Change in Understanding” Dorothy Heathcote was appointed to Newcastle-upon-Tyne University, Institute of Education in 1950. Local teachers were excited by her “A Man in a Mess”7 drama work, but it took the rest of the world and, in particular, American Professors Betty Jane Wagner (1976) and Anne Thurman, and in Canada, leading practitioners such as Norah Morgan8 and Juliana Saxton (1991) to give full recognition to this innovative approach breaking with all previous traditions. In the UK Heathcote’s efforts aroused suspicion, so that when her University applied to run the country’s first full-time Advance Diploma course in Drama for experienced teachers, the Government gave its approval – providing Peter Slade taught part of the course. There was much respect but little meeting point in either philosophy or practice between these two pioneers.

A History of Drama Education

Both these remarkable people, like Winifred Ward before them, based their practice on honoring what children had to offer. One point of practical similarity was that they both tended to use a large space, such as a hall or gymnasium so that a whole class could be actively engaged. For Heathcote, however, drama is a collective enterprise, “collective” in more than one sense. The class as a whole, often huddled in a tight group on the floor or sitting in a cluster of chairs in front of a blackboard, is invited to make skeletal decisions about the choice of topic for the drama. Whereas the well-established drama lesson advocated by Nellie McCaslin, for instance, might start with: “What do we understand about this character?” for Heathcote the question is likely to be: “How shall we set about solving this problem?” It is the teacher’s function of “teacher-in-role” (see Ackroyd, 2004) that brings extra complications to what became known as “living through” drama.9 The teacher, playing a carefully chosen role, maneuvers the drama toward credibility and thoughtfulness. The teacher operates as a playwright/director and as teacher/artist, planting a seed, selecting the setting and just the right fictional moment in time that will gradually focus the children’s choice of topic and resonate into deeper layers of meaning. Thus Heathcote replaces Slade’s narrative of instructions with her own here-and-now in-role input to the drama. The group faced a problem, a mystery, a journey, a search, or a crisis of mankind – “a man in a mess” – or, alternatively, the class took on the responsibility of an investigator’s role into precision. This was a new genre of theater that brought substance back to the drama lesson, culminating at its best in a moment of awe that belongs to all forms of theater. As Mike Fleming put it: “Any significant understanding of what being ‘good at drama’ entails, must include reference to content” (Fleming, 1994, p. 53). In my own practice at Durham University I tried to bring theater form to a combination of Heathcote/Way approaches, arguing that dramatic play and theater should be seen as a continuum. So have we arrived at true educational “substance” here? Not in the view of Brian Way’s faithful promoters such as Margaret Faulkes-Jendyk of Alberta and, later, more traditional teachers such as David Hornbrook (1991) in the United Kingdom, both of whom felt somewhat disenfranchised by the growing popularity round the English-speaking world of Heathcote’s approach. Faulkes-Jendyk (1974, 1975) argued that Heathcote’s teaching lacked “drama, creativity and education”. Even supporters of an improvisational approach recognized potential flaws. Helen Nicholson (1995), a leading British academic and practitioner, pointed out that classroom drama can be dominated by cultural dispositions such as gender stereotyping. Likewise, Johnny Saldanˇa (1997) of Arizona State University drew attention to the potential cultural mistrust that can occur when teacher and class are of different ethnic groups. It is also true that drama can become a platform for a teacher’s ideology – humanist, religious or political. David Davis’(1983) tongue-in-cheek choice of title for an article on the training of young employees, “Drama for Deference or Drama for Defiance?”, nicely captures the urge felt among many radical teachers to harness drama for political ends and Sharon Grady’s (2000) more recent polemic, casting drama as a tool for confronting our own prejudices, warns against assuming that drama can do nothing but good. And there can be government imposition. For instance, in the late 1940s in Poland, performance competitions between schools were set up with a view to “glorifying the new structures of the state and the role of the Soviet Union in the world” (see Lewiki,

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1995). Tor-Helge Allern (1999) of Norway gives us a bald warning: “Drama can … be part of a destructive movement …” (p. 202).

Actor-Teachers Heathcote’s work spread into the developed version of children’s theater, newly entitled Theatre in Education (TIE). Brian Way (1923–2006), in the 1950s and 1960s had successfully created his London-based professional touring companies that experimented in conducting “in-the-round” performances while school audiences at fixed moments in the play gave active support to the actors – providing background sounds or answering a character’s questions. The format of Theatre in Education, however, extended the performance into a half-day or full-day workshop. Tony Jackson (1980) of the University of Manchester, draws attention to the new structure and objectives: The T.I.E. programme is not a performance in schools of a self-contained play, a “one-off ” event that is here today and gone tomorrow, but a co-ordinated and carefully structured programme of work, usually devised and researched by the company, around a topic of relevance both to the school curriculum and to the children’s own lives, presented in school by the company and involving the children directly in an experience of the situations and problems that the topic throws up. (p. ix) This new approach required a huge organizational shift from national children’s theater touring companies to a theatre-in-education company attached to a local city theater, Coventry’s “Belgrade Theatre” being the first. Often the selection of the theme for the drama was made in consultation with a local school. The term “actor-teacher” was coined, explicitly linking TIE [theatre-in-education (see O’Toole, 1976)] with DIE [drama in education]. How very different was the UK “Children’s Theatre” and its subsequent “Theatre in Education” from the American and other countries’ versions of “Children’s Theatre,” a tradition of plays written especially for children by skilled playwrights and performed in auditoria for children’s audiences.10 Edward Bond (see Davis, 2005) is perhaps the only playwright of world distinction who has devoted many years to writing for and working alongside a TIE company (The Big Brum Company in Birmingham, UK). There is not room in this chapter to outline in detail the “sea changes” that Heathcote brought about in her own approaches. She developed, for example, a way of working in drama with severely challenged adults and children; she introduced with her “Mantle of the Expert” (1995)11 approach to curriculum teaching what will surely become central to any vision of the future in teaching the young. Her present practice, helping young people to study texts, involves an extension of “Chamber Theatre” (see Heathcote, 2005, pp.7–17) begun by Robert Breen (1986) at Northwestern University, USA.

Extending Heathcote’s Approach Whilst a deadening hand, political as well as philosophical, lay temporarily12 on the development of drama in UK schools for the final decade of the twentieth century

A History of Drama Education

elsewhere in the world the picture was more positive. In Poland, for example, Halina Machulska13 set up a center for drama education [often referred to as “British” drama, meaning the “Heathcotian methodology”] in Warsaw’s “Ochota Theatre”. At this time too, at the Ohio State University, Cecily O’Neill (1995) sought a way of explicitly combining basic theater structures with Heathcote’s communal, “living through” drama. Using “Process Drama”, as it came to be called as a way of distinguishing it from the “performance drama” of many American Schools, O’Neill would select a pre-text that provided a class with an impetus for action within a tight, coherent dramatic framework, releasing students into unknown improvisational territory. [More recently, John Carroll (2004) at CSU, Bathurst, has extended O’Neill’s concept of “pre-text” by introducing the immersive stimuli offered by digital technology, including email and the Internet]. In Toronto, David Booth (1994), a charismatic figure in world drama, has been creating his own version of communal, “living through” drama, a genre linking drama with stories, not the direct enactment of a story as in Winifred Ward’s approach, but, rather, with the class’s response to the themes or issues emanating from the story-line. Both “Process Drama” and “Storydrama” often rely on the use of “teacher-in-role” and the ambiguous seduction of a guide “leading the way while walking backwards” as O’Neill (1995, p. 67) nicely describes it. Consistently, the purpose of their work was growth in understanding.

Beginnings of a World Picture If the focus for innovation in classroom practice has tended to center on British and North American pioneers, from 1990 onwards Australia became a leading location for experimental practice and academic research. A sense of enterprise had uniquely brought its geographically distanced universities, under the leadership of Paul Roebuck,14 John O’Toole (Griffiths & Melbourne Universities), John Deverall and Kate Donelan (University of Melbourne, where the first teacher-training course in drama was set up by Ron Danielson), Robin Pascoe (Western Australia), Brad Haseman (Queensland University of Technology), John Hughes and Jenny Simons, University of Sydney, Kathleen Warren (Macquarrie University) and others, into a cooperative thrust toward an expansion of educational drama, well-coordinated through the energetic National Association for Drama in Education, now “Drama Australia.” In their search for a wider, multicultural, South-East Asian perspective, they distanced themselves from any particular philosophy or methodology. They further raised the standard of refereed journals, initially under the editorship of Philip Taylor of Griffith University, and began a program of research into drama teaching, “new paradigms” (see for example Taylor, 1995) becoming the in vogue expression. United States was the only other country to formalize research programs, mostly emerging from Arizona State University under the inspiration of Lin Wright who devoted her long career to classroom drama. It was also during the 1990s that Augusto Boal’s name featured on international drama conference programs. Mostly working with adults his approach nevertheless became a model for secondary classroom practice. His experimental theater work had started much earlier, in the early 1960s, in his homeland, Brazil where he developed the idea that an audience could stop a performance and suggest alternative behaviors

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for the characters. He extended this eventually to inviting audience members onto the stage to take over from the actors, the plays always having the immediacy of current social or political issues in which the audience members had a vested interest. Indeed audiences saw themselves as victims of the very regime being openly exposed on stage. He called these newly empowered members of the public: “spect-actors.” In 1971, during the military coup, Boal was imprisoned as a cultural activist and subsequently was exiled to Argentina. From there he chose to live in Paris where he was able to resume his theater activities – with a difference. He now had to work at one remove, no longer engaging in grass-roots activism, but in demonstrating to France and other nearby countries his innovative use of theater with the oppressed. Such was his success that by the time he was able to return to Rio de Janeiro in 1986, Centers for the Theater of the Oppressed had been established worldwide, for example, the MS-Nepal and Aarohan Theater Group [combining Danish and Nepalese theater groups], the Blossom Trust of Tamil Nadu in India, and the People’s Popular Theatre of Kenya (see Boal, 1985). Drama teachers flocked to his demonstrations at conferences; “forum theater” had become the new cult, the exposure of and opposition to “oppression” becoming the new substance. As Boal, no longer working with “political victims,” was obliged to target alternative issues (see Saldanˇa, 2005) he came closer to Heathcote’s approach, both pioneers having been influenced by the philosophy of Paulo Freire (1972) and the practice of Bertolt Brecht. A combination of the approaches of both Heathcote and Boal can be found, for example, in the work today of Beatriz Cabral (see Cabral, 1998) in Brazil and in the worldwide publicly demonstrated techniques of Jonathan Neelands of Warwick University whose expert teaching practices have become a model for lively discussion at most international drama education conferences. A recent move in developing countries, promoted in part by charities,15 such as the South and Central Asia Region of Save the Children and UNICEF, organizes workshops in Bangladesh and Malawi, respectively, (see Prentki, 2003; Keyworth & Pugh, 2003) has adopted the title of Theatre for Development (TFD) the original intention of which was the creation through workshops of a community’s indigenous story-based project to be shared with a local audience. Although the similarities between TIE, TFD, Boal’s, and Heathcote’s practice seem barely to have been acknowledged,16 these and other parallel strands have been drawn together under the broader label of “Applied Theatre”.17 Experiments in this use of theater have been tried in different parts of the world for many years. For instance, in 1987 Carole Miller took a program dealing with child sexual abuse round Victoria, B.C. schools where professional consultants were present with whom members of the audience could have personal consultations immediately after the performance. Attempts have been made in some African countries [for instance, the Themba Interactive Theatre Company of Johannesburg] and in Thailand [Sang Fan Wan Mai, an amateur Group] to use theater to combat AIDS. Among the most well-established examples of “Applied theater,” although retaining the more traditional “Theatre-in-Education” title, is Arts-inAction, in Trinidad and Tobago under the directorship of Dani Lyndersay of the University of the West Indies. Since 1994 Lyndersay has been seeking to explore a range of problematic subjects “from social issues such as incest, child abuse, domestic violence,

A History of Drama Education

gang warfare and drug and alcohol addiction, to the green revolution and corporate managerial relationships”18 (see Lyndersay, 2005). “Sowing the seeds of a peaceful future” is the aim of teachers and university professors working together in Bosnia and Herzegovina under the project management of Roger Chamberlain (see McEntagart, 1998). Official recognition of the concept of “Applied Theatre” was confirmed in the mid-1990s by the Universities of Manchester and Griffiths where postgraduate courses were set up by James Thompson (see Thompson, 2001) and John O’Toole respectively. Philip Taylor of NYU, the first to edit the electronic Applied Theatre Journal, is among those who are trying to provide a theoretical basis for this kind of work, seeking, for instance, to draw a line between Applied Theatre and Drama Therapy, an area of healing developed and researched by his distinguished colleague, Robert Landy (1986) since the 1970s. Finding that line is critical, for the actors must not see themselves as therapists, confusing shadow and substance. Taylor’s headings given in the introduction to Applied Theatre (2003) summarize the aims of this approach: “Raising awareness”; “Posing alternatives”; “Healing psychological wounds or barriers”; “Challenging contemporary discourses”; “Voicing the views of the silent or the marginal.”

Conclusion Many teachers of drama and theater will feel comfortable with the above list of multipurpose aims but for those whose concern is to concentrate on textual study or theater practice, as do the partenariat of France where teacher and actor cooperate in the classroom, such a list will seem inappropriate. Likewise the organization set up by Leah Gaffen in 1993, of “Class Acts” in Prague, with the purpose of training teachers of the English language, or the “Stopaids” street theater in Ghana, coordinated by Joseph Arthur, or the Jagran Theatre, a clown mime company working in the villages of India will each have its own well-defined, single-minded objective. Since the setting up in 1992 in Oporto of an International Drama in Education Association (IDEA), drama teachers all over the world have been communicating and celebrating together a wide range of aims and practices, but sensing, too, a shared, deeper purpose. Saldanˇa confirms that “The recent movements of theatre for social change and communitybased theatre have influenced and affected many American drama practitioners’ ways of working.”19 In 2002 Larry O’Farrell of Toronto, IDEA’s President, expressed something of the underlying faith that a diverse group of teachers share in drama education. Referring to the many conflicts recently occurring in parts of the world he writes: Numerous testimonies have been given by teachers, artists, social workers, therapists and psychologists, working in refugee camps, bomb shelters, hospitals and improvised schools, on their use of drama and theatre to help children and young people to express their feelings of pain, loss, sorrow and anger and to declare their will to live and their hope for the future.’ (O’Farrell, 2002) Such an expression of confidence in drama is encouraging but idealistic. Experienced practitioners in the art know that its application requires meticulous judgment in: choice

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of subtext, choice of point of entry, choice of dramatic form, choice of conventions, choice of texts, degree of persistence, pace of working, degree of student responsibility, extent and style of leader’s input, timing, and modes of reflection. Shifra Schonmann of Haifa University, who has devoted much of her career to working with Jewish and Arab children for an understanding of peace, concludes that “Doing things wrongly is worse than doing nothing” (Schonmann, 2001). Real life, Schonmann reminds us, can sometimes burn through any dramatisation causing its framework to collapse. One can in this truth glimpse the grounds for Plato’s disapproval. But dramatic art does have its own means of protection. We call it “distancing,” a concept finely illustrated by Brian Edmiston of the University of Ohio in his account of attempting to ease sociocultural conflict within a school in Northern Ireland (Edmiston, 2002). Thus if we add “selection of the right degree of distancing” to the above list, then perhaps it can be claimed that we are on our way to true “substance.”

Notes 1. A doctoral dissertation by Virginia Page Tennyson (1999) records a British contemporary of Harriet Finlay-Johnson by the name of Percival Chubb experimenting in drama teaching in a school in New York. 2. Nellie McCaslin died in February 2005 at the age of 90. 3. Leaders include Nils Braanaas of Oslo, Stig A. Eriksson of Bergen, Björn Rasmussen of Trondheim, Anita Grünbaum of Västerberg, and Janek Szatkowski of Aarhus. 4. In the 1950s when Slade was reaching a peak in his career, puppetry became popular in countries on the Continent. For example, in Italy, Maria Signorelli introduced puppetry to teach children’s literature. 5. The first publication introducing the concept of L’instinct dramatique in young children came from the French psychologist Bernard Perez (1886). 6. This is quote from his Obituary written by Harry Dodds and published in The Guardian Friday, August 20, 2004, following his death in June, at the age of 92. 7. Heathcote took this label from Kenneth Tynan’s “Theatre and Living” in Declaration (1957) by Tom Maschler. 8. Norah Morgan of Brock University, Ontario, died in November 2004. 9. Heathcote gives the source of the expression “living through” as a translation of the Greek meaning of “drama” in “Drama as Challenge” by D. Heathcote in Uses of Drama by J. Hodgson.(1972, p. 157). 10. A leading authority on this traditional form of children’s theatre was Lowell Swortzell of N.Y.U. who died in August 2004. One of his many publications was: Theatre for Young Audiences: Around the World in 21 Plays (1997). 11. Research on the use in schools in South-Eastern England of “Mantle of the Expert” in the Primary Curriculum is currently being jointly conducted by Luke Abbott of Essex, Tim Taylor of Norwich and Brian Edmiston of the University of Ohio. Also see Warner (2004) and her notion of “framed expertise” 12. Leading figures in British Universities, such as Judith Ackroyd, Mike Fleming, Andy Kempe, Jonothan Neelands, Helen Nicholson and Joe Winston have raised the standards of drama teaching once more, their courses attracting world interest. 13. Machulska, Halina (1993) “Drama prowadzona przez Dorothy Heathcote” in Drama: Poadnik dla nauczycieli I wychowawacow 6 [12–14] It is interesting to note that the British use of the word “Drama” in this educational context could not be translated into a Polish equivalent. 14. Roebuck set up (in Terrigal New South Wales in 1974) the first of many influential Australian conferences. 15. It could be said that source of funding is now to some extent dictating the selection of issues. 16. A contemporary view of the common ground between Heathcotean drama, TIE, and Edward Bond’s conception of theater can be found in Edward Bond and the Dramatic Child (2005) edited by David Davis.

A History of Drama Education

17. Barbara May McIntyre a pioneer of drama education in America and Canada, who died at the age of 88 in June 2005, bequeathed a fund for a Graduate Scholarship, specifically directed toward “Applied Theatre,” to the University of Victoria where she had been founder of the Theater Department. 18. As I write this chapter (March 2005) Dani Lyndersay is consulting in Sri Lanka on how the arts can help in the rehabilitation process following Tsunami. 19. Private letter by Johnny Saldanˇa, April 2005.

References Ackroyd, J. (2004). Role reconsidered: A re-evaluation of the relationship between teacher-in-role and acting. Stoke-on-Trent & Sterling, USA: Trentham Books. Allern, T.-H. (1999). Drama and aesthetic knowing in (late) modernity. In C. Miller & J. Saxton (Eds.), International conversations. Toronto: The International Drama in Education Research Instiute. Boal, A. (1985). Theatre of the oppressed, New York: Theatre Communications Group. Board of Education (1921). The teaching of English in England. London: HMSO. Booth, D. (1994). Drama and the making of meanings. Newcastle upon Tyne UK: National Drama Publications. Breen, S. (1986). Chamber theatre. Evanston, IL: William Caxton. Cabral, B. (1998). Shells: Awareness of the environment through drama, Selected IDEIRI Papers. N.A.D.I.E Journal, 22(1), 27–31. Caldwell-Cook, H. (1917). The Playway. London: Heinemann. Carroll, J. (2004). Digital pre-text: Process drama and everyday technology. In C. Hatton & M. Anderson (Eds.), The State of our Art (pp. 66–76). Sydney: Current Press (chapt. 6). Coggin, A. (1956). Drama and education. London: Thames and Hudson. Courtney, R. (1968). Play, drama and thought. London: Cassel. Davis, D. (1983) Drama for deference or drama for defiance. 2D Journal, 3, 29. Davis, D. (2003). Keynote address at the 3rd international conference of drama teachers in Athens. NATD Journal, 19(2), 39. Davis, D. (Ed.). (2005). Edward bond and the dramatic child. Stoke-on-Trent UK & Sterling USA: Trentham Books. Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and education. New York: The MacMillan Company. Edmiston, B. (2002). Playing in the dark with flickering lights: Using drama to explore sociocultural conflict. In B. Rasmussen & A.-L. Ostern (Eds.), Playing betwixt and between (pp. 178–187). The IDEA Dialogues 2001. Faulkes-Jendyk, M. (1975). Creative dramatics learners face objective examination. Children’s Theater Review USA XXII, Number 2, 3. Finlay-Johnson, H. (1911). The dramatic method of teaching. London: Blackie. Fleming, M. (1994). Starting drama teaching. London: David Fulton Publications. Fogerty, E. (1923). The speaking of english verse. London & New York: J. M. Dent. Freire, P. (1972). Pedagogy of the oppressed (M. B. Ramos, Trans.). Harmondsworth: Penguin. Gaffen, L. (1999). Following Comenius: Drama education in the Czech Republic. Perspectives Journal British Council, 9, 34–37. Gallagher, K., & Booth, D. (2003). How theatre educates: Convergences and counterpoints. Toronto: University of Toronto. Grady, S. (2000). Drama and diversity: A pluralistic perspective for educational drama. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Hagglund, K. (2001). Ester Boman, Tyringe, Helpension och teatern 1909–1936, Ph.D. thesis, University of Stockholm. Heathcote, D. (1972). Drama as challenge. In J. Hodgson (Ed.), Uses of drama (pp. 156–165). London: Eyre Methuen. Heathcote, D. (2005). Chamber theatre: A bridge worth the forging. The Journal for Drama in Education, 21(2), 7–17.

Bolton

Heathcote, D., & Bolton, G. (1995). Drama for learning: Dorothy heathcote’s mantle of the expert approach to education. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Hornbrook, D. (1991). Education as dramatic art. Oxford: Blackwell. Isaacs, S. (1932). Children we teach: Seven to eleven years. London: University of London Press. Jackson, T. (Ed.), (1980). Learning through theatre: Essays and casebooks on theatre in education. Manchester, NH: Manchester University Press. Jaques-Dalcroze, E. (1921). Rhythm, music and education (H. F. Rubenstein, Trans.). London: Chatto & Windus. Johnstone, K. (1979). Impro: Improvisation and the theatre. London: Methuen. Kelin, A. (2005). To feel as our ancestors did: Collecting and performing oral histories. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Keyworth, L., & Pugh, K. (2003). Theatre for development in Malawi. Research in Drama Education, 8(1), 82–87. Laban, R. (1948). Modern educational dance. London: Macdonald & Evans. Landy, R. (1986). Drama therapy. Springfield ILL: Charles C. Thomas. Lee, J. (1915). Play in education. New York: MacMillan. Lewiki, T. (1995). Theatre/Drama in the United Kingdom, Italy and Poland. Unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Durham, UK, vol. 1, 257. Lyndersay, D. (2005). From stage to street: Fourth world theatre in the Caribbean, IDEA’S Electronic Journal. Machulska, H. (1993). Drama prowadzona przez Dorothy Heathcote. Drama: Poadnik dla nauczycieli I wychowawacow, 6, 12–14. Maschler, T. (Ed.), (1957). Declaration. London: MacGibbon and Kee. Maslow, H. (1954). Motivation and personality. New York: Harper. McCaslin, N. (1984). Creative Drama in the Classroom. London: Longmans. Miller, C., & Saxton, J. (Eds.). (1999) International conversations. Toronto: International Drama in Education Research Institute. Morgan, N., & Saxton, J. (1991). Teaching, questioning and learning. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Moreno, L. (1946). Psychodrama. New York: Beacon House. Nicholson, H. (1995). Genre, gender and play: Feminist theory and drama education. New Paradigms in Drama Education N.A.D.I.E. Journal, 19(2), 15–24. O’Farrell, L. (2002). A greeting from the President, International Drama/Theatre Associaion Newsletter1, 1–2. O’Neill, C. (1995). Drama worlds: A framework for process drama. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. O’Toole, J. (1976). Theatre in education. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Perez, B. (1886). Les Trois Premières Anneés (F. Alcan, Ed.) (3rd ed.). Paris: Ancien Libraire GermerBailliere et Co., pp. 325–328. Prentki, T. (2003). Save the children – Change the world. Research in Drama Education, 8(1), 39–53. Rogers, C. (1961). On becoming a person. New York: Constable. Saldanˇa, J. (1995). Drama of color: Improvisation with multiethnic folklore. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Saldanˇa, J. (1997). Survival: A white teacher’s conception of drama with inner-city hispanic youth. Youth Theatre Journal, 11, 25–46. Saldanˇa, J. (2005). Theatre of the oppressed with children: A field experiment. Youth Theatre Journal, 19, 117–133. San, I. (1998). The development of drama education in Turkey. Research in Drama Education, 3(1), 96–99. Schonmann, S. (2001). Quest for peace: Some reservations on peace education via drama. Drama Australia Journal: Selected Papers IDEA 2001, 2, 15–26. Slade, P. (1954). Child drama. London: University of London Press. Slade, P. (1968). Experience of spontaneity. London: Longman. Slade, P. (1977). Natural dance. London: Hodder & Stoughton. Slavik, M. (1996). Cesta k Divadeinimi tvaru s detskym kolektivem. Prague: Artama. Spolin, V. (1963). Improvisation for the theatre. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Sully, J. (1896). Studies of childhood. London: Longman.

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Swortzel, L. (1997). Theatre for young audiences: Around the world in 21 plays. New York and London: Applause. Taylor, P. (Ed.). (1995). New paradigms in drama education. National Association for Drama Education Journal (Australia,) 19, 2. Taylor, P. (2003). Applied theatre. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Tennyson, V. P. (1999). Drama activities at the Ethical Culture School 1878–1930. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Arizona State University, U.S.A. Thompson, J. (2001). Making a break for it: Discourse and theatre in prisons. Applied Theatre Research, 2(5). Tomkinson, W. S. (1921). The teaching of English. London: Oxford University Press. Wagner, B. J. (1976). Dorothy Heathcote: Drama as a learning medium. Washington: National Education Association. Ward, W. (1930). Creative dramatics. New York & London: D. Appleton & Co. Warner, C. (2004). On beyond word problems. Education international, 1, 49–57. Way, B. (1967). Development through drama. London: Longman.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 4.1 Namibia

Minette Mans Windhoek, Namibia

Africa has a rich and colorful heritage of dramatic rituals, with action, dance, costume and masks, but drama in formal education has been neglected. Anthropologists have collected much information on the educational use of stories and chantefables to act out the values, conflicts, histories and origins of the people. Meaningful gestures which show respect, for example, became formalized and symbolic in dance and art. Masks, pantomime and puppets served as metaphors for the dramatic moments in life. Griots (jaliya) enacted and sang the epics. By contrast, schools in southern African countries generally base their drama education on Western models (see main chapter), emulating the approaches of Slade, Heathcote and Bolton. Educational surveys show that drama teachers are generally educated in the same approaches, but for purposes of community theater also study and practise Boal’s “Theatre of the Oppressed”, while others demonstrate the influence of Marx, Brecht and Fanon. While the “real” world of theater has been occupied by theater of resistance and protest – consider playwrights Ngugi wa Thi’ongo, Wole Soyinka, Zakes Mda, Athol Fugard who acted as the conscience of their societies – these plays were often only performed outside their original protest site. Considering their main purpose being to raise social and political awareness, questions have to be raised concerning their efficacy as theater of resistance in foreign locations (Graver 1999). To date, few studies have investigated the pedagogical implications of the thriving postcolonial African theater of resistance. The integrated arts approaches of formal education in Namibia and South Africa neglect in-depth drama education, and pay little attention to the philosophies and values embedded in traditional practices. Currently theater for development predominates, and CESO’s (Centre for the Study of Education) study of the use of theater for social change in Africa, Asia, and Latin America (Epskamp 1992) described promising use of traditional practices in Zambia and Namibia. Ever-growing numbers of community theater groups perform to raise awareness of a wide range of social issues such as AIDS, violence against women and children, and ecological degradation. Traditions of African drama remain neglected, and although Zeeman and 63 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 63–64. © 2007 Springer.

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King (2002) compiled a manual for teachers using African examples, they retained the philosophical framework of the West. Recent drama research, for example, in a South African AIDS awareness research project, used a popular television drama series Tsha Tsha to develop quantitative and qualitative research methods to measure processes of identification with characters. The findings were used in the development of a subsequent educational series that encourages problem-solving, development of solutions, and becoming “active agents in crafting the circ*mstances of their lives” (Parker, Ntlabati, & Hajiyiannis 2005, p. 1). A randomized community intervention trial investigated AIDS awareness drama-ineducation programs in South Africa (Harvey, Stuart, & Swan, 2000), and a similar study on a radio soap in Zambia (Yoder, Hornik, & Chirwa, 1996), show that the use of drama proved more effective in changing attitudes and knowledge than programs without drama. Recent developments of the Southern African Theatre Initiative (Zeeman, 2005) have for the first time proposed an action plan for theaters, community theater, universities and schools to be implemented in the South African Development Community (SADC) region. This promises to delve into indigenous forms of knowledge to inform drama education.

References Epskamp, K. (1992). Learning by performing arts: From indigenous to endogenous cultural development. CESO Paperback no. 16. The Hague: Centre for the Study of Education in Developing Countries. Graver, D. (Ed.).(1999). Drama for a new South Africa: Seven plays. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Harvey, B., Stuart, J., & Swan, T. (2000). Evaluation of a drama-in-education programme to increase AIDS awareness in South African high schools. International Journal of STD and AIDS. Retrieved 20/08/05 from http://www.ncbi.nlm.gov/ Parker, W., Ntlabati, P., & Hajiyiannis, H. (2005). Television drama and audience identification: Experiences from Tsha Tsha. Centre for AIDS Development Research and Evaluation. Retrieved 08/08/05 from www.cadre.org.za/tshatsha.htm Yoder, Hornik., & Chirwa (1996). Retrieved 22/08/05 from http://www.unicef.org/evaldatabase/ ZAM_96.800.pdf Zeeman, T., & King, J. (2002). Action! An introductory drama manual. Windhoek: New Namibia Books. Zeeman, T. (2005). Finding feet conference: Theatre education and training in the SADC Region. A report on the Southern African Theatre Initiative Conference, Windhoek 11–15 May, 2003. Windhoek: New Namibia Books.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 4.2 Reflections from an Israeli Point of View

Shifra Schonmann University of Haifa, Israel

While reading Gavin Bolton’s chapter, A History of Drama Education – a Search for Substance, I realized once again how writing such an historical account is a problematic task. This is not only because of all the obstacles that Bolton mentioned but even when concentrating on trying to untangle the confused strands of classroom drama that he presents, there still remains an inherent problem in writing the history. Two historically important parallel processes have occurred in Israel in recent years: mass immigration both from the former Soviet Union and from Ethiopia as well as an unending war for peace with the Palestinians. The tense political situation over the last decade has contributed to the notion that education, politics and ethics are all issues which cannot be separated from each other (Schonmann, 2004; Urian, 1990). The challenges confronting the Israeli educational system are intense and need imagination and powerful ideas. Forum Theatre; Applied Theatre; Process Drama are all powerful perceptions of theatrical work in use. Experiments in drama education as described in Bolton’s historical account have been tried in different parts of the world; and they include Israel in which these ideas have been found extremely useful to a society living on the edge (Schonmann & Hardoff, 2000). Drama education, as a field of knowledge, develops very slowly a culture in which practitioners and scholars want to discover its origins, its people and their ideas. It is worth mentioning that Judaism rejected the theater for 4,000 years. The first encounter between Judaism and the theater took place in the Greek and Roman period and Judaism developed a feeling of deep revulsion for this form of art. The “religious elders” (Ha’zal) connected theater to paganism and clowns. It was conceptualized as an expression of debauchery: the antithesis to religious education. In the eighteenth century with the diminishing power of religion, Jewish theater began to develop – but only on a very small scale. The original lack of theater in Judaism placed the teaching of theater in the Israeli education system in a special light. Literature, music, and even painting were adopted by Judaism, but the theater was without tradition and therefore when the Israeli education system opened its gates to teaching theater it was necessary to borrow from world culture and experience. 65 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 65–66. © 2007 Springer.

Schonmann

The history of educational drama is inextricably bound up with the Progressive Educational Movement. While the development of drama/theater in education in Israel is, in essence, part of the above trend, the major difference is to be found in the short history of the State of Israel. Israel was established as a state only in 1948 and, due to economic hardships and lack of awareness in the first decades, very little was done in the area of drama education. Only in the 1970s did institutional interest in teaching drama/theater begin. Academic institutions, such as universities and colleges, began to open theater teacher training departments but, in those days, almost no research took place and there was very little academic writing on that subject. Then, in the 1980s, a considerable growth of theater teaching occurred due to an awakening in the arts and in education, and the first research projects began to appear. Today, drama education is discussed with great interest, and reflects how much the theater as an area of both teaching and learning is needed although much of its substance is still unclear. In the Jewish schools, more and more attention is being paid to drama education (Feingold, 1996). We need to remind ourselves that although drama education is now being viewed as a multilevel discourse, the true appeal and beauty of drama – theater in education lies in its power to create an alluring magic of theater and drama as artistic and aesthetic ways of expressing the human mind and spirit. From this point of view, historical developments can be examined in telling the stories of our professional practice. Involved in historical research, each drama/theater scholar needs to listen to the stories that are told. Only then, can he or she continue by narrating a substantive drama/theater story. A search for substance should include therefore more research into drama education history. Meanings that can be extracted from history can serve as important elements to open the horizons of the field.

References Feingold, B.-A. (1996). Why Study Drama? Theatre and Education. Tel Aviv: Eitav Publishing (in Hebrew). Schonmann, S. (2004). Ethical tensions in drama teachers’ behavior. Applied Theatre Research Journal, 5, 11–21. Schonmann, S., & Hardoff, D. (2000). Exploring new possibilities and the limits of theatre education: A role-play project with adolescent actors to improve physicians’ communication skills. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 16(1), 134–151. Urian, D. (1990). The Arab in Israeli Theatre. Tel Aviv: Or Am (in Hebrew).

5 THE TEACHING AND LEARNING OF MUSIC IN THE SETTINGS OF FAMILY, CHURCH, AND SCHOOL: SOME HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES Gordon Cox University of Reading, U.K.

Historians have long recognized that “education” is not to be simply equated with “schooling,” if by that is meant what is transacted in the formal institution called “school” (Charlton, 1988). Two other social institutions in particular challenge modern mass schooling in terms of their significance for an understanding of the history of education: the church and the family (McCulloch, 2005). Both long predate the school in Western society. The relative influence of these three educational agencies (family, church, and school) on the teaching and learning of music is the subject of this chapter. My purpose is to provide an annotated commentary which assembles a range of research undertaken by music educators,1 ethnographers, folklorists, and historians of education. In order to keep the study within the bounds of possibility I have drawn my examples for the most part from the western hemisphere. Underpinning this account are three central concerns I have about historical research in music education (see Cox, 2002b): Research should be responsive to the social, historical, ideological, and cultural contexts in which the learning and the teaching of music take place; due attention should be paid to the actual teaching and learning of music; and music education should be viewed as an essentially broad area of activity, encompassing both formal and informal settings. I shall relate my commentary to these concerns in the conclusion to the chapter.

Music in the Family The family is the most permanent and immediate educational unit (Aldrich, 1982). For centuries in this context children have learned the first essential social, economic and cultural skills, including music. I have selected examples from a range of settings in order to illustrate the family’s pervasive influence, for good or ill, on the transfer of musical culture from one generation to the next. I present these examples chronologically. *

* * 67

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Through the work of the English historian, Nicholas Orme (2003), we learn something of music and medieval family life in England, in particular related to royalty and the aristocracy as many of their records survive. Music was a courtly activity par excellence, and played a major part in English aristocratic life. Boys and girls of wealthy families were taught to play instruments as part of their education. Small boys might have drums, like Thomas and Edmund, the youngest sons of Edward 1 in 1306 when they were aged about four and five. Harp-strings were bought for Henry V in 1397 when he was ten, and all the surviving children of Henry VII appear to have learnt the lute. The arrangements for the education of Edward V in 1473 demonstrate music’s importance for this privileged group. Mass was said every day in his household “by note with children,” in other words with polyphonic accompaniment. The noble boys who were with him were ordered to be specifically trained in music along with other “exercises of humanity” (Orme, 1984). Rainbow (1989) points out that with the dissolution of the monasteries and song schools associated with protestant reform in England, between 1536 and 1542, the formal teaching of music in schools was eclipsed and the concept of the domestic music lesson gained favor. He notes that John Day’s metrical psalter (1562) was an early attempt to provide “self-instruction,” and in the following year Day’s Whole Psalmes in Foure Parts (1563) contains a woodcut illustration of a staid father teaching his assembled family the Guidonian Hand (a visual aid to assist in memorising the sequence of note names called the Gamut). By the eighteenth century, most courtesy and conduct writers in England favored the musical education of well-born girls who had a lot of time on their hands, which it was the duty of their parents to fill. In the innovative work of Richard Leppert (1988) on the teaching of music to upper-class amateurs in eighteenth-century Britain, based on the evidence of the portraiture of the time, it appears that music was routinely viewed by parents as an asset to their daughters’ matrimonial stock. But their daughters’ music making had to be passive and within the private confines of family and friends. The music lessons took place within the home, to which the music master came. Apparently, however, women generally abandoned music on marriage: “In some instances women rebelled against music in the recognition that its function in their lives was the re-enactment of oppression” (p. 45). Continuing with the theme of musical oppression but in radically contrasting social circ*mstances, John Zucchi (1999) documented the case in the nineteenth century of “the little slaves of the harp” in which child musicians, uprooted from their villages in central and southern Italy, were taken as virtual slaves to Paris, London, and New York to perform as barrel-organists, harpists, violinists, fifers, pipers, and animal exhibitors. The children were part of the family economy back in Italy, and in times of severe economic fluctuation they contributed to the family’s goal of preserving its position, with the father signing a contract with the padrone entrusting the child to the latter person for three years, in which time the child would be taught the harp, have an instrument provided, as well as being clothed, fed, and cared for. However, in practice the children were virtual slaves enduring appalling living conditions and cruelty. Their welfare gave rise to much controversy in their new urban settings.

Historical Perspectives

The Italian case was not typical however of the musical socialization of young people within small-scale rural communities in the early twentieth century in England and the United States. As far as the transmission of traditional songs from one generation to another in rural New England was concerned, in the study by Jennifer Post (2004) based on a sampling of recordings made between 1924 and 1960, the most important sources for the songs were family members including parents, grandparents, and siblings, particularly brothers. Song repertoires represented “the web of contacts that bind family traditions together” (Post, 2004, p. 150). We can observe some of these features of music transmission in family settings within the traditional song communities that Gillian Dunn (1980) investigated in East Suffolk, England. The majority of her informants had been born around the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Most of them believed in the principle of “song ownership”: that certain songs belonged to certain singers. Frequently song inheritance operated within the family structure. A singing family had its own collective repertoire. At home, song ownership was suspended in order to allow the transmission of song inheritance. Once children knew the songs, ownership was endowed by their place in that singing family (for recorded examples of such a singing family in the English tradition see the CD, The Copper Family of Rottingdean (2001)). Teaching in small-scale rural communities was rarely formal, it was mostly through imitation, as in this reminiscence, recorded by the folklorist, Gerald Thomas (1993), of the French Newfoundland fiddler and storyteller, Emile Benoit (b. 1913–1992) whose uncle had reconstructed a primitive fiddle for his nephew: I didn’t know where to put de fingers for to bring in … so I said “You show me how you” … “Now …” I said “I wants de fast, fast reel”. Now he could play dis one “De Devil amongst de Tailors”. So he passed de fiddle, I played it too … So I start. Well I played- all dat afternoon. Played all night didn’t go to bed at all … I played till part of a next day. Nothing to eat, oh I was starved … And after that I had it made (Thomas, 1993, pp. 105–106). In the contrasting urban environment of an English town in the 1980s, the musical influence of the family was clearly apparent to the anthropologist Ruth Finnegan (1989) who undertook an ethnography of music making in Milton Keynes. She found the family crucial in socializing children into a culture. Although musical socialization in this context might well involve electronic media and prerecorded music rather than learning songs at the mother’s knee, Finnegan pointed out that the process was still initiated at home. With the rise of single parent families, unwed parents, gay parents, and remarried parents there is a new complexity which will inevitably affect childhoods, and maybe musical childhoods. Something of this diversity of family structure is evident in Patricia Shehan Campbell’s (1998) close study of the musical lives and influences of fifteen American children, six of whom were in families of divorced or separated parents, several being in households with absent fathers, but sometimes with live-in grandparents. Nevertheless she confirmed that the great musical unifier of this disparate group

Cox

was still their families, of whatever pattern. They exerted a pervasive influence on their children’s musical thoughts and choices. *

In these accounts it is clear that the family has had a key role to play in providing a space for music practice, supplying the necessary resources, and informally transmitting a musical tradition. However, we should beware of an unduly rosy picture of family life and heed Mintz’s (2004) observation that throughout American history family stability has been the exception rather than the norm. Whether the musical role of the family is confining or liberating depends no doubt on the prevailing social mores (attitudes toward women and musical accomplishment, for example), power structures (the “little slaves of the harp”), and the strength of the family’s traditions.

The Church Christianity has always been an educational system with Christ as the divine master who commanded his disciples to go forth and teach all nations (Cremin, 1970). Historians have paid particular attention to the influence of the church, whether protestant or catholic, on the teaching and learning of music (see especially Barbier, 2003, on Vivaldi and the Counter-Reformation, and Butt, 1994, on Lutheranism and music education). In this section I shall focus on three settings in order to convey some of the potential richness of this area of research for music education historians: medieval song schools in the west of England, the missionary work of the Catholic Church with native peoples from Latin America, and the American Singing Schools. *

The Judaeo-Christian tradition of psalm and hymn singing always provided an important medium for worship, and the founding of the Schola Cantorum in Rome in the fourth century ensured firm and lasting connections between music, the liturgy and education. The song schools subsequently set up throughout Europe for the purpose of disseminating Roman church music were to have a permanent effect on the general development of music teaching in educational institutions. Until the Reformation such schools were necessities for all monasteries and cathedrals (Mark & Gary, 1999; Plummeridge, 2001; Rainbow, 1989). But what was life like for choristers in these song schools? I focus upon the work of Nicholas Orme (1976 and 1978), particularly from his detailed study of Education in the West of England 1066–1548. By 1236 Exeter Cathedral maintained and educated fourteen boy choristers. Their duties were twofold: they joined the canons and vicars in the choral services proper, and they also took part in singing antiphons in the worship of the Virgin [there was poignant symbolism in this connection between the idea of the boy as innocent and pure, and the litany of the Blessed Virgin (see Cooper, 1994)]. Their lessons must have centered upon the study of song, and also probably grammar.

Historical Perspectives

We get more information about what these pupils were actually taught by looking at the contracts of the pre-Reformation instructors (Orme, 1976). At Salisbury Cathedral, Thomas Knight was appointed organist and master of the choristers with the duty of teaching them plainsong, pricksong (or notated music), faburden, and descant. Days were long for the choristers of Wells Cathedral. Some had to rise in the night to sing mattins. The rest after rising had to cross themselves and repeat certain prayers while they dressed. The day began with studying plainsong and polyphony before breakfast. Some then went off to choir. In the afternoon the boys had more lessons, returning to the choir for evensong. After evensong came supper, and after supper those who had to sing the next morning’s mattins were heard by the master until they were perfect. It was “a long and heavy day” (Orme, 1976, p. 81). By the mid-sixteenth century the training of choristers was in decline, with the general trend toward the simplification of the liturgy: “choristers … were perhaps never … to enjoy such a full part in the Christian liturgy again” (Cooper, 1994, p. 274). This link between music and the liturgy was used throughout the sixteenth century as a valuable tool in the cultural encounters and explorations of the Americas. With the Hispanic conquest of America came missionary schools, legitimizing the conquest, and the Spanish found similarities between their own musical practices and those of the indigenous peoples (Mark & Gary, 1999). Aguilar, Ramsey, and Lumsden (2002) point out that the hierarchy of indigenous musicians corresponded exactly with that found in Spanish cathedrals. Gradually the indigenous came to know their chants from memory, and the friars taught them to draw lines on paper, and write music notation. The friars created libraries of religious music copying books, and the most privileged indigenous promoted the European musical culture, and even small isolated communities established polyphonic choirs, and began to compose their own music in the European style (also see: de Couve, Pino, & Frega, 1997; 2004; for a reconstruction of the repertoire see the CD, Bolivian Baroque, 2004). The following report makes clear the extent to which music became a central plank in the christianizing process of the Indians: The natural inclination to harmony that those people have is incredible … They also have admirable skill for the music of the voices, and of musical instruments … Therefore the wise missionaries are in the habit of choosing those boys who, from an early age, show the best voice timbre and through education make them into musical experts who understand notes and tempo to the point where their sacred music pleases and delights no less than European music. (Muratori, 1743, in Nawrot, 2004, p. 14) Such work we might characterize as “music education for religious conversion” (Mark, 2002, p. 30). My final example of the influence of the church on music education is the singing school tradition in America. Buechner (2003) has provided the definitive history of Yankee Singing Schools 1760–1800, and he emphasizes that the development has to be seen in the context of the first great wave of religious revivalism in the 1740s known in America as the Great Awakening, associated with which was a great deal of singing.

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In time as interest in revivalism waned, the singing school came to be recognized as the proper means for improving church congregational music. The influence of the singing school persisted into the twentieth century particularly in the South where the development of shape notes (which altered the shapes of notes to conform to the syllables involved) formed the basis for a vigorous singing tradition. The following reminiscence from the bluegrass musician, Charlie Monroe relates to his experience of participating in singing schools in the early years of the twentieth century growing up in Kentucky, and provides us with a vivid oral account of teaching method: Well, they’d have this singing school teacher to come in there and everybody that wanted to learn about shape notes, the timing of music and the rudiments of music, would come and take part. And that singing school teacher he would put the notes up on a board for you, shape notes they called them, and then he’d teach you the names of one of these notes and the sounds of them … and he would teach the singing school, say in Rosine, then he would lead that singing class at the singing convention, then his job was over. (Transcribed by Gordon Cox from the CD Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys, 1993) One religious denomination in particular, the Church of God, employed the singing schools with considerable effect in its work with thousands of poor whites in Alabama (see Martin, 1999). The singing schools were held nightly for a one- or two-week period during times when farming activities were minimal. The final service (which was an informal graduation) often featured a choir of the best students, sight-singing songs they did not know prior to their lessons. The singing school movement consitituted the first formal system of mass education in the American colonies (Mark & Gary, 1999). *

Uncovering the mosaic of beliefs concerning the relationships among music, religion, and education prompts numerous questions concerning possible connections with the histories of Christianity, childhood, pedagogy, colonialism, and religious conversion. A more fundamental, and difficult task for historians, is to discern the links for musical learners and musical participants between religious and musical experience, both involving a combination of intellectual and emotional engagement, hard to translate into words. This might lead to a greater historical understanding of “musical participation as a source of spiritual fulfilment and pleasure” (Pitts, 2005, p. 144), and thus present some way forward in interpreting the significance of the relationship between the two modes of experience in the lives of musical learners.

Compulsory Mass Schooling In the eighteenth century, mass schooling emerged in the northern American colonies, Norway, some Swiss cantons, most provinces of the Netherlands, and various German

Historical Perspectives

states (Ramirez & Boli, 1994). Family-directed socialization was rejected in favor of more systematic education in a differentiated social institution. There was also a gradual transfer of educational power from the church to the state, although this was a more complex process than simply the changing of the guard (see Miller & Davey, 2005). Finally, in the nineteenth century, compulsory mass schooling was introduced. The link between the state and compulsory schooling became apparent, as it was the state that had the authority to make schooling compulsory. My examples have been chosen to illustrate what was actually going on musically in schools and classrooms based on the evidence of four observers: an American music educator visiting European schools in 1847, a British schools inspector reporting on individual institutions between 1922 and 1929, and an American ethnographer and a British anthropologist presenting accounts of music in late twentieth-century schools. To complete the picture, I shall discuss some studies dealing with the links between the state and music in schools. *

William Batchelor Bradbury (1816–1868) was one of a number of American travelers intent on observing what went on in the music classrooms of nineteenth-century Europe (Karpf, 2000). He was a significant contributor to the groundswell of interest in music education in the United States during the nineteenth century. In July 1847 he sailed for Europe and spent several weeks in Switzerland, and 18 months in Germany. He wrote up his observations in a series of 23 articles published in the New York Evangelist. They provide us with vivid accounts of good practice. Bradbury was particularly impressed by his visit to the state supported Burger Schulen in Leipzig where vocal music was an integral part of the curriculum in all grades. The youngest students (aged 6 to 8) retained the same teacher for all subjects, but music specialists taught older children. Bradbury observed that the youngest students “sing entirely by ear. These [students] … have their [own] little music books, and some of the musical characters are generally explained to them during the lesson. No children are allowed to study the elementary principles of music until they can sing well by ear and readily distinguish musical intervals” (Karpf, 2002, p. 15). With a class of 11 year-olds each child was provided with a little “Choral[e] Book” containing upwards of a hundred chorales. The teacher gave out the number of the chorale to be studied, and questioned the pupils about the key, the scale and its letters and the chord of the key. They then proceeded to sing the scale, and the chorale, first from letters, then with the words. After that children then turned to the “Juvenile Singing Book” to sing social, moral and patriotic songs. What impressed Bradbury was that there was equal emphasis upon the cultivation of the musical ear and on the understanding of the voice. In Berne, Bradbury encountered at the Young Ladies Institution a noteworthy teacher, Herr Frolich, who had a strict analytical method of teaching the pupils of his highest class which bore considerable fruit: A new piece of music … is usually taken as the basis of the instruction that follows … In fact, so interested do the young ladies become in their study that they

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commence at once composing music suited to the spirit of the words … the pupils seek for a knowledge of the laws of harmony and thorough-base (sic). (p. 26) In the first quarter of the twentieth century in England and Wales Arthur Somervell (1863–1937) was the music specialist in His Majesty’s Inspectorate of Schools (HMI), and it was part of his job to inspect the teaching of music (see Cox, 2003). In that sense his reports could not merely focus upon good practice, and so they provide useful evidence for what was going on in classrooms. Such reports, we should bear in mind, were symptomatic of the state’s desire to gather information, and to exercise control (Miller & Davey, 2005). I shall focus on Somervell’s music inspections of twenty-four secondary schools which he visited between 1922 and 1929 (see Cox, 1993). His reports deal with the traditional concerns of ear training, sight singing and singing, the rise of music appreciation, and of “extra-curricular” work and of time table allocation. No matter how excellent the singing, there would be a firm reprimand if ear training was not developed. Intelligent use of tonic sol-fa was the key. Moreover, competence in tonic sol-fa led to more effective sight reading and consequently to a more extensive repertory of songs. In the allocation of time for the teaching of music there was considerable disparity. Some schools took the subject all the way through, others used the boy’s “breaking voice” as an excuse to phase out music. More encouragingly Somervell found a burgeoning interest in “extra-curricular” activities: a fairly unique example was at Christ’s Hospital School where there were 54 in the orchestra, and in total 213 boys learnt a musical instrument. Over 50 years later this “extra-curricular” aspect of music teaching had become firmly established, as Ruth Finnegan (1989) demonstrated in her report on music in schools in Milton Keynes. In the 46 schools responding to her survey in 1982 she counted 72 recorder groups, 33 choirs, 19 orchestral and similar groups, 14 guitar groups, 5 wind bands, 3 jazz groups, together with 1 each of a barber shop group, brass band, rock shop, dance band, Gilbert and Sullivan group, and folk group – 158 in all. She found around 10 to 15 percent of participation in voluntary self-chosen extracurricular musical activity. Finnegan’s conclusions were that schools were more than just channels to lay the proper foundations of musical participation: they are themselves organized centers of music – a real part of local musical practice. Whereas it was Somervell’s task to reach some qualitative judgment about the schools he was inspecting, 60 years later, between 1987 and 1990 it was the task of a group of educational researchers in the United States to portray “the ordinary problems” of teachers teaching the arts in selected elementary schools: it was Liora Bresler (1991) who reported on music teaching in two elementary schools in Danville, Illinois. She observed that the balance of general musical skills, appreciation, and history varied widely from one teacher to another. Intriguingly she found that teacher practices and beliefs were reminiscent of the practice of the beginning of music in the United States in the first half of the nineteenth century, with music seen as the product of the people, the common man, rather than the product of a cultural elite. The central aim was still to read music and to sing acceptably. Worryingly what Bresler identified as

Historical Perspectives

the heart of the curriculum (playing an instrument or singing) was not formally assessed. Instead assessment was applied to the secondary activities of history and appreciation. Music was a victim of pressure from “academic” subjects, partly because it did not contribute to measured achievement. As to “the people high above” music was regarded as the lowest priority on their list. *

Through this selective account of specific schools it is clear that singing became part of compulsory education in most countries in Europe. There was an age-related plan leading from singing by ear to singing at sight, often in different parts. From the twentieth century, whilst there is evidence of some new ideas, there is a reliance (for good or ill) on the traditional aims in music teaching, targeted upon “the common man.” It is salutary to note that composing in the classroom (thought of as a fairly contemporary innovation) was a feature of the music curriculum in a school in Berne in the 1840s. Other observations from these accounts contain many themes familiar to music educators in their day-to-day work, including the question of music for the majority vs. music for the few, inappropriate assessment and a somewhat lowly status for the subject. More optimistically there appeared to be a growing demand for extra-curricular musical activities focusing upon musical performance. *

Mass schooling by its very nature was inclusive, and it developed a standardized curriculum. The power to influence the curriculum, to select text books, and to inaugurate innovative programs depends ultimately on political strength. Wai-Chung Ho’s paper (2000) on the political influences on curriculum content and musical meaning in Hong Kong secondary music education 1949–1997 is an intriguing case study. Over the course of three decades (1950–1980) a particular political construction framed the development of music education in Hong Kong: an explicitly apolitical Western style of musical knowledge, but with an implicitly political purpose of controlling the content of musical knowledge. Prior to the 1980s depoliticization and de-Sinification characterized music education in Hong Kong. It perpetuated the social and cultural hegemony of traditional Western art music. But while ostensibly promoting diverse political cultures in the two “systems” scheme, Hong Kong music education remained ideologically in the European camp, and this conflicted with Chinese traditional cultures, and the socio-political values of the Peoples’ Republic. Thus music educators found themselves attempting to achieve a precarious balance. Such interactions with historical and contemporary policy have the potential to create a dialogue between research and practice. Other examples include Gammon’s (1999) paper on the cultural politics of the English National Music Curriculum between 1991 and 1992, and Hargreaves and North’s book Musical Development and Learning (2001) on international perspectives of music education, including some historical information on government policy which impacts upon the teaching of music in schools.

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Conclusion I will conclude by considering my three central concerns outlined in the introduction: ●

That research should be responsive to the social, historical, ideological, and cultural contexts in which the teaching and learning of music take place.

Each of the three educational settings I have explored has contained its own complexities and linkages. The changing nature of the family has been mirrored in the musical upbringing of members of the medieval English royal family, the musical education of upper-class females in eighteenth-century Britain, the musical exploitation of Italian child musicians in the nineteenth century, and the musical socialization of children within rural and urban settings in twentieth-century England and North America. The church has been the site of bitterly fought ideological conflicts, particularly with the Reformation which in England threatened the central musical role of children in the liturgy. Tensions were inevitably present in the Spanish missionaries’ use of music education for the religious conversion of indigenous peoples in Bolivia, involving notions of what constituted being “civilized” and “uncivilized”. Finally, the introduction of mass schooling in the nineteenth century by the state, taking over some of the educational functions of the family and the church, carried with it dangers for music, either for being used as a tool of government cultural policy (as in Hong Kong) or of being marginalized as a curriculum subject, low down in government priorities. ●

That due attention should be paid to the actual teaching and learning of music

Within the medieval church it was boys who were privileged under the guidance of an instructor to uncover the mysteries of musical notation in relation to their singing of plainsong and polyphony. These same mysteries became available for a wider spectrum of the population through the Spanish missionaries’ work with native peoples, and through the singing schools of America whose use of the shape note system particularly in the South became a valuable teaching aid. The music curriculum in nineteenth-century schools in Europe was also driven by the priority given to learning to sing by sight, using a variety of methods including tonic sol-fa (though the early use of classroom composition in Berne needs to be remembered). Gradually the curriculum increased in scope, although we should not fall into the trap of regarding this pedagogical history as a narrative of continuous progress. Whilst the mastery of notation played a large part in the teaching of music in churches and schools, we should remember that musical socialization within the families in rural Anglo-American communities focused upon an oral tradition, teaching through imitation and example, so that some children grew up inheriting song repertoires of considerable diversity. ●

That music education should be regarded as an essentially broad area of activity

I have adopted a broad definition of music education as the basis of this chapter: It comprises all deliberate efforts to pass music from one generation to another (Lee, 1991). I have investigated both formal and informal instruction, state-sponsored education, and music education outside the aegis of the state, the learning and teaching of music by ordinary people in unstructured settings, as well as that undertaken by

Historical Perspectives

specialists in structured settings. Musical breadth has also mirrored contextual breadth, encompassing a variety of musical genres from plainsong and medieval polyphony to American Country Music. Finally it is my contention that such an expansive historical approach can enable researchers to more fully comprehend music’s unique space within cultures, illuminating for us the process of cultural transmission, whether referring to young people, immigrants, women, or the “invisible realities” of families, and the formal settings of churches and schools. In such ways we can encounter the past in the present, and thus deepen our own understanding of the educative power of music.

Acknowledgments I am indebted to my colleagues Nicholas Bannan, Kevin Brehony, and Stephanie Pitts for commenting critically upon previous drafts of this chapter.

Note 1. Research in the history of music education has its roots in a substantial body of classic histories published during the twentieth century in the United Kingdom (see Rainbow, 1967, 1989, 1990; Scholes, 1947; Simpson, 1967), and in the United States (see Birge, 1928; Britton, 1950, 1989; Keene, 1982; Mark, 1978; Mark & Gary, 1999; Sunderman, 1971; Tellstrom 1971). Outside the United States, moreover a significant number of books have been published since 1990 that have sought to uncover and reconstruct the history of music education and learning in different countries, including Canada (Green & Vogan, 1991), Germany (Gruhn, 2003), Great Britain (Cox, 1993, 2002a; Pitts, 2000; Rainbow with Cox, 2006), and Ireland (McCarthy, 1999a). Most recently McCarthy (2004) has published her history of the International Society of Music Education. Moreover for over 20 years, researchers have been nurtured by the pioneering efforts of the late George Heller, the founding editor of The Bulletin of Historical Research in Music Education (see McCarthy, 1999b). In 2000 the Bulletin was renamed the Journal of Historical Research in Music Education and it was edited by Jere Humpheys from 1999 to 2003, and since then by Mark Fonder. In the United Kingdom the publication of Classic Texts in Music Education initiated and edited by the late Bernarr Rainbow has been another invaluable resource.

References Aguilar, B., Ramsey, D., & B. Lumsden. (2002). The aztec empire and the Spanish missions: Early music education in North America. Journal of Historical Research in Music Education, 24(1), 62–82. Aldrich, R. (1982). An introduction to the history of education. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Barbier, P. (2003). Vivaldi’s Venice. London: Souvenir Press. Birge, E. B. (1928). A history of public school music in the United States. Philadelphia, PA: Oliver Ditson. (reprinted 1966 Reston, VA: MENC) Bresler, L. (1991). Washington and Prairie Schools, Danville, Illinois. In R. E. Stake, L. Bresler, & L. Mabry (Eds.), Custom and cherishing: The arts in elementary schools (pp. 55–93). Urbana, IL: University of Illinois. Britton, A. (1950). Theoretical introductions in American tune-books to 1800. Unpublished doctoral dissertation University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. Britton, A. (1989). The how and why of teaching singing schools in eighteenth-century America. Bulletin of the Council of Research in Music Education, 99, 23–41.

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Buechner, A. C. (2003). Yankee singing schools and the golden age of choral music in New England, 1760–1800. Boston, MA: Boston University for The Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife. Butt J. (1994). Music education and the art of performance in the German baroque. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Campbell, P. S. (1998). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives. New York: Oxford University Press. Charlton, K. (1988). “Not publike onely but also private and domestical”: Mothers and familial education in pre-industrial England. History of Education, 17(1), 1–20. Cooper, T. N. (1994). Children, the liturgy, and the reformation: The evidence of the Lichfield cathedral choristers. In D. Wood (Ed.), The Church and Childhood (pp. 261–274). Oxford: Blackwell. Cox, G. (1993). A history of music education in England 1872–1928. Aldershot: Scolar Press. Cox, G. (2002a). Living music in schools 1923–1999: Studies in the history of music education in England. Aldershot: Ashgate. Cox, G. (2002b). Tansforming research in music education history. In R. Colwell & C. Richardson (Eds.), The new handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 696–706). New York: Oxford University Press. Cox, G. (Ed.). (2003). Sir Arthur Somervell on music education: His writings, speeches and letters. Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Classic Texts in Music Education, No. 26. Cremin, L. (1970). American education: The Colonial experience 1607–1783. New York: Harper. De Couve, A. C., Del Pino, C., & Frega, A. L. (1997). An approach to the history of music education in Latin America. Bulletin of Historical Research in Music Education, XIX, 10–39. De Couve, A. C., Del Pino, C., & Frega, A. L. (2004). An approach to the history of music education in Latin America. Part II: Music education 16th–18th centuries. Journal of Historical Research in Music Education, 26(2), 79–95. Dunn, J. (1980). The fellowship of song: Popular singing traditions in East Suffolk. London: Croom Helm. Finnegan, R. (1989). The hidden musicians: Music-making in an English town. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gammon, V. (1999). Cultural Politics of the English National Curriculum for Music, 1991–1992. Journal of Educational Administration and History, 31(2), 130–147. Green, J. P., & Vogan, N. (1991). Music education in Canada: A historical Account. Toronto: University of Toronto. Gruhn, W. (2003). Geschicte der Musikerziehung. Hofheim: Wolke Verlag. Second edition. Hargreaves, D., & North, A. C. (Eds.). (2001). Musical development and learning: The international perspective. London: Continuum. Ho, W.-C. (2000). Political influences on curriculum content and musical meaning: Hong Kong secondary music education 1949–1997. Journal of Historical Research in Music Education, 22(1), 5–24. Karpf, J. (2002). “Would that it were so in America”: William Bradbury’s observations of European music educators, 1847–49, Journal of Historical Research in Music Education, 24(1), 5–38. Keene, J. A. (1982). A history of music education in the United States. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England. Lee, W. (1991). Toward the morphological dimensions of research in the history of music education. In M. McCarthy & B. D. Wlson (Eds.), Music in American Schools 1838–1988 (pp. 114–117). College Park: University of Maryland. Leppert, R. (1988). Music and image: Domesticity, ideology and socio-cultural formation in Eighteenth Century England. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Mark, M. L. (1978). Contemporary music education. New York: Schirmer. Mark, M. L. (Ed.). (2002). Music education: Source readings from ancient Greece to today (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge. Mark, M. L., & Gary, C. L. (1999). A history of American music education (2nd ed.). Reston, VA: Music Educators National Conference. Martin, B.L. (1999). The influence and function of shape notes and singing schools in the twentieth century: An historical study of the Church of God. Journal of Historical Research in Music Education, 21(1), 62–83. McCarthy, M. (1999a). Passing it on: The transmission of music in Irish culture. Cork: University of Cork.

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McCarthy, M. (1999b). The bulletin of historical research in music education: A content analysis of articles in the first twenty volumes. The Bulletin of Historical Research in Music Education, 20(3), 181–202. McCarthy, M. (2004). Toward a global community: The International Society for Music Education 1953–2003. Nedlands, WA: ISME. McCulloch, G. (2005). Introduction: history of education. In G. McCulloch (Ed.), The RoutledgeFalmer reader in history of education (pp. 1–12). London: Routledge. Miller, P., & Davey, I. (2005). Family formation, schooling and the patriarchical state. In G. McCulloch(Ed.) The Routledge Falmer reader in the history of eduction (pp. 83–99). London: Routledge. Mintz, S. (2004). Huck’s raft: A history of American childhood. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press. Nawrot, P. (2004). Baroque music in the Jesuit Reducciones (Settlements), liner notes for Florilegium, Bolivian Baroque: Baroque music from the missions of Chiquitos and Moxos Indians. Channel Classics CCS SA 22105. Orme, N. (1976). Education in the West of England 1066–1548. Exeter: University of Exeter. Orme, N. (1978). The early musicians of Exeter Cathedral, Music and Letters, LIX, 395–410. Orme, N. (1984). From Childhood to Chivalry: The education of the English kings and aristocracy 1066–1530. London: Methuen. Orme, N. (2003). Medieval children. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Pitts, S. E. (2000). A century of change in music education: Historical perspectives on contemporary practice in British secondary school music. Aldershot: Ashgate. Pitts, S. E. (2005). Valuing musical participation. Aldershot: Ashgate. Plummeridge, C. (2001). Music in schools. In S. Sadie & J. Tyrrell (Eds.), The new Grove dictionary of music and musicians (2nd ed.). London: MacMillan. Post, J. C. (2004). Music in rural New England: Family and community life, 1870–1940. Hanover: University Press of New England. Rainbow, B. (1967). The land without music: Musical education in England 1800–1860 and its continental antecedents. London: Novello. Rainbow, B. (1989). Music in educational thought and practice: A Survey from 800 BC. Aberystwyth: Boethius. Rainbow, B. (1990). Music and the English public school. Aberystwyth, Wales: Boethius Press. Rainbow, B., & Cox, G. (2006). Music in educational thought and practice: A survey from 800 BC (2nd ed.). Woodbridge: The Boydell Press. Ramirez, F. O., & Boli, J. (1994). The political institutionalization of compulsory education: The rise of schooling in the Western cultural context. In J. A. Mangan (Ed.), A significant social revolution: CrossCultural aspects of the evolution of compulsory education (pp. 1–20). London: The Woburn Press. Scholes, P. (1947). The mirror of music 1844–1944: A century of musical life in Britain as reflected in the pages of the Musical Times. London: Novello and Oxford University Press. Simpson, K. (1967). Some great music educators: A collection of essays. London: Novello. Sunderman, L. F. (1971). Historical foundations of music education in the United States. Metuchen, NJ: The Scarecrow Press. Tellstrom, A. T. (1971). Music in American education, past and present. New York: Holt, Rhinehart & Winston. Thomas, G. (1993). The two traditions: The art of storytelling amongst French Newfoundlanders. St. John’s, Newfoundland: Breakwater Press. Zucchi, J. E. (1999). The little slaves of the harp: Italian child street musicians in nineteenth-century Paris, London, and New York. Liverpool: University of Liverpool.

Discography Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys: Live Recordings 1959–1969. Off the Record. Vol. 1. Washington: Smithsonian Folkways 9307-40063-2, 1993. Bolivian Baroque: Baroque music from the missions of Chiquitos and Moxos Indians. Channel Classics CCS SA 22105, 2004. The Copper Family of Rottingdean: Come Write Me Down. London: Topic Records, TSCD534, 2001.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 5.1 Germany

Wilfried Gruhn University of Freiburg, Germany

From the centuries B.C. up to the end of the Middle Ages music in almost all European countries fulfilled either a clear public (political) purpose for ceremonies, parades, battles, etc. or a religious function in church services and rituals. Instrumental skills of court and military musicians were not taught formally but as a craft by practice. That is because music in ancient times was always seen as usus (practical use), not as ars (art form). Apart from church music, very little is known about the musical practices of the medieval joglars (lat.: joculatores, itinerant musicians and jugglers) and their training, as well as fiddlers and minstrels. Although Plato had highlighted the ethical function of the Greek modes to strengthen the spirit of the youth, in medieval education music was not seen as essential. Formal musical training was mainly concerned with vocal practice including some theoretical knowledge about modes and rhythmic structures which took place in monastic singing schools to preserve and unify the many dialects of the Gregorian Chant. We also know next to nothing about the musical praxis in families – if it existed at that time at all. We must be aware that the history of music education is mostly presented from a top down view, that is, from the perspective of church regulations (Kirchenordnungen), state edicts (Erlasse), and formal decrees, not from the bottom up view of teachers and learners. Only since the Enlightenment did music appear more visibly in social life and became documented in more detail including its educational application. However, we have always to keep in mind that what we know represents only a small selection of the music that was actually taught, learned, and performed in real life. In the nineteenth century, when music became a domain of the bourgeoisie, it served as a means of emotional expression and artistic behavior and was used for spiritual education (Gemütsbildung). Progressive pedagogues such as Pestalozzi and Froebel discovered singing as a school subject that should be taught systematically and methodically. Countless “Singing Instructions” (Gesangsbildungslehren) were published between 1810 and 1850. One of them – Kübler’s Anleitung (1826) – turned into Lowell Mason’s 81 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 81–84. © 2007 Springer.

Gruhn

Manual of the Boston Academy of Music (1834) and influenced American music education. In Germany, the most influential singing method book was that of Pfeiffer and Nägeli (1810) who claimed it to be based on Pestalozzian principles, which were then applied to singing lessons by many other educators. Interestingly, German speaking countries underwent a special development separated from other European countries. Whereas England and all Roman countries used solfège syllables as a teaching aid (which until now replaced the letter names for notes), German music teachers debated about the right method for singing instruction which focused on numerals instead of syllables. The most influential method with numerals in opposition to Pfeiffer and Naegeli was developed by Natorp (1813). Glover’s Tonic-Solfa system first appeared in Germany in the outgoing nineteenth century and was introduced by Agnes Hundoegger (Tonika-Do, 1897/1925) and later as a means of the Kodály method. Surprisingly a remarkable discrepancy appeared in Germany between the recognition of musical culture in society regarding the artistic quality of performances on the one hand, which is reflected by the activities of Gesangvereine and Musikfeste (music festivals) under the auspices of Zelter, Mendelssohn, or Schumann among others, and the desolate situation of music in public schools on the other hand, which has been reported by John Hullah (1880) and John Spencer Curwen (1901). In Germany and other European countries, a progressive movement of education started at the beginning of the twentieth century with a new discovery of the child and its long neglected potential (Ellen Key, 1900; Maria Montessori, 1909/1969). Along with the philosophical innovations in arts education (Kunsterziehungsbewegung), in the arts (Jugendstil), as well as in many other domains of daily life the new philosophy of progressive education (Reformpädagogik) arose. Embedded in the embracing movement of Jugendbewegung (youth movement), the Jugendmusikbewegung (youth music movement) (see Die Deutsche Jugendmusikbewegung (1980)) and its charismatic leaders Fritz Jöde and Walther Hensel opened a new perspective for music education based on singing the “true” ancient folk-songs and early madrigals (Singbewegung) and active music-making opposed to passive listening to virtuous performances of professional musicians. The term Musikant characterized this new ideal of a musically active and creative dilettante. For these musicians a vocal and instrumental repertoire from the Renaissance up to the Baroque was newly edited and instruments of early music like the recorder, lute, fiddle, viola da gamba, etc. were re-introduced into musical practice because these instruments were seen as applicable to the technical skills of amateurs. At the same time, a profound reform of the structure of music education in schools at all levels was initiated and installed in Prussia by Leo Kestenberg (see Gruhn, 2003). His reforms (Kestenberg-Reform) laid the ground for the basic principles of music education in Germany in the twentieth century (see Kestenberg, 1921). During the first decades of the twentieth century a very unique model of music education had been established, the so-called Musische Erziehung, which was based on integrated art activities (quadrivium of the Muses), but later transformed into Nationalsozialistische Erziehung (Krieck, 1935) which dominated the entire educational ideology in the Third Reich (Günther, 1992). The political implications of Musische Bildung during that period fostered the preference for the more neutral term of artistic or aesthetic education (künstlerische Bildung) and its anchoring in the school curriculum.

Germany

References Curwen, J. S. (1901). School music abroad. London: J. Curwen. Reprinted in J. Hullah and J. S. Curwen, School music abroad 1879–1901. Kilkenny: Boethius, 1984. Die Deutsche Jugendmusikbewegung (1980). Archiv der Jugendmusikbewegung e.V. (Ed.), Wolfenbüttel: Möseler. Gruhn, W. (2003). Geschichte der Musikerziehung. 2. erweiterte Auflage. Hofheim: Wolke. Günther, U. (1992). Die Schulmusikerziehung von der Kestenbergreform bis zum Ende des Drittes Reiches, 2. Auflage. Augsburg: Wißner. Hullah, J. (1880). Report on musical instruction in elementary schools on the continent. London: HMSO. Reprinted J. Hullah and J. S. Curwen, School Music Abroad 1879–1901. Kilkenny: Boethius, 1984. Hundoegger, A. (1925). Leitfaden der Tonika-Do-Lehre. Hannover: Verlag der methodischen Schriften des Tonika-Do-Bundes. First edition 1897. Kestenberg, L. (1921). Musikerziehung und Musikpflege. Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer. Key, E. (1909). The century of the child [Barnets århundrade, 1900]. New York, London: Putnam’s Sons. Krieck, E. (1935). Musische Erziehung. Leipzig: Armanen Verlag. Kübler, G. F. (1826). Anleitung zum Gesang: Unterrichter in Schulen. Stuttgart: Metzler’sche Buchhandlug. Mason, L. (1834). Manual of the boston academy of music for instruction in the elements of vocal music on the system of Pestalozzi. Boston: J. H. Wilkins & R. B. Carter. Montessori, M. (1969). Die Entdeckung des Kindes (La scoperta del Bambino, 1909). Freiburg: Herder. Natorp, B. L. (1813). Anleitung zur Unterweisung im Singen für Lehrer in Volksschulen. Essen: Bädeker. Pfeiffer, M. T., & Nägeli, H. G. (1810). Gesangbildungslehre nach Pestalozzischen Grundsätzen. Zürich: Nägeli.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 5.2 China

Wai-Chung Ho Hong Kong Baptist University, Hong Kong

My commentary1 on Gordon Cox’s chapter will use China’s music education as an illustration of (1) how traditional music education used music as moral discipline for encouraging people to conform to a virtuous life and (2) how modern Chinese music education has attempted to keep abreast with global sociopolitical changes. I will focus on how formal and informal music education has been shaped by social changes in the Chinese state. Imperial China played a significant role in understanding musical knowledge as a sociopolitical discipline. Chinese emperors’ adoption of the Confucian system to rationalize the hierarchical Chinese society2 relied greatly on the discipline of moral education. The traditional social categories of Chinese music were categorized into three main kinds: “refined music” (yayue or “cultivated music,” which was the formal or official music of the court and indigenous to the Han civilization3); “popular music” (suyue or “uncultivated music”); and “foreign music” (huyue or “barbarian music”). Because the Confucian social value of music stressed the bonds of kinship and social stability, “refined music,” which implied the refinement of individuals, families, and society, was highly valued in the Imperial Chinese music education system. Music was regarded as a symbol of a good emperor and stable government. Confucius said, “If one should desire to know whether a kingdom is well governed, if its morals are good or bad, the quality of its music will furnish the answer” (Tame, 1986, p. 345). Thus, Confucians incorporated Chinese “refined” music (Yayue) into moral education. Music, together with ritual, was thought to provide a route to the achievement of an ideal life and an ideal state of mind (DeWoskin, 1982; Wang, 2004). Music and rites were viewed as pathways to human perfection, bringing human beings together with cosmic harmonies. During the later nineteenth century, owing to military defeats by the West and Japan, China began to take an interest in Western music, and Chinese musicians were sent to Japan, America, and France. However, after China’s military defeat by Western countries and Japan, protest songs were composed and promoted as antiforeign propaganda. In 1929, Mao Zedong, founder of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), called 85 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 85–88. © 2007 Springer.

for the formal inclusion of revolutionary songs in training programs for cadres and soldiers, and a committee was established to “produce appropriate songs” (Wong, 1984, pp. 121–122). These protest songs, with Chinese texts, were mostly copied from Russian tunes. The growth of nationalism in music education in Mainland China was further reinforced by military invasions by foreign countries in World War II. During the eight-year war against Japan (1937–1945) and the 4-year Civil War (1945–1949), antiwar and patriotic songs were encouraged and used as teaching materials. From the early 1960s, the PRC government also encouraged amateurs, such as factory workers, peasants, soldiers, and students to compose their own songs in accordance with Mao’s “mass-line” theory. The musical fanfare which opened the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976) – “The East is Red” – was a traditional Chinese folk tune with new lyrics extolling Mao Zedong and the Communist regime. This song, which became the movement’s anthem (Kraus, 1989), “deified” Chairman Mao as the sun in heaven. Because of its associations with the Cultural Revolution, the song has been rarely heard after Deng Xiaoping’s Open-door policy of the late 1970s, and has largely been replaced by the “March of the Volunteers,” which mentions neither the Communist Party or Mao Zedong. The sociopolitical transformation of China and its shift toward market economics in the 1980s set the tone for a new era that contrasts astonishingly with the past. However, the Chinese state still promotes traditional Confucian respect for school songs, and grounds education on traditional Chinese values and cultures to fill the moral “ideological vacuum” created by the promotion of laissez-faire market forces (Ho & Law, 2004; Law, 1998). Recently the Shanghai Municipal Education Commission compiled a list of 100 patriotic songs for middle school students, including Andy Lau’s (a Hong Kong popular artist) “The Chinaman,” and Jay Chow’s (a Taiwanese popular artist) “Snails.” This list has inflamed a heated debate about how patriotic education should be conducted. In particular, the song “Snails” has sparked controversy about whether it encourages individualism rather than dedication to society. Since the Chinese state’s policy of opening up to the outside world, marked particularly by its entry into the World Trade Organisation (WTO) and successful bid for the 2008 Olympics, multiculturalism has been introduced into the school music curriculum (Ministry of Education, 2001). Now, besides learning traditional Chinese music, students are encouraged to have a broader sense of aesthetics and a greater respect for other countries through learning about the rich diversity of the musical cultures of the world (Ministry of Education, 2001). Research into the history of music education acknowledges that teaching and learning music is politically and socially constructed. However, compared with the western hemisphere, the power of the Chinese state is comparatively dominant over the other three educational agencies of family, church, and school. This chapter tells us pointedly that research into music education is needed that links national cultural contexts and citizens’ and pupils’ developing identities (social and learning) so as to better understand educational change in relation to the political, social, economic, and cultural challenges of the twenty first century. Further research in the history of music education should strike a balance between academic work and its practical application. We are looking for not only an account of the changes in music education in different parts of the globe, but also for a stimulating analysis and interpretation of these changes.

China

Notes 1. My notes are drawn from my previous publications (see Ho, 2003, 2004; Ho & Law, 2004) and structured on Dr. Cox’s chapter on the dynamics of the sociopolitical and historical development of music education with particular reference to China. 2. The distribution of power among people in Imperial China was reflected in five pairs of human relationships: between sovereign and subject, father and son, elder and younger, husband and wife, and between friends. The first-pair relation was dynastic; the last was social; whilst the other three were familial. The only nonhierarchical interaction was between all citizens that Confucius called “friends.” 3. The Chinese often called themselves Han Ren (or “Men of the Han”), after a famous dynasty of that name, that is, Han Dynasty (206 B.C.–A.D. 200). The Han Chinese comprise 92 percent of the population of China. Over a period of 2000 years, Confucianism has held a place at the center of the traditional Han family. Han civilization developed in the eastern side of China: mostly located at the lower Yellow River, lower Yangzi River, and the coastal regions of the southern part of the country.

References DeWoskin, K. J. (1982). A song for one or two: Music and the concept of art in early China. Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese Studies, The University of Michigan. Ho, W. C. (2003). Westernization and social transformations in Chinese music education, 1895–1949. History of Education, 32(3), 289–301. Ho, W. C. (2004). A comparative study of music education in Shanghai and Taipei: westernisation and nationalization. Compare, 34(2), 231–249. Ho, W. C., & Law, W. W. (2004). Values, music and education in China. Music Education Research, 6(2), 149–167. Kraus, R. C. (1989). Pianos and politics in China: Middle-class ambitions and the struggle over western music. New York: Oxford University Press. Law, W. W. (1998). Education in the People’s Republic of China since 1978: Emergency of new actors and intensification of conflicts. In J. Y. S. Cheng (Ed.), China in the post-Deng era (pp. 559–588). Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Ministry of Education, the People’s Republic of China (2001). Yinyue Kecheung Biaozhun (Standard of Music Curriculum). Beijing: Normal University Publishing Company. Tame, D. (1986). The secret power of music: The transformation of self and society through musical energy. New York: Destiny Books. Wang, Y. W. (2004). The ethical power of music: Ancient Greek and Chinese thoughts. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 38(1), 89–104. Wong, I. K. F. (1984) Geming Gequ: Songs for the education of the masses. In B. S. McDougall (Ed.), Popular Chinese literature and performing (pp. 112–143). London: University of California.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 5.3 Japan

Koji Matsunobu University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

In Japan music education traditionally involves life-long learning and practice in homes, temples, and shrines, as well as in master-apprentice settings, for religious, moral, cultural, and social functions. Although musical transmission of values in each of these settings is significant and needs further investigation, studies have exclusively dealt with music teaching and learning as part of formal school education. Since its inception in the late nineteenth century, Japanese school music education has chiefly focused on disseminating Western musical values while excluding Japanese traditional music and its indigenous values (Imada, 2000; Ogawa, 2000). Until recently, many Japanese music educators have exclusively taught Western music and Westernstyle Japanese songs, a phenomenon that is often observed in colonized countries. In a sense, this Westernization of and through music, with its emphasis on the moral cultivation of students, has been viewed as a means for the Meiji Restoration Government to strengthen the nation’s wealth and its military against the great world powers of the time (Yamazumi, 1967). Indeed, school music education played an important role in unifying the nation and establishing the Japanese nationalistic identity (Nishijima, 1994). Outside of Japan, however, school music was used by the Japanese government during the period of Japanese occupation as a means for controlling the Asian colonies by supplanting their indigenous values with Japanese values (see Liou, 2005, for a Taiwanese case; Park, 1994, for a Korean case). The Westernization of and through music is also interpreted in part as a result of Christian missionary efforts to spread Christianity through the newly created Japanese songs in the hymn style, called shoka, intended solely for use in school music education. Although this religious conversion was largely unsuccessful, a series of the shoka has, with the support of the Japanese government, formed the main repertoire of the nation’s school music. What was unique about this hybrid music was its continued popularity throughout Japan (Yasuda, 1993), although its acceptance and assimilation into Japanese schools was the consequence of a gradual negotiation between indigenous Japanese epistemology and Western values, which often conflicted with each 89 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 89–90. © 2007 Springer.

Matsunobu

other (Hashimoto, 2003; Imada, 2003). The end product of this form of musical colonization was a fertile ground for new seeds of talent, sensitivity, and creativity, along with the indigenous values. However, the past few decades have seen Japanese music educators becoming more concerned with their unbalanced inclination toward Western music and hence, instigated a reformation of their school music curriculum, pedagogy, and cultural identity (Imada, 2000).

References Hashimoto, M. (2003). Japan’s struggle for the formation of modern elementary school curriculum: Westernization and hiding cultural dualism in the late 19th century. In W. F. Pinar (Ed.), International handbook of curriculum research. London: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Imada, T. (2000). Postmodernity and Japan’s music education: An external perspective. Research Studies in Music Education, 15, 15–23. Imada, T. (2003). Traditional Japanese views of music. Journal of the Indian Musicological Society, 34, 64–74. Liou, L. (2005). Shokuminchika no Taiwan ni okeru gakko shoka kyoiku no seiritsu to tenkai [The development and pervasion of shoka music education in colonized Taiwan]. Tokyo: Yuzankaku. Nishijima, H. (1994). Gakko ongaku no kokumin togo kino: Nashonaru aidentiti to sh*te no “kantori ishiki” no kakuritsu o chushin to sh*te [The functions of music education in school in the national integration: Focusing on “country consciousness” as the national identity]. Tokyo daigaku kyoiku gakubu kiyo, 34, 173–184. Ogawa, M. (2000). Early nineteenth century American influences on the beginning of Japanese public music education: An analysis and comparison of selected music textbooks published in Japan and the United States. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Indiana University, Bloomington. Park, S. (1994). Kankoku kindai ongaku kyoikushi ni okeru “aikoku shoka kyoiku undo” no igi [The role of “the Patriotic Songs Educational Movement” in the history of modern musical education in Korea: Against the background of the Japanese policy of music education in Korea]. Ongaku Kyoikugaku, 24(2), 37–50. Yamazumi, M. (1967). Shoka kyoiku seiritsu katei no kenkyu [A study on the development of shoka education]. Tokyo: Tokyo daigaku shuppankai. Yasuda, H. (1993). Shoka to jujika: Meiji ongaku kotohajime [Shoka and the crucifix: The beginning of music education in Meiji]. Tokyo: Ongaku no Tomosha.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 5.4 Turkey

H. Seval Köse Suleyman Demirel University, Turkey

Music was one of the cultural, artistic, and educational fields which were deemed to be significant for social development in the early times of the Turkish Republic in the early twentieth century. Therefore, training music teachers also became one of the priorities to be accomplished in line with the new Republican reforms. These points make the history of Turkish Music Education worth exploring. The establishment of Musiki Muallim Mektebi (i.e., School of Music Teacher Training; hereinafter referred to as MMM) in 1924 was an indicator of how important music education was for the founders of the Turkish Republic. Since music courses were run only by the musicians trained in the Ottoman palaces until the establishment of MMM, proper training for music teachers became a dire necessity. MMM which was established to respond to the need for training music teachers is thus still an important source of inspiration for academic discussions about music education. “It has both direct and indirect historical motives for training music teachers in Turkey; and it is closely related to the occurrence, development and spread of the polyphonic music culture in Turkey” (Uçan, 2004, p.11). MMM was established to train music teachers for secondary schools, high schools, and schools of music. The first founding regulation of MMM was put into force in 1925, and it indirectly envisaged the training of music teachers for primary schools. This regulation also required a four-year training course for the would-be teachers. After a while, the four-year-training period was increased to five years. The first three years of the training process were devoted to education, while the students were required to have sufficient school experience in the final year. The founding directive (1925) involved the following courses: (1) music courses such as Theory of Music, Harmony, Composition, Counterpoint, History of Music, Vocal; (2) general and cultural courses such as Turkish, Literature, History, Geography, Psychology, German, Math. Violin, piano, flute, and violoncello were the instruments required for instrumental training; and it was compulsory for the trainees to choose one of those instruments. 91 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 91–92. © 2007 Springer.

Köse

The regulation was also put into force for higher education in 1934, and it was considered legally valid for the Academy of National Music (i.e., Milli Musiki ve Temsil Akademisi). In 1936, the scope of music education was expanded by the establishment of conservatories. These important steps were taken with the help of the foreign music experts such as Paul Hindemith and Eduard Zuckmayer. MMM was restructured as a “music department” in Gazi Orta Ög˘retmen Okulu ve Terbiye Enstitüsü (i.e., Gazi School of Music and Institute of Teacher Training) in 1937. Being compulsory for the prospective music teachers who completed the secondaryschool training, this department provided a three-year-higher education. The restructuring program also enabled the students to go abroad for education and to work as an assistant after graduation. Meanwhile, Hasanoglan Yuksek Koy Enstitutusu (i.e., Hasanoglan Village Institute) was set up in 1942 in order to train music teachers to work in music institutes; however, that institute was closed down in 1947. In 1974, the new restructuring program for the music department at Gazi Education Institute envisaged a four-year-training process for the prospective music teachers. The new four-year-undergraduate program was carried out in I·stanbul, I·zmir, Bursa, and some other cities. The four-year higher education programs which were first supervised by the Ministry of National Education were later structured as university programs and then restructured as music education departments within the faculties of education. In 1990, for the first time, a university department, that is, School of Music in the Faculty of Education at Gazi University, taught courses such as Theories of Music Education, Vocal Education, and Instrumental Training. The faculty members were expected to develop expertise in specific fields. However, that program was abolished by the Higher Education Board (hereinafter referred to as YÖK); and it became impossible for the music instructors to maintain expertise only in specific fields. YÖK’s new restructuring program attached a scientific status to music education organised as a branch of fine arts. This program still functions today. There are various points of view with regard to music education and teacher training programs. These different approaches focus on modernizing the process and quality of training the would-be teachers. Their priorities are continuously shaped and reshaped in line with national expectations and needs, as well as international planning and implementation.

Reference Uçan, A. (2004). “Türkiye” de Batlangıcından Günümüze Müzik Ög˘retmeni Yetittirmeye Genel Bir Bakıt’ in 1924–2004 Musiki Muallim Mektebi’ nden Günümüze Müzik Ög˘retmeni Yetittirme Sempozyumu, Isparta: Süleyman Demirel Üniversitesi Burdur Eg˘itim Fakültesi.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 5.5 Scandinavia

Eiliv Olsen Bergen University College, Norway

Historically, Scandinavia did not have an extensive aristocracy compared to many other European countries. Hence, there is not much documentation of music teaching and learning in medieval aristocratic family life in Scandinavia (some can be found in The Cambridge History of Scandinavia 2003, pp. 550–555). Much more common was, especially in Norway and Sweden, folk music learned in apprenticeship in rural districts (Stubseid, 1992). But musical life in Scandinavian bourgeoisie families was in many ways similar to the description in Cox’s chapter (Öhrström, 1987). In Sweden and Denmark, there were musical institutions in many towns in the 1800s (Ahlbäck, 1998). In Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, learning music in the Lutheran church historically has been linked to choir boys singing in the great cathedrals (Fæhn, 1994). In rural districts of Norway, where pietism often dominated church life, the hymn melodies were often locally “translated” and learnt in a mentor-apprentice setting, as in other folk music. Today, the Ten Sing movement has become very popular in many congregations. Music in Scandinavian compulsory schools was from the beginning focused on the singing of hymns by rote. During the nineteenth century, the singing of national songs and hymns became important in the upbringing of children, due to nationalistic trends, especially in Norway where the political struggle to reach autonomy was quite strong (Dahl, 1959; Johnsson, 1973; Jørgensen, 1982; Nielsen, 1998; Varkøy, 1993; Vea and Leren, 1972). Today, music curricula in many Scandinavian compulsory schools may be said to have a “praxial” profile. The “folkehøjskole” for adolescents, a free school originally founded by the Danish poet and clergyman N.F.S. Grundtvig (1783–1872), as an alternative to the more theoretical “latin school,” has become very popular, and many of these schools offer a lot of musical activities. Most Scandinavian municipalities have music schools, important alternatives to music learning in compulsory schools (Gustafsson, 2000; Olsson, 1993; Persson, 2001). In 1997, the Norwegian government decided by law that every municipality shall have its own music or culture school. 93 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 93–94. © 2007 Springer.

Olsen

In Norway, there is a unique tradition of brass or wind bands (“school bands”) in compulsory schools. Many children have been introduced to music through playing in such bands which have a central role in the celebration of Norway’s National Day.

References Historical references General: de Geer, I. (2003). Music. In: Knut Helle (Ed.,) The Cambridge history of Scandinavia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Denmark: Johnsson, B. (1973). Den danske skolemusiks historie indtil 1793. København: Gads forlag. Norway: Dahl, H. (1959). Norsk lærerutdanning fra 1814 til i dag. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget. Fæhn, H. (1994). Gudstjenestelivet i den norske kirke. Oslo. Stubseid, G. (1992). Frå spelemannslære til akademi. Bergen: Forlaget Folkekultur. Vea, K., & Leren, O. (1972). Musikkpedagogisk grunnbok. Oslo: Norsk Musikforlag. Sweden: Ahlbäck, B. (1998). Musikdirektör Anders Sidner. Musikundervisning och musikliv i skolstaden Härnösand 1840–1870. Stockholm: KMH Förlaget. Gustafsson, J. (2000). Så ska det låta. Studier av det musikpedagogiske fältets framväxt i Sverige 1900–1965. Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis. Öhrström, E. (1987). Borgerlige kvinnors musicerande i 1800-talets Sverige. Göteborgs Universitet. Contemporary References Denmark: Nielsen, F.V. (1998). Almen musikdidaktik København: Akademisk forlag. Norway: Jørgensen, H. (1982). Sang og musikk. Et fa*gs utvikling i grunnskolen fra 1945 til 1980. Oslo: H. Aschehoug & Co. Varkøy, Ø. (1993). Hvorfor musikk? – en musikkpedagogisk idéhistorie. Oslo: ad Notam, Gyldendal. Sweden: Olsson, B. (1993). SÄMUS – en musikutbildning i kulturpolitikens tjänst? Göteborg: Novum. Persson, T. (2001). Den kommunala musikskolans framväxt och turbulenta 90-tal. Göteborgs Universitet nr. 68.

INTERLUDE 6 HISTORY LOOKING FORWARD

Richard Colwell University of Illinois, U.S.A.

I’ve always been interested in history; as an undergraduate I took a sufficient number of classes that history slipped in as one of my teaching minors. American history was not chronologically distant, my grandfather was an immigrant, one of the founders of Scotland, S. D. had an acquaintance with the American Indian Chief, Sitting Bull. I can think of few reasons for this interest in academic history; I was an undergraduate pre-med major at the time. In retrospect, however, I realize that my identity was influenced and enlarged by my connection with the history of my country. When I became a music major, I found that the history of music was a core course along with music theory and I applied to Harvard in musicology only to be discouraged by my advisor with employment data in that field. In graduate school, my interest narrowed to the teaching and learning of music and I was introduced to education and music education, neither of which seemed to cherish its history. I felt lost: What was my professional identity to be? Where the history of music is a rich and fascinating field with multiple niches and crannies to explore – styles, genres, individuals, ethnicities, and more, but little attention has been paid by musicologists to pedagogy. Music researchers have documented the private teachers, the home environment, and the chance encounters that influenced seminal figures in music but history reveals no unfolding pattern of “music education.” Teaching and learning have a lengthy existence but music education is a recent discipline (if it is one) and remains vaguely defined. Outstanding teachers of music are seemingly randomly distributed in history with no geographic or philosophical identity. Without a proud history, I find it difficult to have an identity as a music educator. Does one identify with the great trumpet, composition, and conducting teachers or with the local folk musicians? The difference between excellence in musical performance and excellence in music pedagogy further confuses the picture. As a graduate student, I began the search for identity as a music educator. In medicine, one learns of new procedures and drugs and even about changes in education that have resulted from the evaluation of medical education; that is, that conducted by Abraham 95 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 95–102. © 2007 Springer.

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Fechner in the early twentieth century. In reading about progress in medicine, one also obtains a sense of the problems that remain to be solved and a sense of pride at the great accomplishments of the field. History of any profession is built upon a record of research and experience and I needed to know the status, progress, and challenges of music education. The most promising areas of investigation for a scholarly history of music education seemed to me to be (1) events in K-12, (2) events in teacher education, (3) events in research and evaluation, or (4) events in the K-16 curricula that might have influenced teaching and learning. The first topic, the history of school music K-12 offers an infertile field in which to build an identity. Books authored by historians of education in the United States seldom mention the existence or absence of music in the curriculum. Music education has been recognized by educators only when an external agency has supported a shortterm curricular intervention. Chronologies written exclusively about music education tend to highlight the work of Lowell Mason in Boston around 1837 (whose interest in the public schools was likely related to his publications), and then fast-forward to the founding of the Music Supervisors National Conference at the beginning of the twentieth century, this founding likely being a protest movement at the short shrift being given to music by the National Education Association at its annual meetings. The thin gruel that constitutes a possible identity provides the names of a few music supervisors who made such gains as academic credit for music, funds to support their programs, and additional class time, as well as those conductors who developed truly outstanding secondary school ensembles; for example, the first oboist of the New York Philharmonic, Joseph Robinson, names his high school band director, Captain Harper, in Lenoir, N.C. as the most influential teacher in his life. It remains unclear how, or if, research or the success of individual teachers gradually or suddenly improved the teaching and learning of music in the schools in a century or more of existence. There is historical evidence that in elementary school in the 1930s and 1940s public school students could read music and sing 3 and 4 part music and could recognize the compositions of a select number of the major composers. Numerous ensembles were equal to, if not better than, ensembles in today’s schools. The Joliet Grade School Band of the 1950s remains a model of excellence and I can recall being excited and moved by its performance of the third movement of Schakowsky’s Sixth Symphony. Recently an effort was made to release recordings of William Revelli’s high school band in Hobart, Indiana and, with the first release, his University of Michigan band’s recording was confused with that of the Hobart high school ensemble. In addition to these gifted teachers (whose own education follows no pattern, certainly not in music education) some K-12 music programs have been influenced by the work of internationalists, Sinichi Suzuki, Carl, Orff, and Zoltán Kodály. The extent of this influence is difficult to document as one cannot say that America has more and better school orchestras as a result of the ideas of Suzuki or that students sing better because of the influence of Orff or Kodály. Because of dissatisfaction with the scope and quality of K-12 music, various philanthropic foundations (Ford, Rockefeller, and others) have sponsored dazzling interventions that had little or no long-term effect on teaching and learning or music education as a profession. The reasons or causes for any lack of progress in K-12 education may be due to the fast-changing American society and the lack of

History Looking Forward

importance given to music by professional educators. The history of K-12 (or at least K-8) seems to be one of waging a slow retreat while building a defense of present practices and positions. Topic number two, the history of teacher education in music, however, should be different from that of music K-12 and offer areas of research and innovative practice, being as it is the responsibility of professionals in the field. This is topic number two, and I shall also touch upon topics three and four here. An early research grant allowed me to travel to the major libraries in search of documentation of the history of music teacher education. What I found was logical but somewhat unexpected. The history of music education actually centers on the role of the classroom teacher. It was the classroom teacher who was expected to be competent in music education; one certification requirement was passing examinations in music. Early on, each school district administered its own examinations, but the administration and control gradually passed to the state, allowing teachers to be state rather than locally certified. These examinations included no performance of any kind but were quite rigorous with respect to music fundamentals and this emphasis explains why, in turn, teachers taught the students in detail the fundamentals of music. For the specialist, the music teacher, there is less systematic history; until the 1920s, performers from the Sousa band and similar ensembles were welcomed into the schools as certified teachers. The practice of accepting performing experience over formal schooling continued in some states until the 1950s. Neither my high school band nor orchestra director had a degree in music or music education. Looking at thousands of student and teacher examinations spurred my interest in the history of evaluation in field of music (topic 3), as these examinations helped shape the direction and scope of music education. Surprisingly, music teacher education in the first half of the twentieth century didn’t change substantially even though the scope of the discipline had broadened considerably and music specialists were given more responsibility for student learning, K-12. There was limited research in music education as few problems were identified. The bureaucratic machinery involved with certification became the dominant force in music teacher preparation. (Changes in this preparation have almost always required music education students to have experiences similar to those of students in a college of education.) This bland, standardized, approach to teacher education encompassed all music education students, whether their interests were early childhood education or the high school orchestra; hence students didn’t know whether to think of themselves as musicians or as music educators. The teaching and learning of music through private lessons remains a common mode of instruction, one seldom associated with music education. More about this situation later. Suffice it to say, however, that with respect to undergraduates, identity issues continue in the twenty first century. Armed with another research grant I took a deeper look at music teacher education. Inspired teachers, including music teachers, seemed to have been at Teachers College in the 1940s and 1950s. Teachers College was a center of progressivism, emphasizing the ideas and philosophy of John Dewey who was professor emeritus in residence until 1939 (and around until 1952). Teachers College had inspiring professors (such as Harold Rugg, John Childs, William Kilpatrick) whose philosophy happened to align with the ideas of some terrific musicians on the faculty: James Mursell, Howard

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Murphy, Gladys Tipton, Raymond Burroughs, Peter Dykema, and Harry Robert Wilson. Mursell, a well-respected psychologist, forcefully decried the overemphasis on the mechanics of music that occluded the important outcomes of music, the ability to appreciate its expressiveness. The education faculty at Teachers College saw in music education a teaching-learning situation that exemplified Dewey’s ideas: the process of learning was important and the goals long term, extending beyond the secondary school. One conjecture of mine is that Art as Experience, one of Dewey’s last books, resulted when Dewey recognized that it was in arts education that his ideas were practiced. A second conjecture is that Dewey found music education where in education generally, subject matter scholars found Dewey. For the music researcher, one problem that arose with respect to cognitive psychology is that students who learn with an emphasis on “doing” (performing) are taught that the doing is to become as automatic or instinctual as possible. Automaticity with all of its benefits for enhancing performance is not necessarily mindful doing. One can perform and listen with the mind in neutral. It was difficult for me to probe the relationships that existed at Teachers College at this period, including the role of the Dalton School, but there must have been a feeling of equality between the music and education faculties. All of the fine musicians on the faculty were pleased to be identified as music educators – the merging of psychology, music theory, and performance by this faculty established for the first time an educational program where the graduates welcomed their identity as music educators. One has to assume that it was leaders in education at Teachers College who recognized the importance of music (and the arts) and supported this strong and cohesive faculty. A second fortuitous alignment between education and music occurred at the University of Illinois in the 1960s and 1970s and here I can speak more confidently of a situation where students and faculty could identify with and be respected as a music educator. Alonzo Grace, who had been high commissioner for education in postwar Germany became the dean of the College of Education and began to assemble a faculty of scholars who were comfortable with their subject matter disciplines and yet interested in the process of transmitting knowledge, skill, and more in their disciplines. In this atmosphere, all subjects were of equal importance and each was seen as having a basis for scholarship, for research, and for innovation. A science educator, Will Burnett who had worked in industry and taught at Stanford, was chairman of the secondary education department. He offered unqualified support for the founding of the Council of Research in Music Education as its goal was the upgrading of research scholarship in music education. Somewhat later, he supported the initiation of Visual Arts Research, a journal patterned after the Bulletin. Inspired by a U.S. Office of Education funded research project, arts education philosopher Ralph Smith obtained support from the College of Education to found the Journal of Aesthetic Education. Three journals in arts education research initiated within a short period of time within the College of Education is remarkable. The support for music education as an important discipline permeated all areas of the College and influenced graduate students in music education as well as the faculty. This breadth was important as all music education graduate students, regardless of interest, could identify with one or more subject matter education researchers. Max Beberman,

History Looking Forward

a math educator, was developing at this time his version of new math at University High School and he welcomed and supported my ideas about curriculum innovation in the arts and with Ned Levy in theater and Laura Chapman in visual arts, we were encouraged to explore and innovate with University high school students as our subjects. When music educators wondered about the importance of evaluation and testing in the arts, Lee Cronbach, Gene Glass, Bob Linn, Bob Stake, Ernie House, and Tom Hastings offered support and advice. Charles Osgood suggested exploratory studies with his semantic differential and Barak Rosenshine cooperated on research on direct instruction applicable to the teaching of musical skills. Formal curriculum work was supported by Ian Westbury while the National Reading Center under the leadership of Dick Anderson encouraged exploration of the relationship of music reading to new reading strategies. Ken Travers, conducting TIMSS evaluation studies in math education, encouraged us to think about cross-cultural issues. The list is long and included philosophers Harry Broudy, Foster McMurray, Joe Burnett, and B. Othanel Smith and administration specialists Tom Sergiovani, James Raths, Tom McGreal, and Joe Murphy, augmented by Dean J. Myron Atkin. Lillian Katz in early childhood education was a regular performer in a string quartet and, in educational psychology, J. McVicker Hunt assisted Marilyn Pflederer Zimmerman with her research on Piaget. For those interested in giftedness James Gallagher was a willing colleague as was Alan Knox in adult and continuing education. One result of this interest was the sponsorship by the College of Education of a campus-wide conference on the role of aesthetic education. The idea that music education could be important seeped into the School of Music and influenced to varying extents the string education research of Paul Rolland, the interest in Zoltan Kodaly as a music educator by the musicologist Alexander Ringer, and an appraisal of teaching and learning in music by Claude Palisca, all Illinois faculty members. What was the commonality between Teachers College and Illinois, two places where the music educator had a substantive identity during an almost 30-year period in history? At Illinois, and presumably at Teachers College, the education faculty continued to explore (research and write) in their own subject matter discipline as well as offering suggestions for teaching. No subject had priority on resources. I was unable to document the administrative support for music at Teachers College around the time of WWII but concert pianist Lawrence Cremin, who later became president of Teachers College, assured me it was substantial. The Illinois College of Education faculty at the time I describe was a congeries of faculty members who were comfortable as focused scholars in their own discipline but with a serious interest in teaching and learning, and willing to be identified as an education faculty member. Their standards were high for themselves and their students; no apologies were necessary for being a science, a math, or a music educator, or being a psychologist or philosopher with a commitment to education. Similarly, John Dewey’s affiliation with Teachers College did not lessen his competence or reputation as an American philosopher. As a student and faculty member at Illinois, I was initially unaware that excellence in music education was predicated upon the importance of scholarship in both a college of education and a school of music. Music education was valued both by a College of

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Education and by a School of Music. Without this early experience and an opportunity through funded research to make this historical comparison, it is not likely that the opportunity would have arisen for a Handbook of Research on Music Teaching and Learning or that Gordon Cawelti of ASCD would recognize that research in the arts was of equal importance to teachers as that identified by Doug Grouws in math, James Shavelson in social studies and Jim Squire in language arts. (Handbook of Research on Improving Student Achievement, 3rd edition, 2004.) Around 1980, this historically important relationship between education and music changed in the United States and the role of colleges of education in the preparation of music teachers and as supporters of music education decreased. Colleges of education focused on internal issues and elected to minimize their role in subject matter disciplines. Schools of music assumed more responsibility for music education and thus transformed music education’s status and identity. Without cooperative ventures, the discipline is open to criticisms as those cited by Hersh and Merrow (2005, pp. 54–55) where “An undergraduate can meet the math requirement at the University of Illinois, for instance, with a course called “Principles and Techniques in Music Education” and the English composition requirement at Nebraska with a course in “instructional Television” …” As Larry Cuban (2004, p. 104) reports, confusion arose between policy talk and policy action in Colleges of Education. No such confusion existed at Illinois when the policy talk of such eminent educators as Max Beberman, Lillian Katz, and Merle Karnes was implemented on a daily basis. Each of them was skeptical of long-term lesson planning. Max Beberman argued that it was not possible to plan more than a day in advance as he needed to plan any innovation based upon student reactions to the previous day’s instruction. The focus of these education faculty members was not on what teachers are doing [as Mary Kennedy (2005, p. 54) has insightfully described] but on what teachers should be doing. Kennedy’s careful study of teachers found that “no teacher indicated a specific intention to ensure that the content they taught was inherently (italics in the original) important. Instead, for teachers, content was important because it would be on a test, because it was in curriculum guidelines, or because the teacher at the next grade level would expect students to know it.” Intellectual engagement with a subject was only a topic of minor importance to Kennedy’s sample of competent teachers (p. 54) – engagement yes, intellectual engagement, probably not. I cite Kennedy and Cuban to indicate a historical change in the focus within Colleges of Education and to indicate issues of identity in music education. There is a limited role in a college of education for a music scholar interested in teaching and learning, for example, there has not been a chapter on music education in any of the four handbooks published by AERA on research on teaching. Within Schools of Music, the emphasis is on performance and there does not seem to be a continuation of interest in education as exemplified by Illinois School of Music faculty such as musicologist Alexander Ringer who took teachers to Hungary to study Kodály, or musicologist Claude Palisca who organized the Yale Seminar on contemporary music in the schools. The history of music education during the past 25 years is not one of decline: high school music ensembles remain valued and competent musical organizations. High school graduates are technically proficient and equipped to continue the study of

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music. It is not that teacher education in music has substantially changed; only that the promising model established by Teachers College and continued at the University of Illinois did not take root elsewhere, and disappeared. Without meaningful acceptance of music by educators, competent music educators will identify themselves as performers and not as the local music teacher in the school. The history of music education in the public schools and in teacher education does provide an important insight. The discipline of music does not need the discipline of music education – music was taught successfully for centuries and continues to be well-taught by individuals not trained in music education. Education, however, requires that music be part of any thoughtful curriculum. Without arguing for what constitutes a complete education or what enables an individual to have a full life – an argument that has been well-articulated in all societies – it appears that the responsibility for ensuring that music be provided to students lies within the discipline of education with the most obvious responsibility falling to Colleges of Education and their support for music teacher education.

References Cuban, L. (2004). The blackboard and the bottom line: Why schools can’t be businesses. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Hersh, R. H., & Merrow, J. (Eds.). (2005). Declining by degrees. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Kennedy, M. M. (2005). Inside teaching: How classroom life undermines reform. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

7 SOCIAL HISTORY AND DANCE AS EDUCATION Ann Dils University of North Carolina at Greensboro, U.S.A.

In Thomas Hagood’s A History of Dance in Higher Education (2000) it is emphasized that dance must meet the “charge of the academy” (p. 116): to “push back the boundaries of knowledge, forward the cultural legacy, and contribute to society” (p. 319). Anyone who attends dance education conferences or works in a dance department is familiar with questions that underlie Hagood’s remark: Why teach dance in a university or in public education? How does dancing further the greater good? How can dance be considered research or to increase knowledge? In my recent reading of histories of dance education, I was struck by the contribution that contemporary historians make to thinking about dance as education. To a field that is obsessed with drawing up standards and proving worth, historians of dance education, particularly social historians of dance education, lend information about the impact of the moving body in the social sphere, as dancers form and reform schools and dance organizations, shape ideas about the body, dancing, and education, and transform the ways people are seen and understood. In this chapter, I develop a short summary of dance education in American public schools and colleges and universities, derived entirely from existing literature. I also discuss the current state of historical writing in dance education and project some ideas for future research. (One obvious deficit in the literature will be clear in my summary: that histories of dance education have been limited to the experiences of European immigrants to the United States.) As a conclusion, I return to the perspectives that historians bring to understanding dance as education. The writings I cite and discuss include Nancy Lee Chalfa Ruyter’s Reformers and Visionaries: The Americanization of the Art of Dance (1979), Ruyter’s entry in the International Encyclopedia of Dance (1998), Hagood’s A History of Dance in Higher Education (2000), Janice Ross’s Moving Lessons: Margaret H’Doubler and the Beginning of Dance in American Education (2000), and Linda J. Tomko’s Dancing Class: Gender, Ethnicity, and Social Divides in American Dance, 1890–1920 (1999). I also include information found on Websites of dance organizations, universities, and databases. 103 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 103–112. © 2007 Springer.

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Dance Education in United States Public and University Education Ruyter (1979, 1998) first discusses social dance education, and then the development of dance as physical education.1 She points out that social dancing was an important element of upper-class life in the 1700s and, while practiced everywhere in the colonies, was especially important for the families of Southern planters.2 Strict dancing masters and the precise, patterned dances of the period instilled an appreciation for order and good manners in young people, both necessary to function in society. European dance treatises such as John Playford’s The English Dancing Master (published in many editions around 1700) and Pierre Rameau’s The Dancing Master (translated into English by John Essex and published in 1728) were brought to America, although Ruyter notes that the role these texts played in dance education is not clear. Social dancing remained important to upper-class families throughout the 1800s. By the end of the 1900s, social dance teaching was an established profession whose members wrote books, edited magazines, and founded organizations such as the 1879 American Society of Professors of Dancing.3 Ruyter next moves to the importation of German and Swedish gymnastics to the United States. German immigrants brought Jahn gymnastics, a form of exercise done to music that combined work with different kinds of apparatus, calisthenics, and games, to the United States in the 1800s. Jahn gymnastics was practiced in Turnvereine, gymnastic clubs popular with immigrants, and then practiced more widely in gymnasiums, colleges, and normal schools. Also popular were Ling or Swedish gymnastics and training systems developed by Americans such as Diocletian Lewis. An American Delsarte movement system was the province of upper middle class women, this system focusing on flexibility and poise (see especially Tomko, 1999, pp. 11–20). Hagood (2000) notes that German immigrants changed American universities in many ways, bringing not only ideas about physical culture but ideals of academic freedom for both professorate and learners, and “an emphasis on the importance of discipline-based specialization, the use of scientific methods in research, and the importance of research and development to a university’s mission” (p. 27). In her chapter “Bodies and Dances,” Tomko (1999) discusses the Progressive-era worker, often new to America, employed in some kind of industry, and living in cramped conditions, along with the physical training systems and social dance forms that counterbalanced these stresses. Tomko describes the Progressive Era as one in which men and women were thought to occupy separate spheres and have separate, biologically driven propensities that influenced labor practices and physical training. Ross (2000) furthers this idea: “[a]thletics and intense competition were important for manhood and wartime readiness, while sports for girls were used to develop leadership qualities, sociability, and ‘health’ – defined differently than for the males” (p. 60). In her chapter “Folk Dance, Park Fetes, and Period Political Values,” Tomko (1999) offers information and analysis on dance for children, something other authors discuss only briefly. Luther Halsey Gulick, Director of Physical Training in the public schools of New York City school system, formed the Public School Athletic League (PSAL) in 1902 as an afterschool program, hoping to augment the scant physical training possible

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in the overcrowded, under equipped public schools. The Girls’ Branch, headed by Elizabeth Burchenal, was formed in 1905 and came to emphasize folk dance, especially as performed at large public pageants or park fetes. As Tomko describes it, hundreds of girls came together in choreographed folk dances, taught by public school teachers trained by Burchenal. Although girls also participated in games, folk dancing was favored because it fit theories of child development put forward by G. Stanley Hall, who thought that children develop in the same pattern that societies develop. Folk dancing, being a “primitive” activity, matched the developmental stage of young girls. Furthermore it was non-competitive, could be elevating in its artistic patterning, and allowed young girls to appear in public without an immodest focus on an individual girl. Teaching became a respectable alternative to family life, allowing women like Elizabeth Burchenal and Margaret H’Doubler, a measure of independence. Ross and Tomko both point out that women dancing – teachers dancing in schools, performers and choreographers such Isadora Duncan and Ruth St. Denis, and adult women dancing for pleasure and exercise – were forging new professions for women and new ways for women to appear in public spaces. American women gained the right to vote at the end of this era, in 1920. The 1910s and 1920s was the heyday of modern educational dancing in colleges and universities. Ross (2000) notes that a number of women were exploring dance forms, especially as part of teacher training, that emphasized “natural” expressiveness or relied on gesture, among them Gertrude Colby, who taught at Teacher’s College, Columbia University from the 1910s through the early 1930s, and Bird Larson, who taught at Barnard from 1916 to 1923. These practices were highly influenced by Isadora Duncan, American Delsartianism, Denishawn, and Dalcroze eurythmics. As Ross explains, Margaret H’Doubler, a physical education teacher at the University of Wisconsin, was sent to New York by her department head, Blanche Trilling, in 1916 to attend Teacher’s College and explore dancing as a potential curricular area for the Wisconsin program. H’Doubler, was not a dancer – before going to New York, her favorite activity was basketball – and she thought of dancing as experiential learning rather than preparation for performance. Although H’Doubler did not emphasize her connections to Dewey, Ross examines her writing and teaching alongside Dewey’s ideas. In general, their works share a mutual emphasis on experience as the starting point for thinking, for knowledge construction; an interest in moving past dichotomies (mind and body, science and art) that cloud the integrative nature of the learning process and its reliance on discovery in all fields; and aesthetic experience as important to all people, available in the everyday, and a way of bringing into dialogue the individual and her experience of others and her environment. In 1926 Wisconsin established the first dance major offered at a college or university. Through her teaching and writing, H’Doubler’s influence was unprecedented in college dance. Ross notes that H’Doubler’s Dance: A Creative Art Experience (1940) “sold more than thirty-six thousand copies, a record for any dance education book, in the forty years it dominated the literature of dance education” (Ross, 2000, p.142). In the 1930s, modern dance became an established concert form. The ideas and techniques of Martha Graham, Doris Humphrey and Charles Weidman, and Hanya Holm,

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as taught in summer programs like those at Bennington College and Perry-Mansfield camp, became important to university dance education. College dance departments sponsored concerts by touring modern dancers, professionals sought employment through residencies or as full-time instructors in colleges, and departments sent their graduates, in part, out into the professional world. Hagood (2000) discusses the infusion of professional dance into the university through a remark made by Martha Hill in a 1933 lecture demonstration at the New School for Social Research in New York: “Anything good in the dance … is likewise good in art and education, since the dance is no longer removed from life.” Hagood follows: Hill may have made these comments in an effort to help push dance towards an artistic meaning in education; however the practical result of her remarks are contained in her first sentence – what the dance artist did in technique and choreography, the educator began to imitate, and if not imitate, import directly into their programs through hiring. (p. 165) He goes on to discuss the “schizophrenia” of dance in academia, noting that questions about dance as a discipline and dance as education, as “acknowledging an ever increasing push toward professionalism, yet conflicted about the integrity of dance as a part of liberal learning” (p. 166) continue to occupy dance educators. Hagood pushes on through the twentieth century, establishing a chronological history for dance in the university by examining books and position statements, studies, and correspondence generated by people involved in professional organizations and conferences. Dance in public schools is not his focus, but it is evident that the availability of dance in schools is a continuing question. In the early 1930s, the American Physical Education Association added a Section on Dancing which was to remain the premier organization in dance education until the late 1950s. At the time the Section was founded, there was equal concern with dance for women in colleges and universities and with dancing in elementary schools. Dorothy LaSalle was charged with creating a special presentation on dancing in elementary schools for an upcoming conference. That presentation survives as Dancing in the Elementary Schools (1933). Hagood (2000) notes that “into the late 1950s, the work of the National Section on Dancing was steady and largely concerned with developing criteria for implementing dance programs at all levels of education” (p. 161). By the late 1940s and early 1950s, dance educators were in search of an academic identity.4 Dance in higher education was now primarily artistic training – technique and choreography – but labeled physical education and dance faculty pushed to have dance reclassified as a fine or performing art or as its own subject area. Some faculty, such as Alma Hawkins, who became a department head at the University of California at Los Angeles and was the founder and driving force of the Council of Dance Administrators, saw the need for thinking more clearly about the place of dance training in liberal education. In her Modern Dance in Higher Education (1954) she underscores principles for the dance experience. Her first goal is that “The goals of modern dance in the college and university program should be in harmony with the purposes of higher education.” Later principles emphasize the “development of the individual through experiences that

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help the student meet his needs for an adequate body, satisfying expression, and effective human relations” and that dance education should emphasize “process and growth rather than upon dance as the end product” (Hagood, 2000, pp. 166–167). Other dance educators were concerned about the broader impact of this new conceptualization of dance as an arts discipline. Hagood comments on an article “Creative Dance Experience and Education” written by Marian Van Tuyl in 1951. Van Tuyl complains that college dance can only be considered remedial education until dance is part of K-12 education and the general public becomes more physically developed and astute. Although she notes that university physical education students are not enamored of dancing, “The trend toward transferring dance to the departments of fine arts where it rightfully belongs can serve the small group immediately involved, but under the present setup does little to help in teaching in elementary and secondary schools” (Hagood, 2000, p. 174). Hagood does not explore the history of dance specialists in public schooling nor their relationship to physical education. Some studies suggest that most dance in public schooling is still taught through physical education (see DeBruyn, 1988; Papalardo, 1990 in Overby, 1992). In the 1960s, dance benefited from an upsurge in artistic and intellectual life inspired by John Kennedy’s administration. The National Endowments for the Humanities and for the Arts and the Kennedy Center for the Arts in Washington, DC were all products of 1960s pride in America as a great nation, measurable by the health of its cultural productivity. Within universities, the arts were seen as a way of displaying cultural excellence to their communities. Bachelor of Fine Arts and Master of Fine Arts degrees were instituted in colleges as degrees marking professional preparation. Hagood notes that thirteen dance major programs existed in American colleges in 1950, but by 1963, there were sixty-five. Dance was the subject of several major conferences in the 1960s including the Conference of the National Council on Arts in Education in September 1964. In the following year, members of the newly formed Dance Division of the American Association for Health, Physical Education and Recreation, a more autonomous version of the old National Section on Dance, met to consider Dance as a Discipline. Hagood quotes Nancy W. Smith, writing in the foreword to the conference document: “Specific aims for the endeavor were to (1) To clarify the status of dance as an area of learning in the academic environment; (2) To support the premise the arts, and therefore dance, are significant to the development of the individual in society; and (3) To prepare the case for dance as a full partner in the academic enterprise” (p. 195). Propelled by cultural interests in the body including social dance and bodybuilding, students entered academic dance departments in record numbers in the 1970s – dubbed the Dance Boom in American colleges and universities. The American College Dance Festival, a regional meeting of university faculty and students for classes and choreography showings first met in the 1970s. The Council of Dance Administrators (CODA) was formed, and the concern of its members – mostly dance department heads – was standards. Working with Samuel Hope, Executive Director of the Office of Arts Accreditation in Higher Education, an organization was formed to discuss a Joint Commission for Dance and Theater Accreditation. The endeavor became the National Association of Schools of Dance (NASD), an association that accredits dance departments.

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Hagood (2000) notes that in the 1980s, private and public universities adopted a “corporate-consumer” character, as they increasingly interfaced with state and national agencies and other aspects of government. Funding for dance was cutback, and some departments saw enrollments decline. Hagood notes the rise of doctoral education and of scholarship in dance in the 1990s, and discusses the importance of multiculturalism and technology to curricular innovation. The National Dance Education Organization (NDEO, founded in 1997) Website provides some additional information about the 1990s, noting that dance educators worked to support Goals 2000: Educate America Act, develop national standards and assessments in the arts, and to require state certification or licensure in dance education. As conclusion, Hagood sums up the current state of dance departments: For dance in higher education, the discipline has come to be about art. The adaptation of the conservatory model was a way out from under physical education, and a way to identify with art. … . We have made performance the focus of dance in higher education, although this need not be so for all programs. We must help the faculty of each program bring to the fore that which makes their cooperative effort substantial. We must also help the field expand its notions of the merit and worth of dance related pedagogy, develop multicultural appreciation, and theoretical inquiry. Excellence in dance education must be referenced not only to professional art standards, but also to individual creativity, to cultural understandings, to theoretical appreciation, and to intellectual and kinesthetic development. (pp. 317–319) “Ultimately,” Hagood says, “and perhaps most importantly, dance in education must attend to the charge of the academy: to push back the boundaries of knowledge, to forward the cultural legacy, and to contribute to society” (p. 319).

Toward New Histories of Dance Education Historians have established informational and methodological inroads to an area of research that begs for further development. Very little has been written, for example, about the history of dance in K-12 schooling. Here, Hagood’s technique of examining documents related to dance organizations might prove helpful. The Progressive Era has been discussed by Ruyter, Ross, and Tomko, but other eras remain unexplored. Ross’s melding of biography and social history is an especially compelling way to elucidate how dance operates in individual lives and as an educational and social phenomenon. By discussing dance in Wisconsin, she also helps us see dance as an American social tradition, not only an artistic practice centered in New York. Other biographies might further this process for other eras and communities. One possibility is the work of Charles Williams, who directed a physical education program at the Hampton Institute beginning in the 1910s. His contributions to American concert dance and education have been discussed by Susan Manning in Modern Dance, Negro Dance: Race in Motion (2004), and by John Perpener in

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African-American Concert Dance: The Harlem Renaissance and Beyond (2001). Founded in 1868, Hampton is known for its education programs for Native Americans (1878–1923) as well as African Americans (Hampton’s Heritage). Williams, according to Perpener, wrote articles and books about physical training and about AfricanAmerican cultural traditions and staged drills, gymnastics, and dances at Hampton (pp. 81–88). The Hampton Institute Creative Dance Group, established in 1933, toured extensively, including performances at other historically black colleges and at the 92nd Street YMHA in New York City. Manning notes that Although [Williams] never explicitly dismissed jazz dancing, he clearly saw creative dance as an important alternative that a Negro college committed to moral uplift should cultivate. Largely divided into singe-sex groups, the Hampton Institute Creative Dance Group presented (masculine) African ritual and (feminine) artistic expression as alternative to the Lindy Hop. The gendered imagery of Hampton’s repertory became saturated with respectability and racial uplift. (pp. 41–42) The existing literature suggests the richness of a book-length exploration of Williams as an educator within the Hampton context, and of the politics of gender and race he negotiated as a college professor and artist. Other possibilities are contained in O’Neil’s Dance Education in Michigan: Recollections of Three Pioneers: Grace Ryan, Ruth Murray, and Fannie Aronson (1979). The book begins with brief biographies of three dance educators (and my biographic summaries are largely paraphrased from these, pp. iii–iv), followed by interviews with each woman. Grace Ryan was a professor of physical education at Central Michigan University from 1923 to 1958. The author of Dance of Our Pioneers, Ryan was instrumental in making American country dance a standard part of physical education in schools especially through her published compilations of round, square, and contra dances (see Ryan & Benford, 1926; Ryan & Benford, & Emerson, 1939). In her interview, Ryan mentions her connection with Henry Ford, who wrote about country dancing and promoted dancing as a means of self and community development. Ryan visited Ford’s home, knew his family, and credited Ford as creating an environment in which her own interests could flourish. O’Neil’s second Michigan educator, Ruth Murray, is a stillrecognized name in dance education, especially through her book Dance in Elementary Education: A Program for Boys and Girls (1953/ 1963/1975). Murray studied at Detroit Normal School, then in New York studios and at Bennington School of the Dance in the 1920s and 1930s and she later founded a modern dance program at Wayne State University. The close ties that existed between Wayne and the public schools brought modern dance into the curriculum in the Detroit Schools. The final educator discussed is Fannie Aronson. Aronson studied in New York and at Bennington and also in Colorado with Hanya Holm and at Perry-Mansfield camp. She was an active performer and taught dance in her own studio, the Detroit public schools, and community centers. Virginia Tanner might also be the subject of an interesting biography and investigation of dance in Utah. I wrote a short article about her (Dils, 2000–2001), fascinated by her connections to choreographer Doris Humphrey whom Tanner studied with in the 1930s and 1940s (see Tanner papers). Tanner, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ

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of the Latter Day Saints, went back to Utah to teach and to found Children’s Dance Theater, a dance company that reached national prominence and is still an important Salt Lake City educational and cultural institution, some thirty years after Tanner’s death. Because Tanner saw dancing as expressive of community and religious values, her work makes a good case for examining dance as an American tradition with strong regional variants and a socializing purpose.

Social History and Dance in the University Arguably, dance faculty already meet Hagood’s idea stated at the beginning of this chapter. By choreographing dances, artists push at the boundaries of artistic process and understanding, sharing their discoveries with other art makers and providing edifying experiences for the general public. The technique class is a place of constant experimentation concerning the physical and expressive capabilities of the body. But limiting the purpose of dance in universities to the training of professional artists comes at a cost. Hagood points out the ongoing struggle of dance educators to justify dance as part of elementary and secondary public education. Emphasis on professional training has also limited scholarly exploration of dance and the development of dance history, as scholars have traditionally focused on writing about the lives and works of great choreographers. In her Introduction, Linda Tomko (1999) notes, This point of view is imminently visible in canonical works of twentieth-century modern dance and ballet history alike. It partakes of a “modernist” view of art making articulated in the early decades of this century, and it has had the effect of positioning theatrical dance as “high art” and as a subject for rarefied tastes. It has also had the effect of marginalizing theatrical dance as a subject of academic inquiry, distancing dance from theorizations about how societies operate and change over time. (p. xiv) Further, dance curriculums have largely been dedicated to dance forms that stem from the western tradition and that are framed as art – ballet and modern dance – and closed to dance forms derived from other traditions that are framed as social or “traditional” forms. The works of social historians, and by dance writers in a number of fields that currently use strategies from performance studies, gender studies, social and cultural history, ethnography, and education expand and inform the dance field in important ways, suggesting that dance be viewed not only as “art,” but as a medium of social exchange. This broader emphasis allows dance educators, artists, and scholars to investigate the meanings of choreographic works, but also the experiences of and exchanges between choreographers, dancers, and dance observers; educators and students; and dancers and their practices, traditions, and institutions. The ideas that the body is socially constructed and inscribed – that we learn and display our genders, sexualities, economic class, and so on – and the idea that motion is a means of reshaping who we are, how we are represented, and the meanings those representations hold for

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others is central to the work of contemporary dance scholars. Might these ideas be useful to deliberations about the educational worth of dancing as it is enacted in schools? To contemporary dance scholarship done in other fields, historians add the possibility of looking to the past to see individual lives moving alongside others, and in concert with changes in social practices and beliefs, communities and institutions. Ultimately, the long lens of history helps us think about how dancing contributes to what and how we know and to our constructions of culture and society.

Notes 1. Ann Barzel offers a separate discussion of ballet education in the International Encyclopedia of Dance (1998). At points, her history of ballet education dovetails with Ruyter’s explanation of social, folk, and modern forms. Nineteenth century dancing masters also taught ballet, for example, and ballet is an important subject in college and university dance programs and in performing arts high schools (pp. 290–293). The Encyclopedia also contains discussions of dance education in many other countries, including New Zealand (Shennan, 1998), Australia (Craig, 1998), Canada (Warner, 1998), and Great Britain (Brinson, 1998). 2. See also Elizabeth Aldrich (1991), From the Ballroom to Hell: Grace and Folly in Nineteenth-century Dance, and Lynn Matluck Brooks (1990), Dancing Masters in Eighteenth-century Philadelphia. 3. In her International Encyclopedia of Dance article, Ruyter (1998) continues to discuss social dance training in the twentieth century, noting that private instruction in studios became the most important means of social dance training, that dance instruction is subject to the popularity of social dancing in general and of specific social dances, and that a division grew between the types of dances learned by youth and older people (p. 294). 4. The author of the history found on the National Dance Education Organization Website also notes that physical education also took a disciplinary turn towards athletics and sports science. Changes that occurred with Title IX (1972) and the Equal Educational Opportunity Act (1974) brought together men’s and women’s physical education and placed an emphasis on sports.

References Aldrich, E. (1991). From the ballroom to hell: Grace and folly in nineteenth-century. Evanston, Il: Northwestern University Press. American Physical Education Association. (1933). Dancing in the elementary schools. New York: A. S. Barnes. Barzel, A. (1998). United States of America: Ballet education. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance (Vol. 6, pp. 290–293). New York: Oxford University Press. Brooks, L. M. (1990). Dancing masters in eighteenth-century Philadelphia. Dance: Current selected research, 2, 1–21. Brinson, P. (1998). Great Britain: Dance education. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance (Vol. 3, pp. 276–281). New York: Oxford University Press. Craig, V. L. (1998). Australia: Dance research and publication. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance. (Vol. 1, pp. 218–219). New York: Oxford University Press. Dils, A. (2000/2001). Dance with us: Virginia Tanner, Mormonism, and Humphrey’s Utah legacy. Dance Research Journal, 32(2), 7–13, 17–31. Hagood, T. K. (2000). A history of dance in American higher education: Dance and the American university. Lewiston, NY: E. Mellen Press. Hampton University. Hampton’s heritage. Retrieved June 19, 2005, from http://www.hamptonu.edu/about/ heritage.htm.

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Hawkins, A. M. (1954). Modern dance in higher education. New York: Bureau of Publications, Teachers College, Columbia University. H’Doubler, M. N. (1940). Dance: A creative art experience. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Manning, S. (2004). Modern dance, Negro dance: Race in motion. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Murray, R. L. (1953/1963/1975) Dance in elementary education: A program for boys and girls. New York: Harper and Row. National Dance Education Organization. Who we are: Evolution of the field. Retrieved June 19, 2005 from http://www.ndeo.org/whoweare.asp. O’Neil, K. (Ed.) (1979). Dance education in Michigan: Recollections of three pioneers, Grace Ryan, Ruth Murray & Fannie Aronson. East Lansing, MI: Michigan Dance Association. Overby, L.Y. (1992). Status of dance in education. ERIC Digest. Retrieved June 19, 2005, from http://eric.ed. Perpener, J. O. (2001). African-American concert dance: The Harlem Renaissance and beyond. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Ross, J. (2000). Moving lessons: Margaret H’ Doubler and the beginning of dance in American education. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Ryan, G. L., & Benford, R. T. (1926) Dances of our pioneers. New York: A. S. Barnes & Co. Ryan, G. L., Benford, R.T., & Emerson, B. (1939). Dances of our pioneers. New York: A. S. Barnes & Co. Ruyter, N. L. C. (1979). Reformers and visionaries: The Americanization of the art of dance. New York: Dance Horizons. Ruyter, N. L. C. (1998). United States of America: Social, folk, and modern dance education. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance (Vol. 6, pp. 293–296). New York: Oxford University Press. Shennan, J. (1998). New Zealand: Dance education. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance (Vol. 4, p. 628). New York: Oxford University Press. Tanner, V. (1915–1979). Virginia Tanner Papers (Available from the Jackson Library Special Collections, University of North Carolina at Greensboro, 1000 Spring Garden Street, Greensboro, NC 27402). Tomko, L. J. (1999). Dancing class: Gender, ethnicity, and social divides in American dance, 1890–1920. Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Warner, M. J. (1998). Canada: Dance education. In S. J. Cohen (Ed.), International encyclopedia of dance (Vol. 2, pp. 46–48). New York: Oxford University Press.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 7.1 Korea

Su-Jeong Wee University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

Until the early 1900s, there had not been any formal dance education in Korean schools. Between 1910 and 1945, Korea had been ruled by Japan, and in this period military gymnastics started as a national salvation movement to resist Japanese influence. It provided Koreans with a chance to change their ideas about dance from being mere entertainment to becoming one of the best ways to develop the complete personality by integrating the arts and physical health (Society of Dance Education, 2003). In 1921, a student choir and dance group from Vladivostok visited Korea, and this led to an important opportunity to develop dance education in Korea. There were several reasons for this. First, the public were interested in the traditional dance of Russia as well as of other Western countries. Second, it stimulated the establishment of dance institutes. Third, school dance groups started performing outside the academic realm. Thus, the Vladivostok student music performance in Korea is now considered to be a great contribution to internationalizing and westernizing Korean dance beyond the traditional perspective (Kim, 1998). With regard to the early 1900s, dance education had been considered to be an adjunct of physical education, and most of the dance activities comprised dances with singing and marching. Also, the philosophy of dance education was strongly influenced by the media and the press. A Japanese dancer, Baku Ishi, performed in Korea in the early 1920s. His performance influenced the Korean people to consider dance as an art form (Kim, 1998). Until that time dance as physical movement had been emphasized (Song, 1998). However, dance education still belonged to physical education whose goals were to have interest in the body, to cultivate a positive attitude toward adopting a healthy life style, to develop the basic movement abilities, and to live safely. In practice, physical education focused on entertainment and sports, and dance education did not change much (Kim, 1998). In 1926, the first dance course for school teachers was developed and in the 1930s, the teachers who participated in the dance training played active roles in developing a dance curriculum. The 1930s was considered as a golden age of dance education: many 113 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 113–116. © 2007 Springer.

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dance institutes opened and various dance courses were provided for teachers. However, in terms of school education, the role of dance education to provide amusem*nt was still highlighted. From the late 1930s through to 1941, both the China-Japan war and the Pacific war broke out, and, accordingly, all education began to focus on military training. Dance education merely existed to provide amusem*nt and to provide for the military dance. In 1945, Korea was liberated from Japan and two years later the Society of Chosun1 Dance Education was established with the purpose of developing authentic dance. This Society played an important role in developing dance education and laid the foundation for future dance departments at universities (Yong, 1994). In 1955, the first Korean native educational curriculum was established and dance was proclaimed as part of the official curriculum. However, it was still not accepted as an independent subject but was a part of physical education. Moreover, due to physical education teachers who did not appreciate the nature of dance, dance lost its genuine meaning in the field of education. In 1963, a dance department was first established at Ewha Womans University. At the elementary level, curricular content consisted of gymnastics, play, and health hygiene. At the middle and high school levels, it was more specialized into such activities as body exploration, rhythmic movement, dancing, and dance theories. In the 1970s, various dance performing societies were developed. However, dance education did not change much because it was still considered as part of physical education. A more fundamental reason for its unstable position was that it failed to convince people that “dance is an art and physical training is not an art” (Kim, 1998). In practice, dance education in middle and high schools did not address students’ creativity and artistic sense, but focused on simple movements as did physical education. This type of dance education practice might have helped students’ physical health and diverse expressions but it failed to promote emotional and intellectual development (Society of Dance Education, 2003). In 1981, dance education highlighted rhythmic movements, traditional dances, and creative dances through the newly amended curriculum, and in 1987, movement and artistic aspects were strengthened in particular. The content highlighted the cognitive element, such as learning and then integrating the basic elements of movement in dance, perceiving the relationships between the elements of movement and dance, dancing with forms, and constructing the relationship between people and objects. In spite of dramatic developments in dance education, Korean dance education has tended to drift according to the socio-cultural trend (Kim, 1998). In addition, the educational aspect of dance education has been neglected. It is to be hoped that in future dance education in Korea will address (1) the potential of creativity, (2) the perception of self and society, (3) an interest in health, and (4) the understanding of indigenous and other cultures (Society of Dance Education, 2003).

Note 1. Chosun was the old name for Korea from 1392 to 1910.

Korea

References Kim, W. M. (1998). History of dance education in Korea. Seoul: Hanhak. Society of Dance Education (Ed.). (2003). What is dance education? Seoul: Hanhak. Song, S. N. (1998). History of Korean dance. Seoul: Kumkwang. Yong, M. R. (1994). Complete dance. Seoul: Korean Dance Education Society.

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INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 7.2 New Zealand

Ralph Buck University of Auckland, New Zealand

Ann Dils validates the important role that dance historians play in recording and analyzing dance education practices and events as important components of social history. As an Australian dance educator currently leading a tertiary dance studies program in New Zealand, and having researched dance education in New Zealand primary (elementary) schools, I recognize issues and histories outlined by Dils that are relevant on our side of the globe. In New Zealand public schools at present, dance education enjoys dual recognition in two curriculum areas through the documents, The Arts: in the New Zealand Curriculum (2000) and, Health and Physical Education in the New Zealand Curriculum (1999). Similar to the United States, within New Zealand, dance has been referred to in past and current physical education curricula. For example, the 1933 English Physical Training syllabus was taught in New Zealand up to the mid-1940s (Stothart, 1974). Stothart noted that the dance component of this syllabus was adapted to include folk dance for New Zealand children. Many physical educators trained in England brought Laban’s movement education to New Zealand (Smithells, 1974), but most came with Swedish Gymnastics and, more specifically, the Ling system of movement training, where the emphasis was upon posture and physical development (Burrows, 1999). In 1942 the Thomas Report on the New Zealand secondary school curriculum included physical education as a core component of the school curriculum (Stothart, 1974). In response to this all secondary schools received the English texts Recreation and Physical Fitness: for youths and men (Board of Education, 1937) and Recreation and Physical Fitness: for girls and women (Board of Education, 1937). The three-page dance chapter in the male’s book is limited to descriptions of set dances such as Morris dancing, and where dance “is a fundamental form of exercise” (p. 216). This makes for an interesting comparison with the female version, where dance is covered in depth for forty pages and describes a vast range of dance activity in great detail. For girls and women, “The first aim of dancing is to learn to move with ease and rhythm, to enjoy moving and to gain a sense of power over the body” (p. 155). 117 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 117–120. © 2007 Springer.

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In the 1950s the influence of Laban’s theories were found in syllabuses such as the Physical Education in the Primary School (The Department of Education and Science and The Central Office of Information, 1953). In this document, exploration of movement, singing games and national dances provided the focus. However, as male teachers returned to physical education teaching, sport performance and human movement measurement “sciences” overtook physical education. Dance became limited to folk and social dance. Learning steps and skills rather than problem solving and creativity was the focus (Burrows, 1999). The Arts in the New Zealand Curriculum (2000) included dance, drama, music, and visual arts and was mandated for implementation in all New Zealand primary schools from 2003 (Hong, 2001). The key rationale for the arts curriculum at large focuses upon “literacies in the arts” (Ministry of Education, 2000, p. 10); expression and communication; individual and community awareness; and, awareness of the functions the arts fulfil in societies and histories. Dance is stated as offering “a significant way of knowing, with a distinctive body of knowledge” (Ministry of Education, 2000, p. 19), and offers “personal” and “social” benefits through the development of confidence in physical expression. Also, “Dance in the NZ curriculum promotes the dance heritages of the diverse cultures within New Zealand” (Ministry of Education, 2000, p. 19). Further rationales noted that dance is a holistic experience “that links the mind, body and emotions” (Ministry of Education, 2000, p. 19) and note was taken of the importance of developing critical audiences and fostering students’ enthusiasm as viewers or creative participants. In summary, the New Zealand dance curriculum is focused upon developing: ● ● ●

Students’ literacy for engagement with dance practically or theoretically. Personal holistic knowledge of self. Knowledge of cultural and social diversity in New Zealand.

The curriculum has artistic and aesthetic concerns, yet is also orientated to personal development issues and sociopolitical issues specific to New Zealand. It is proposed that the study of dance may fulfill various educative and political functions, whereby the dance practice provides access to knowledge via artistic exploration, personal physical exploration and appreciation of diverse dance forms and functions. Around the world we find common historical threads, such as, Laban’s models, physical education and arts advocacy, and “training” and “education” debates and pedagogies. Tertiary dance education in New Zealand, as within the United States continues to wrestle with dance’s schizophrenic identities within “professional” training models and “humanistic” liberal arts education models. Today, dance education in New Zealand classrooms is informed by, the evolutionary influences of Rudolf Laban’s Modern Educational Dance model, Janet Adshead’s conception for the Study of Dance, Jacqueline Smith-Autard’s Midway model, The Getty Foundation’s Discipline Based Arts Education, Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences, somatic education and Tina Hong’s theories of dance literacy (Buck, 2003). Add to this melting pot the influence of cultural contexts and artistic practices. When the histories of dance education are noted and seen in conjunction with how dance education can study who we are, and therefore, reveal how we can alter meanings and constructions of who we are, we start to see the full impact of Hagood’s (2000)

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statement that, “[dance can] push back the boundaries of knowledge, forward the cultural legacy, and contribute to society” (p. 116, p. 319). As Dils advocated, and I agree, the more histories written from different perspectives, with different methodologies and focus, then the more likely it is that dance education can be valued for its contributions to society.

References Board of Education. (1937). Recreation and physical fitness: For girls and women. London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office. Board of Education. (1937). Recreation and physical fitness: For youths and men. London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office. Buck, R. (2003). Teachers and dance in the classroom: “So, do I need my tutu?” Unpublished PhD, University of Otago, Dunedin. Burrows, L. (1999). Developmental discourses in school physical education. Unpublished PhD, University of Wollongong, Wollongong. Department of Education and Science and the Central Office of Information. (1953). Physical education in the primary school: Planning the programme. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. Hagood, T. (2000). A history of dance in American higher education: Dance and the American university. Lewiston, NY: E. Mellen Press. Hong, T. (2001). Getting cinders to the ball. Physical Educator: Te Reo Kori Aotearoa, 3(1), 4–6. Ministry of Education New Zealand. (1999). Health and physical education in the New Zealand curriculum. Wellington: Learning Media. Ministry of Education New Zealand. (2000). The arts in the New Zealand curriculum. Wellington: Learning Media. Smithells, P. (1974). Physical education: Principles and philosophies. Auckland: Heinemann Educational Books. Stothart, R. (1974). The development of physical education in New Zealand. Auckland: Heinemann Educational Books.

8 THE TEACHING OF ENGLISH LANGUAGE ARTS AS POETIC LANGUAGE: AN INSTITUTIONALIST VIEW Alyson Whyte Auburn University, U.S.A.

Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to review historical, conceptual, and empirical research related to poetic language as English language arts teachers’ and their students’ mutual work. By poetic language I mean text that functions primarily as literature (i.e., as art).1 While poetic text can be graphic or multimodal, most research on poetic language as teachers’ and their students’ mutual work has focused on verbal texts: poetry; story; drama; and, more recently, creative nonfiction (e.g., nature essays, personal essays, and literary journalism). This chapter makes two claims: that for centuries strong pressures have worked against English teachers’ and their students’ mutual experience of poetic language and that a persistent countercurrent in the institutional and now in the technical environment of schools as organizations (Coburn, 2004) pressures English teachers toward fostering their students’ engagement in poetic language. This second norm is set to become a stronger pressure and a stronger attractant toward the teaching of poetic language in English language arts classrooms, depending on what outcome measures researchers select for use in national and international comparison-based studies of student achievement.

Historical, Conceptual, and Empirical Research on the Teaching of English Language Arts as Poetic Language Historians of education have described schooling of the general public as persistently requiring students to absorb and then recite information learned by rote. Conceptual, empirical, and prescriptive literature, however, indicate some pressures in twentieth- and twenty-first-century schools’ environments promote teachers’ and students’ experiencing 121 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 121–140. © 2007 Springer.

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poetic language. In the second, longer portion of this chapter, I review scholarship by Dewey and Rosenblatt and contemporary works by writing teachers such as Georgia Heard, Ralph Fletcher, and Joann Portalupi to describe these messages in schools’ and classrooms’ environment encouraging teaching to foster teachers’ and students’ mutual experience of poetic language. First, though, I review the historical literature on pressures in schools’ and classrooms’ environment that sustain teaching-as-replication.

Messages in Schools’ and Classrooms’ Institutional Environment Sustaining English Language Arts as Replication Research on children’s drawings (of teachers and of school) and on mass-produced representations of schooling documents that internationally teaching-as-replication is the predominant image of school practice (Barbieri, 2002; Weber & Mitchell, 1995/2000). Contemporary pressures toward teaching-as-replication stem from the nature of the modern nation state. Mass literacy instruction and the emergence of the modern nation state. Mass literacy instruction characterized the new nation states of the United States, France, and Italy beginning in the eighteenth century and the new nation state of Prussia as well as England and its colonies in the second half of the nineteenth century (Kaestle, 1983; Noether, 1951; Pflanze, 1990; Weber, 1976). The United States is the earliest instance of mass education in reading, memorization of texts, and spelling and handwriting aimed to foster a common national identity. The eighteenth-century mass literacy movement in the United States began in rural one-room schoolhouses and urban neighborhood schools where children brought to school whatever texts their families owned. In rural schoolhouses, “after children had learned the alphabet, they began memorizing words of one syllable and practicing vowel exercises like ‘ab, eb, ib, ob, ub, ac, ec, ic, oc, uc, ad, ed, id, od, ud’” (Kaestle, 1983, p. 16). Records of urban schools for children of the poor and near-poor and for what Kaestle (1983, p. 55) calls “the middling ranks” suggest literacy instruction there tended, as in rural schools, toward rote memorization and recitation. The English Lancasterian system for managing urban charity schools allowed early nineteenth-century educational reform societies in U.S. cities to expand the scale of their work. Quaker educators used this system almost universally in African Free Schools, despite complaints by African American parents about its mechanical nature. Lancasterian schools relied on nonsectarian moral instruction, highly specified manuals explaining procedures and lesson plans, and rewards for correct recitation, which moved individuals to the head of the class and then after three successful moves to the head of the class, to the next class. One schoolmaster could supervise as many as 500 children. Two senior student monitors occupied a raised platform, where monitors seated at the end of each row of students delivered reports of the results of recitations conducted in the aisle at the end of each row (Kaestle, 1983). Lancasterian schools had fallen out of favor in England and other early industrializing countries by 1840, but regimented schooling of students to “toe the line” continued: When

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Joseph Rice visited urban classrooms in the eastern United States to study the public high school at the beginning of the twentieth century, he described students expected to stand “perfectly motionless, their bodies erect, their knees and feet together, the tips of their shoes touching the edge of a board in the floor” (Rice, 1893, quoted in Brint, 1998, p. 145). Regimented, routinized approaches to socializing students, which Brint (1998) has described as characteristic of schools in newly industrializing, nation-building societies,2 can still be found, Brint contends, in many urban, working class schools (Anyon, 1980; Bowles & Gintis, 1976; Cookson & Persell, 1985, all cited in Brint 1998). The factorylike high school as the formal organizational context of English teaching. Two features of twentieth-century English teaching in the United States compatible with teaching-as-replication would be the graded school and the commercially published literature anthology, with its teacher’s edition of answers to questions published at the ends of the selections in the student editions (Squire, 2003). Both these developments were foreshadowed in the United States in 1836 by the first publication of the graded McGuffey readers, consisting of fragments and précis literature that was “decidedly moral, though not overtly religious” and patriotic, but “not as narrowly nationalistic as Webster’s [speller and reader] had been” (Applebee, 1974, p. 5). English language arts education as a school subject in consolidated systems of elementary and secondary schools would follow. By 1860, graded schools, with prescribed curriculum for each grade, were common in large U.S. cities. Before the Civil War in the United States (1861–1865), school reformers had accomplished the expansion of normal schools for teacher training and had established education journals, professional supervision of teachers, higher teacher wages, and use of uniform textbooks in many locations in the northern United States. Then following the Civil War, city school superintendents began to envision and establish clocklike school systems (Kaestle, 1983). Inkeles and Smith (1974) … classify as modern those personal qualities which are likely to be inculcated by participation in large-scale productive enterprises such as the factory, and perhaps more critical, which may be required of the workers and the staff if the factory is to operate efficiently and effectively. (p. 19) These authors state that like the factory as an institution, the compliance with routine procedures that fits workers and staff to factory work has no nationality. By 1879, the graded school, modeled after the factory, with prescribed curriculum for each grade, characterized nearly every school where there were enough pupils to sort into grades. Advocates of the graded school, prominent among them city and state superintendents of schools and school board leaders, Tyack and Cuban (1995) assert, “were impressed with the division of labor and hierarchical supervision common in factories” (p. 89). Tyack and Cuban state that these advocates of sorting students into grades that would receive uniform instruction sought an egalitarian kind of schooling for boys and girls, immigrant and native born. Administrators, typically male, divided the traditional curriculum – including reading, spelling, and writing – into required

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sequences tied to end-of-year tests and supervised teachers, typically female, to ensure they followed the prescribed courses of study (Tyack & Cuban, 1995, pp. 89–90). Through 1890, most of the states in the United States passed compulsory school attendance laws – but these laws were unenforced. By the early twentieth century, however, with the emergence of the first large, urban school bureaucracies, new technologies for enforcing compulsory school attendance laws arose together with decreased opposition to compulsory school attendance (Tyack, 1976). This “quiet but significant revolution … in the urban centers of the country” (MacDonald, 1999, p. 427) produced the institution of the high school organized into subject-area departments as the capstone of the urban school system, together with centralized teacherhiring processes, increased years of the formal education of teachers, and elaborated hierarchical supervision (Kaestle, 1983; MacDonald, 1999). The organizational form of the bureaucratized school system institutionalized the role of the teacher and students alike as compliant employees following administrative directives. In 1904, the superintendent of the Denver, Colorado, public schools would proclaim, “The independence of a teacher is limited …. It is comparable to the turning out of work by an industrial establishment” (Gove, 1904, cited in MacDonald, 1999, p. 428). By 1950, high schools with ten or fewer teachers were unusual. Numerous faculty members were therefore assigned to teach the same school subject, thereby institutionalizing “English” as a core subject and instituting the high school subject-area department. In 1911, the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) had formally organized in the United States, largely to contest rigid college entrance requirements (Squire, 2003). Through the end of the twentieth century, NCTE’s book lists for high school, junior high, and elementary schools aimed to advance wide reading by young people (Applebee, 1974). Continued emphasis by the College Entrance Examination Board (CEEB) on Scholastic Aptitude Tests, however, in determining college entrance requirements meant that at the same time teachers’ resources regarding reading material broadened, a themeper-week approach to teaching English “ossified” (Squire, 2003, p. 4) into formulaic five-paragraph essay writing, which privileges unity, coherence, and emphasis over quality of ideas and voice. Between 1907 and 1911, Professor Romiett Stevens found that over the course of New York City high students’ school days teachers asked an average of two to three questions per minute. The average number of questions students faced daily was 395. Using stenographic reports, Stevens calculated that teachers were talking 64 percent of class time. Many of the student responses she observed were brief, usually single words or short sentences (Cuban, 1993). In 1932, Dora V. Smith reported finding that in high school classes in New York (Smith, 1933, quoted in Dixon, 2003, p. 19) she saw “methods conditioned by desks nailed to the floor: … Question and answer procedures with the teacher in command, and recitation around the class of sentences written out at home the night before.” More students were conjugating English verbs in six tenses than participating in all other English language arts activities combined (Squire, 2003). These teachers told Smith of “fear under which they [the teachers] labor[ed] because of the requirements (real or imaginary) of the institutions higher up.” The result, Smith (quoted in Dixon, 2003, p. 19) reported, was “deadly and uninteresting routine.”

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Teaching-as-replication in bureaucratized school systems. The efforts of early twentieth-century urban school reformers to consolidate city schools into a few districts, each with a sovereign school board, catalyzed consolidation of schools and districts that continued well into the 1970s. Between 1940 and 1980, mean school enrollment in the United States increased from 142 to 440, and the mean number of school districts per state declined eightfold, from 2,437 to 330 (Meyer, Scott, Strang, & Creighton, 1994). During this period, empirical studies document the predominance nationwide of English teaching-as-replication. Squire and Applebee’s observations 1963–1966 of more than 1,600 English language arts classes at 158 schools, selected because of their reputedly outstanding programs in English, recorded that a large number of classes consisted mainly of lecture and recitation (Squire & Applebee, 1968, cited in Applebee, 1974). Moreover, in the lower tracks of these academically oriented schools much time was spent on worksheets completed by students working individually at their desks. Oakes’ (1985) analysis of data collected during 1977 in 25 junior and senior high schools across the United States (in 75 high-track classes, 85 middle-track classes, and 64 low-track classes, about evenly divided between English and math) documented a pattern that Gamoran and Carbonaro’s (2002) secondary analysis of the 1990 wave of the National Educational Longitudinal Survey (NELS) data documented yet again. Quoting Oakes, Gamoran and Carbonaro describe how the 1990 NELS data also showed … passive activities – listening to teachers, writing answers to questions, and taking tests – were dominant at all track levels. … opportunities students had in any group of classes to answer open-ended questions, to work in cooperative learning groups, to direct the classroom activity, or to make decisions about what happened in class were extremely limited. (Oakes, 1985, p. 129; Gamoran & Carbonaro, 2002, p. 6). Students in the high-track classes in the NELS sample, Gamoran and Carbonaro (2002) found, reported more student-led discussion and more use of oral reports than in lower tracks. But the use of these practices was not common in any track placement. Most research that provides descriptions of classrooms, Cuban (1993) states in his history of school practice in the United States (1890–1990), portrays the teacher as the authority who passes on required knowledge to students, who in turn are expected to take in and digest the knowledge, a process reinforced through the use of short-answer and multiple-choice tests (Cuban, 1988, cited in Eisner, 1994). This image of teaching-asreplication is a vestige of life centuries ago, Cuban (1993) states, “when men and women lived guided by a deep reverence for the accumulated wisdom of their elders” (p. 15). Expanding formalization and scale in U.S. public education (1940–1980), together with expanded monitoring of schooling through measures of student achievement linked to sanctions of schools and school systems, have made state and district organizational structures “agents at the disposal of a national culture, serving to bring each subunit into conformity with it,” state Meyer, Scott, Strang, and Creighton (1994, p. 204). Mass culture, in the United States and internationally, is replete with iconographic images of teaching-as-replication (Weber & Mitchell, 1995/2000).

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English Language Arts as the Experience of Poetic Language The intellectual heritage of teaching the experience of poetic language. Like the deep roots of teaching-as-replication in centuries of trusting the wisdom of elders (Cuban, 1993), the teaching of poetic language has ancient beginnings. In the West, together with the shift from classical Greek epic poems to the novel in literature (Bakhtin, 1981), the Stoic tradition that arose from the teachings of Heracl*tus, Socrates, and Plato (Abbs, 2003) foreshadowed autobiography as a form of poetic language. Augustine’s 397 C.E. hybrid classical and dramatic work Confessions marked the emergence of poetic language rendering the unique experience of a given writer (Abbs, 2003). Rousseau’s 1766–1770 Confessions, initial use of the term autobiography in 1807, many published autobiographies during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and Freud’s and Jung’s work during the twentieth century (Abbs, 2003) all fueled current worldwide emphasis on the individual (Scott & Meyer, 1994). “Education, for instance,” Scott and Meyer write, “has become worldwide” (Meyer, Ramirez, & Soysal, 1992, cited in Scott & Meyer, 1994, p. 210), and formal curricula worldwide “tend to emphasize the status of the individual student – very few curricula … take the older form of celebrating high sacred truths through ritual instruction” (Meyer, Kamens, Benavot, Cha, & Wong, 1992, cited in Scott & Meyer, 1994, p. 210). Thus at the same time that the institutional environment of schools encourages and rewards teaching-as-replication, that environment also pressures schools, and likely classrooms (Coburn, 2004), to attend to students as individuals, not only as recipients and replicators of information transmitted by the teacher. English language arts education during the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries has enacted two conceptually distinctive stances toward the student as negotiating meaning in response to or in the process of making poetic literature. One of these stances is what Eisner (1994) has defined as Rational Humanism. More prevalent has been the second stance: that of Progressivist curriculum ideology, which has become during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries the converging stances of Cognitive Pluralism and Critical Theory (Eisner, 1994) currently known, together, as multiliteracies or the new literacies. Rational Humanist English language arts teaching. Beginning during the late 1930s and 1940s, scholars in university English departments (Brooks and Warren, 1938 and Wellek & Warren, 1949, both cited in Squire, 2003) advised secondary school teachers to strengthen their literature teaching by focusing their attention directly on literary texts. Frye’s The Educated Imagination (1964, cited in Squire, 2003) was a later foundational publication advocating that teachers emphasize interrelationships of language and metaphor within texts. In secondary schools in the United States this emphasis on text, known as The New Criticism, became institutionalized during the 1960s, about the time when university departments were turning away from this exclusive concern with text. Placement exams awarding college credit for advanced performance had become established among elite colleges and private preparatory schools in the United States by the mid-1950s, and in 1955 the CEEB had begun offering Advanced Placement (AP) examinations in

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literature and other subjects. English literature has consistently been one of the most widely selected AP exams. The emphases in the examination are textual analysis and literary criticism on the model of the New Critics (Applebee, 1974; Dixon, 2003; Nelson & Kinneavy, 2003). During the 1930s to 1950s Hutchins and Adler developed and promoted the Great Books Program, which centered on study of texts considered the best that humans have written and employed a method of studying these texts that Adler, referring to the Greek word for midwife, called mieutic teaching (1982, cited in Eisner, 1994, p. 63). This approach to the experience of poetic literature sought to engage students in in-depth reasoning about the material they study. The teacher’s role is dialectic rather than didactic: to enable students to provide reasons for their opinions and evidence and counterarguments for views being expressed by the students as a group. In the case of poetic literature, this approach seeks for students to grasp the unity of a whole work and its elements by “becoming at home in the world in which [the imaginative writer’s] characters ‘live, move, and have their being’. … becom[ing] a member of its population, willing to befriend its characters, and able to participate in its happenings by a sympathetic insight, as you would do in the actions and sufferings of a friend” (Adler 1940/1972, p. 211). Probst’s analysis of theories of literary response (1988, cited in Marzano, 2003) emphasizes that – in contrast to Rosenblatt’s transactional approach, reflecting neoProgressivist ideology, reviewed in the following section of this chapter – Rational Humanist teaching of poetic literature, while seeking entry by the reader into the world of the text, subordinates the reader to the text. Great Books Training for teachers and face-to-face and online discussion groups are available today. Eisner (1994) has suggested that a niche in schools where Rational Humanist teaching is likely to flourish is in private schools serving social and economic elites. As noted previously, AP courses, an elite track in U.S. high schools, constitute a niche where Rational Humanist teaching fits the nature of subsequent examinations students may take in pursuit of units of college credit. The American Progressivist movement in English language arts teaching through the mid-twentieth century. The thinker and writer who has most forcefully expressed Progressivist curriculum ideology, Eisner (1994) has stated, is Dewey. Dewey’s philosophy and writings, Eisner writes (p. 67), can be understood as two “related but distinguishable streams [of thought], one rooted in a conception of the nature of human experience and intelligence, the other in social reform.” Dewey conceived of the human being as a growing organism whose main developmental task is to iteratively come to terms with the environment in which he or she lives. The implication of this concept for school practice is that the teacher’s task is to construct educational situations (Dewey, 1902, cited in Eisner, 1994), through which the student becomes able to deal with ever more complex and demanding problems. Through this process the student’s competence and intelligence grow (Eisner, 1994). Applebee (1974) has described how Dewey’s early (1900, 1902/1990) writings contributed to U.S. English teachers at the turn of the twentieth century countering lists of literature selections stipulated as requirements for college entrance examinations with recommendations of their own. The Committee of Ten appointed by the National

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Council of Education of the National Education Association (NEA) in 1892 and the National Conference on Uniform Entrance Requirements in English in 1894 had institutionalized the high school subject of “English” as the study of literature, especially by major English writers, combined with the teaching of essential grammatical skills (Applebee, 1974). Accompanying that formal definition of English as a high school subject leading to college entrance examinations were lists of revered adult texts approved for study in preparation for those exams. These texts, though remote from the lives of most high school students, determined the curriculum of high school English because they were the basis for college entrance examinations. Further, an 1899 report from the NEA’s Committee on College Entrance Requirements declared there should be no differentiation of terminal high school from college preparatory English coursework (Applebee, 1974). During the first half of the twentieth century, only incremental change toward a literature curriculum for the new figure of the adolescent reader (Bartholomae, 1990) occurred, however. For example, when the National Joint Committee of English – consisting mainly of secondary school rather than college members, in contrast to the earlier committees – made its final report in 1917, the report proclaimed the independence of the high school and rejected the principle that college preparation was the best preparation for all students’ lives after high school graduation. Then in its lists of works to be studied as common, whole-class readings and as individual reading, however, the committee selected most of the same titles as the earlier college entrance examination lists. As a new pressure, or invitation, in the institutional environment of schools and classrooms, this report declared a shift in the goals of English teaching from emphasis on “excellence of style … to value of content and power to arouse interest” and from formal disciplinary learning to emphasis on instruction that is “social in content and social in method of acquirement” (Applebee, 1974, p. 66). But the report did not alter the materials recommended to attain these new, Progressivist goals. Moreover, in the messages to English teachers conveyed by this Progressivist document, there was not yet any sense of what Abbs (2004, p. 57, 54) has called the aesthetic field: the “living tradition and a repertoire of techniques and exemplars or a language for discussing the intrinsic elements of art.” Without thorough, experiential awareness of the living discipline of poetic language as an art, the English teacher cannot wed students’ engagement in artistic problems with the resources of the culture that the teacher’s and students’ repertoires in the art form(s) can provide. Dewey (1938/1973) alluded to this gap between Progressivist philosophy and school practice in that he countered the misconception of Progressive education as abandoning, or marginalizing, subject matter. Presently, English language arts leaders adept at Progressivist practice have articulated a collective understanding of ways of invoking the aesthetic field of poetic texts. Without widespread understanding of this tenet of Progressivist practice, what displaced exclusive emphasis on expository writing in English classrooms in the United States and many other parts of the world through Dewey’s influence for most of the twentieth century was some emphasis on self-expression (Nelson & Kinneavy, 2003). That is to say, English language arts practice labeled Progressive emphasized self-expression by students more than it inducted young readers and writers into the aesthetic field of poetic language.

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The second stream within Dewey’s philosophy and American Progressivism conceived of the organization of the school as exemplifying education in the problems of living together for all in the microsociety of the school (i.e., the school as a microcosm of the wider society of the nation) (Applebee, 1974). In English classrooms, this stream of Deweyan Progressivism resulted in greater emphasis on the teaching of drama – as self-expression and also to promote the growth of intelligence and the social goals of cooperation and groupwork – during the years before World War I (Applebee, 1974). Drama as a way of experiencing literature would reemerge in late twentieth-century Cognitive Pluralist research on engaging students as readers (e.g., Wilhelm, 1997). This recent research is reviewed in the section below on Cognitive Pluralism and Critical Theory as stances toward English teaching. After the height of implementation of practices labeled Progressive, approximately from the late 1920s through the 1940s (Eisner, 1994), Progressivist pedagogy became the target of vigorous public criticism in the United States during the late 1940s and the 1950s. In the context of the onset of the Cold War and the Soviet launching of Sputnik during the 1950s, concerns burgeoned in the United States about Progressivist approaches to teaching English language arts, such as permitting students to choose what they would read and what topics they would write about (Applebee, 1974; Dixon, 2003). The antiProgressivist environment of schools as organizations at the mid-twentieth century resulted in both elementary and secondary schools gravitating toward what Fogarty (1959, cited in Nelson & Kinneavy, 2003) has termed the current traditional approach to teaching writing: … focusing instruction on arrangement and style, emphasizing mechanical correctness instead of rhetorical effectiveness, assigning topics for writing, stressing paragraph development, and teaching students about some abstract qualities of writing, such as unity and coherence. (Nelson & Kinneavy 2003, p. 789) This approach to teaching writing is consistent with teaching-as-replication. Currenttraditional writing instruction disregards virtually all aspects of writing that cannot be translated into algorithms that the teacher trains students to employ when they write. Through the mid-twentieth century, English language arts was only marginally affected by Progressivist ideas, especially at the high school level, where “English,” not “language arts” (the preferred term at the elementary school level) generally consisted of routinized teaching of poetic language as art history and of conventions of standard academic syntax, mechanics, and word usage (Applebee, 1974; Dixon, 2003; Squire, 2003). These norms for practice were enforced by “local insistence upon the more formal elements of instruction” (Applebee, 1974, quoted in Dixon, 2003, p. 19) and also by college entrance examinations on set texts through the 1930s (Dixon, 2003). An important symbolic event during the first half of the twentieth century toward the teaching of English language arts as poetic language in the United States was the publication in 1935 of An Experience Curriculum in English by the NCTE Commission on the Curriculum (Applebee, 1974). The report recommended abandoning formal grammar instruction, except as an elective for high school seniors, and a curriculum based on “selected experiences,” each unit forming an “organic whole” (Hatfield, 1935, quoted

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in Dixon, 2003). Most classrooms at the time were not affected by this Progressive manifesto. In the historical context of the Great Depression, Dixon (2003, p. 19) argues, “clinging” to the “recognizable results” of success on college entry tests may have occurred. The English teachers of the time had been educated in linguistic features of the English language taught in a way modeled on the study of the classical languages. And local institutional environments contained few Progressivist messages and many messages to schools legitimizing grammar and didactic literature instruction. Not until decades later, during the late 1960s, would the countercurrent to English teaching-asreplication that formed during the 1920s-1940s recur (Dixon, 2003). Rosenblatt as the bridge from early Progressivism to neoProgressivist practice. Beginning during the early 1960s (Squire, 1964, cited in Squire, 2003), earlier work on readers’ responses to literature by Richards (1929, cited in Squire) and Rosenblatt (1938/1976) influenced researchers. As Hall states in her chapter in this handbook, Rosenblatt argues for evocation: the organic, lived-through experience of merging with poetic language possible only when an aesthetic stance toward poetic text, entailed in immersion in the story world of the poetic text, rather than an efferent, or information-seeking, stance is taken. Rosenblatt described how teaching-asreplication undermines the possibility of reader response: … the techniques of the usual English classroom tend to hurry past … active creation and re-creation of the text. The pupil is, instead, rushed into peripheral concerns. How many times youngsters read poems or stories or plays trying to memorize as many random details as possible because such “facts” will be the teacher’s means for testing – in multiple-answer questions – whether they have read the work! Or students will read with only half a mind and spirit, knowing this is sufficient to fill in the requirements of a routine book report: summarize the plot, identify the principal characters, describe the setting, … the search for meaning is reduced too often to paraphrase … while the analysis of techniques becomes a preoccupation with recognizing devices …. (Rosenblatt 1938/1976, p. 285) The experience of poetic text, in contrast, leads the young reader “to learn how to enter through the printed page into the whole culture surrounding him” (Rosenblatt 1938/ 1976, p. 284). To foster that experience of poetic text, the English language arts teacher “[i]nstead of hurrying the youngster into impersonal and so-called objective formulations as quickly as possible, … makes the classroom a place for critical sharing of personal responses” (Rosenblatt 1938/1976, p. 286). Rosenblatt explained how students’ experience of literature can take place through educational situations by applying Dewey’s (1934/1980) philosophy of art as experience to the subject area of English language arts. She argued that no currently popular way of using literature – to increase social awareness, convey worthwhile information, or develop students’ awareness of literary form – was likely to lead to an “intimate personal response” to poetic language (p. 70, cited in Applebee, 1974). Cultivating such responses was more complex, Rosenblatt argued, than any approach teachers were accustomed to taking. Rosenblatt contended that it is the response of the student, not the content of the poetic text, that must be the object of the teacher’s

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attention and that the teacher must respond to students in a way that invites them to question, refine, or extend their previous responses to texts. What emerges, in this characterization of Rosenblatt’s approach that Applebee (1974) has provided, is “the picture of quiet discussion, ‘a friendly group, come together to exchange ideas.’ ” (Rosenblatt 1938, p. 83, quoted in Applebee, 1974, p. 124). Rosenblatt terms the entry into the text and consequent evocation of the text by the reader a transaction between the reader and the text. By the late 1960s, concern with the response of the reader began to surface widely in U.S. schools as a reaction against the formalism of midcentury reforms of English teaching (Squire & Applebee, 1968, cited in Squire, 2003). Carlsen’s Books and the Teen-Age Reader (1967) was landmark scholarly research on young adults’ specific reading interests and on patterns in teenagers’ progression in their preferred reading through increasingly literary genres. Carlsen’s book went into three editions and was read by parents, teachers, and librarians (Abrahamson, 2004). Publication by Rosenblatt of a second work on reader response in 1987 and major research publications (Beach, 1993; Cooper, 1982; Farrell & Squire, 1990; and Purves & Beach, 1972, all cited in Squire, 2003), Squire states, focused teachers on the response of students as readers in relation to literary texts. Presently, Young Adult (YA) fiction – which features adolescent protagonists, aims at the young adult market, generally stays within a length of 200 pages or less (Small, 1992, cited in Milner & Milner, 1999), and “possesses literary distinction” (Milner & Milner, 1999, p. 197) – is a large category of trade books for purchase by individuals and schools. Kaywell (1993) and Herz (1996) are two YA specialists who have described ways of integrating YA literature into teaching canonical literature as poetic language. In 1966, bridging a separation between English language arts researchers in the United States and in Britain, 50 British and U.S. scholars gathered at the AngloAmerican Dartmouth Conference at Dartmouth, New Hampshire. In Britain, the philosophy of the London group (i.e., leaders from the London Institute of Education, including James Britton) that writing can transform learning was gaining ascendancy over the philosophy of the literary critics known as the Cambridge school (Squire, 2003). Britton and Chorney (1991, cited in Smith & Stock, 2003) describe the Dartmouth conference as having set the stage for a unifying theory of the subject of English language arts, replacing a view of English that focused on products with a view that focused on process and replacing a sense of the learner as a passive receiver (teaching-as-replication) with a recognition of learning as an activity to be pursued. The teaching of writing in the United States during the late twentieth century was strongly affected by empirical research. In 1961 an NCTE committee reviewing research in written composition found only five studies among hundreds that met most of their criteria for research design (Applebee, 1974). Fifteen years later, in the mid-1970s, university research on writing and network activity among teachers to improve the teaching of writing were proliferating. During the late 1960s and especially during the early 1970s, researchers (e.g., Emig, 1971; Britton, 1975) and practitioners (e.g., Elbow, 1973; Koch, 1973/1990; Macrorie, 1970; Moffett, 1968; Murray 1968/1984/2004) were framing the teaching of writing conceptually as a process, or mode of learning, rather than “merely a modality for reporting learning” (McDonald, Buchanan, and Sterling, 2004, p. 94). During the 1970s and early 1980s, extensive research on writers’ cognitive

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processes occurred (e.g., Flower & Hayes, 1981; Hayes & Flower, 1980, cited in Sperling and Freedman, 2001; Shaughnessy, 1977; Sommers, 1980). These studies focused on transactional1 more than on poetic writing, however, and usually focused on writers creating verbal texts in their native language and at the college level (Sperling & Freedman, 2001). Through state, foundation, and then federal funding, the Bay Area Writing Project, founded in 1973–1974 by James Gray at the University of California, Berkeley, became the National Writing Project (NWP), a vast network (presently in all 50 United States and historically international, together with the British National Writing Project) of teachers who write, who make their practice visible for collegial review, and who attend to students’ writing lives across the school subject areas from kindergarten through college (McDonald et al., 2004). Across the NWP’s history, the network’s members have tended to emphasize poetic writing more than predominantly transactional writing (Greene, 1995). During the NWP’s early years, only rarely (e.g., Ponsot & Deen, 19823) did NWP teachers who wrote widely read books on particular methods for teaching writing focus mainly on transactional writing. During the 1980s United States researchers published studies of students’ learning in elementary classrooms (Calkins, 1983, 1986/1994; Graves, 1983) that were organized to nurture not only the kinds of individual thinking cognitive-processes researchers (e.g., Flower, 1979; Sommers, 1980) had documented among expert young adult writers but also high-quality interaction among writers and readers in response to poetic text. Perl and Wilson (1986/1998) studied such classrooms across elementary, middle, and high school in a district where a high proportion of teachers had been inducted into the NWP. In general, though, what was labeled “writing process” teaching (Applebee, 1986, cited in Sperling & Freedman, 2001) in United States secondary school was “mechanical” (Applebee, 1981, p. 101): teachers typically formularized tasks for students and evaluated student writing for compliance with the formulae for producing satisfactory texts. The conceptual and empirical literature on writing generated during the late 1980s and 1990s (e.g., Brandt, 1992 and Flower, 1989, both cited in Sperling & Freedman, 2001; Flower, 1994) focused on sociocognitive and sociocultural aspects of diverse writers across diverse contexts for writing, inside and outside of school (Nystrand, 2006; Sperling & Freedman, 2001). Literature on the teaching of writing by practitioners, which also remained active during this period, therefore focused more on the particular setting of the English language arts or elementary classroom than did general scholarly literature on writing. At the same time as the middle school reform movement, Atwell (1987, 1998, 2002), Rief (1992, and Rief & Barbieri, 1995), and Calkins (1986/1994) published widely read books on organizing the elementary and middle school English language arts classroom to promote high-quality talk about poetic qualities and features of text (e.g., Kaufman, 2000). During the past decade, widely read books for practitioners (e.g., Fletcher & Portalupi, 1998; Fletcher & Portalupi, 2001; Heard, 1999; Ostrum, Bishop, & Haake, 2001; Portalupi & Fletcher, 1998) have articulated how the English language arts (or writing) teacher and his or her students can learn aspects of the craft of writing in the environment of the elementary, middle school, or university classroom organized like an artist’s studio (Kirby & Kuykendall, 1991) rather than like a factory assembly line.

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Cognitive Pluralism and Critical Theory as stances toward English language arts teaching. Cognitive Pluralist educational ideology emphasizes that the graphic and lively arts, as available symbol systems, can and should be used to teach English language arts. Perhaps the earliest instance of a formal educational organization with a Cognitive Pluralist (Eisner, 1994) orientation to the teaching of English language arts was the Teachers College, Columbia University, Center for English Communication Arts, established during the 1940s and 1950s to apply the philosophy of art of Suzanne Langer (1942, cited in Squire, 2003) and the multimedia theories of Marshall McLuhan (1964, cited in Squire, 2003). This center not only generated research but trained school administrators, teacher educators, and research professors (Squire, 2003). In contrast to the Anglo-American Dartmouth Seminar, which sought to develop a unifying concept of English language arts as a school subject, in 1987 at the English Coalition Conference at the Wye Plantation in rural Maryland, U.S.A., 60 English language arts scholars convened to “chart [plural] directions for the study of English in the 21st century” (Smith & Stock, 2003, p. 114). The participants at the Wye Conference articulated such goals as making critical literacy possible for all students, enabling students to use language to articulate their own points of view, and encouraging students to respect different points of view (Smith & Stock, 2003). Arising from research interest in out-of-school as well as in-school literacies (Kist, 2005), the idea of multiliteracies, associated with New Literacy scholars such as the New London Group (1996) and Brian Street (1995) (both cited in Kist, 2005), addresses the interest of cognitive pluralist educators in students’ access to expression in multiple symbolic systems (e.g., Greene, 1995, cited inAlbers, 2006; Myers, 1996 and Suhor, 1992, both cited in Whitin, 2006) and the interest of educators whose ideology reflects Critical Theory in ameliorating ways that schooling reproduces inequalities in the wider society (Eisner, 1994). Wagner (1998) has reviewed the large body of research on drama and English language arts learning, and researchers such as Wilhelm (1997), Enciso (1990, cited in Wilhelm, 1997), and Whitelaw and Wolf (2001) (see also Edmiston & Enciso, 2003) have studied and documented how through nondiscursive means of experiencing poetic text, readers can engage emotionally and intellectually (Guthrie & Alvermann, 1999) with print text – including young readers who identify themselves as not liking to read. Kist (2005) conducted an empirical study of six settings where English and other subject area teachers in Canada and the United States were pursuing teaching through new literacies.4 Kist defined classrooms using new literacies as classrooms where students work daily using multiple forms of representation; there are explicit discussions of the merits of using certain symbol systems in certain situations with much choice; the teacher models working through problems, providing metadialogue; students, working in certain symbol systems, take part in a mix of individual and collaborative tasks; and students report achieving intellectual and emotional engagement in their work (p. 16). Claggett (1992), Gilmore (1999), and Smagorinsky (2002) have described approaches to English language arts teaching that integrate graphic and verbal representation. Albers (2006), Salvio (1999, cited in Edmiston & Enciso, 2003), and Whitin (2006) have described ways teacher education can emphasize the multimodal. Sanders-Bustle (2003) has published an edited volume of approaches to teaching, including literacy teaching, through multiple symbolic systems and with a strong focus

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on social justice. Ethnographic research by Valde´s (2001) and Hynds (1997) illustrates how school practice can reproduce inequalities in the wider society, however, regardless of whether English is approached as the experience of poetic language. Valde´s case studies of four students’ English as a Second Language placements in U.S. schools document the reproduction of inequalities in the wider society – regardless of one instance of the organization of the writing classroom to foster growth in writing as text with poetic as well as formulaic qualities. Hynds’ (1997) ethnographic research on race and gender issues beneath the surface of interactions in an urban middle school classroom conveys the importance in this setting of the teacher becoming a fellow writer with her students, student choice, and multimodal teaching for students’engagement with text as poetic language as well as the problem of attempted neutrality toward social and cultural issues such as race, gender, perceived academic ability, and social class.

The Current Technical Environment of English Language Arts Teaching In the technical environment of U.S. schools and school systems, increased testing began during the 1960s and 1970s (Squire, 2003). By the early 1980s, district, state, and national accountability systems for monitoring student achievement on reading skills tests were in place in 48 of the 50 U.S. states (Valencia & Pearson, 1987, cited in Squire, 2003). Student writing samples were assessed in two-thirds of these states (Applebee, Langer, & Mullis, 1986, cited in Squire, 2003). During the 1990s, Dixon states, Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom suffered economic setbacks that made them, in effect, “dependent economies, relying on multinational firms to bring in new capital and enterprise” (Dixon, 2003, p. 22). Such business enterprises seek locations where large supplies of potential employees have the profile of credentials indicating skills and demeanor that school certificates document; thus pressures to decrease the cost of public education and pressures to produce large numbers of graduates, especially with math and science skills demonstrated through cross-national comparisons as being higher than that in other countries, are simultaneously present (Carnoy, 2000). Through the 1970s, early institutional theorists argued, schools exemplified institutional-sector organization: core operations were uninspected while the credentials of teachers were carefully monitored. During this time the relationship between school administration and classroom practice and the legitimacy of the school both depended on isomorphism in a particular school’s external features with the class of organizations known as schools (Coburn, 2004; Weick, 1976). During the 1980s through the present, however, as a population of organizations, schools have shifted markedly toward being in the technical rather than institutional sector of organizations. Technical-sector organizations can be recognized through demands in the organizations’ environment for efficiency: Inspection of the core operations (i.e., quality control) of technical-sector organizations rewards these organizations for efficient production (Coburn, 2004). In the case of schools as a type of organization, the technical environment of the school rewards the efficient production of high, or increasingly high, standardized test scores.

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The new emphasis on measuring and comparing school outcomes across countries and within countries has been pursued by international organizations such as the International Association for Evaluation of Educational Achievement (IEA), the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), and the World Bank. These organizations share, in Carnoy’s (2000, p. 56) words, “an explicit understanding that ‘better’ education can be measured and that better education translates directly into higher economic and social productivity.” Carnoy claims, however, that there is more political and financial space for nation states to condition the way globalization is brought into public education than is generally recognized. Messages in classrooms’ and schools’ institutional environments suggesting national interests counter to efficiency through routinization of school practice include France’s recently instituted drive for “student autonomy” and “local flexibility,” the Netherlands’ similar proclamation, and Japan’s urging education to pursue “personal and creative self-realization” (Dixon, 2003). As of the 1990s, Dixon writes (2003), in England and Wales educational outcomes were being measured at ages 7, 11, 13, and 16, the results reported in tabular form for individual schools. In the United States, where each of the states has its own policy for testing English language arts, Hillocks (2002) has studied several different states’ policies for the testing of writing. State contexts pressed teachers toward formularizing writing instruction (teaching-as-replication) in some states compared to others where policy pressed teachers toward more authentic teaching of writing, including poetic writing. What is known as the process-writing movement was validated (Pritchard & Honeycutt, 2006) during the 1990s by the National Assessment of Educational Progress conducted by the U.S. government. Researchers have held various views of what this approach to teaching writing entails, from definitions that include routine production of a first and final draft to definitions that stipulate the embeddedness of craft (strategy and skill) instruction in an environment that cultivates writers’ problem-solving. Nevertheless, between the late 1980s and the present, empirical research has accrued that has found process-oriented approaches to writing instruction more productive than current-traditional approaches. Outcome measures have included measures of students’ attitudes and dispositions toward writing as well as measures of students’ achievement in writing (Pritchard & Honeycutt, 2006). Pritchard and Honeycutt link the origins and expansion of process-oriented methods for teaching writing to the Bay Area Writing Project, now the NWP. In a review of empirical studies of induction into the NWP, teachers’ and their school colleagues’ practices, and student achievement, Pritchard & Honeycutt (2006) point out that the NWP “eschews a singular formula for teaching writing” (Friedrich & LeMahieu, 2004, quoted in Pritchard & Honeycutt, 2006, p. 282). The particular classroom practices characteristic of NWP-affiliated teachers have accrued over the three decades of the NWP’s history, from ways of teaching prewriting during the early years of the NWP to the use of scoring rubrics and portfolio assessment and ways of incorporating writing across the curriculum during the NWP’s later years. Now practices becoming more widespread through the NWP network include electronically mediated ways of writing and ways of teaching writing appropriate for special populations. In the growing body of literature on the NWP’s effects, main results in published statistical studies have favored the NWP approach to teaching writing over traditional

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approaches (Pritchard & Honeycutt, 2006). Further, in 2004 the NWP launched a multiyear research agenda, through which consortia of researchers studied NWP and comparison teachers’ practices and their students’ gains in achievement in writing 2003–2004 and 2004–2005. The 2004–2005 consortium adopted scoring procedures sensitive to features of writing as poetic language. That is, participating students’ writings were scored holistically and for voice, syntactic fluency, and diction as well as for unity and for compliance with conventions for sentence structure, word usage, and mechanics. These studies permit discussion of how the teaching of writing as replication compares to more aesthetically grounded teaching of writing in the efficiency of these contrasting approaches in producing gains in achievement in writing (e.g., National Writing Project, 2006). Provided that government arbiters selecting proficiency tests choose measures that are even somewhat sensitive to the aesthetic qualities of students’ experience and writing of poetic language, schools’ and classrooms’ technical environment is likely to press, and also invite, schools and teachers toward approaching the school subject of English as an art, comprising elements of craft, rather than as an assortment of atomistic, routine tasks (Olshansky, 2006).

Future Research and Practice Few studies have attended to how readers and writers of poetic language make the transition from novice to expert in the sociocognitive and sociocultural context of this development. Longitudinal studies of the development of students’ poetic reading and writing – attending to the sociocognitive and sociocultural context of this development and incorporating nondiscursive as well as discursive indicators of the experience of poetic language – can improve understanding of how students’ poetic imagination and repertoires can develop through school practice. Given current incentives for researchers to conduct comparison-based studies of instructional procedures and student achievement, how sensitive the achievement measures used by researchers employing these designs are to students’ achievement in reading and writing as poetic language (including in multimodal forms), rather than only to achievement in English language arts as replication, will be important. In the United States, where school systems’ access to federal funds is tied to the adoption of methods found effective through comparison-based research, the achievement measures employed in these studies will affect teachers’ formal authority to educate students as connoisseurs and practitioners of poetic language.

Notes 1. Britton (1970) distinguished among the cognitive processes and social contexts (Sperling & Freedman, 2001) of three functions of writing: poetic, transactional, and expressive. In contrast to poetic writing, transactional writing serves to accomplish some exchange or negotiation and provides information. Transactional writing includes, for example, essays written to demonstrate having apprehended course content, legal documents, and reports. Expressive writing is writing with formal conventions for global and syntactic form relaxed (e.g., as in a journal or diary) and allows exploration by the writer much as

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informal talk would. Research on the teaching of literature has more fully inquired into the teaching of poetic language than has research on the teaching of writing. Research on the teaching of writing has focused mainly on transactional rather than poetic or expressive writing (Sperling & Freedman, 2001). 2. The enacted form of schooling, Brint (1998) suggests, has more to do with the degree to which a nation has become industrialized than with the symbolic features of formal curriculum. Brint describes how the same emphasis on behavioral conformity and moralism found in nineteenth century schools in the United States can be found today in industrializing parts of the world. Brint states that in slow-industrializing countries, in contrast to the United States and England, mass schooling preceded industrialization and socialization of children took a different path, at first, than the industrializing pattern of strict behavioral control and moral instruction (e.g., Pestalozzi’s approach in Switzerland and Germany during the early 1800s to activating children’s interest in learning). 3. In the instance of Ponsot and Deen’s teaching of transactional writing to inexperienced college writers, these NWP teachers emphasized experience of aesthetic aspects of students’ and their classmates’ transactional writing. 4. Multiple literacies were incorporated into formal curriculum in Canada earlier than in the United States (Willinsky, 2004). In the United States the NCTE Executive Committee approved a position statement by its Multi-Modal Literacies Issue Management Team in 2005 declaring the need for English language arts teachers to become more informed about multimodal literacy (NCTE, 2005).

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Section 2 CURRICULUM Section Editor: Susan W. Stinson

PRELUDE 9 MAKING SENSE OF CURRICULUM RESEARCH IN ARTS EDUCATION Susan W. Stinson University of North Carolina at Greensboro, U.S.A.

When I was a child in an elementary school with no art education, map-making was an opportunity to explore different media. While sculpting mountains out of a salt/flour/water mixture, carving rivers, and drawing symbols for cities, I also imagined myself traveling to the lands I was representing. For my teachers, of course, the purpose of making and reading maps was to learn geography and social studies. National and world maps were common décor in our classrooms; different states in the United States and different countries were indicated by distinct colors, with clear black lines showing the boundaries between them. Puzzles and other games, as well as our own map-making, helped us recognize the shapes and other features of these political units so that we could eventually label them on tests. In those days, fixed and clear boundaries seemed a given in many parts of our lives. Today, of course, maps are constantly changing and other boundaries seem a matter for constant negotiation as we try to determine who and what will be included and excluded. Similarly, determining boundaries has been a challenge for all authors of the Handbook, including those in this section. The boundary issues have been reflected in many of the questions that circulated through the cyber-process of this project: “What counts as research?” “What educational research is not about curriculum?” “How can one adequately contextualize this research without describing its history, which is a separate section of the Handbook?” “How far back should I go?” “How can I cover this topic completely within the word limit – what gets left out?” Readers will undoubtedly notice that these questions have been answered differently within each chapter in this section. The task implicitly set for authors was both academic and aesthetic: to review scholarly literature within a specific area of inquiry, and then to make a meaningful whole out of what they found. The structures selected by the authors create forms in which they have explored the content of curriculum research in their discipline or area of inquiry. Successive drafts not only made minor adjustments to boundaries (fueled by the reviewing process, which often included suggestions of additional sources), but also refined the cohesiveness and clarity of each 143 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 143–146. © 2007 Springer.

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chapter. In the process, every author in this section had to cope with the question, What is curriculum research in arts education? The history of curriculum, even if it were restricted to only the United States,1 is far too complex to do justice to here. I can present an overview only with the realization that such a picture is a construction, not simply a factual account. The most traditional understanding of curriculum, likely held by the majority of individuals other than curriculum scholars, is simply the course content. When I began taking education courses in the late 1960s, I recall learning about two strands of the curriculum, the content (what students are taught) and the methodology (how they are taught). Once attempting to apply my limited dance education knowledge to practice, I very quickly realized the significance of a third: the students. After taking classes in human development, I naively thought my own education would be complete and I would be prepared to be a good teacher. Indeed, I taught for many years before starting to seek something more. That “something more” is often labeled curriculum studies, a field which is broad in scope and interdisciplinary in nature. Although perspectives from the humanities and social sciences have been essential in developing inquiry in this field, arts educators have also made their mark. Elliott Eisner (2005) may be the best known example, although the editor of this Handbook, Liora Bresler, represents the next generation of artists/arts educators-turned curriculum scholars. Researchers in curriculum studies often engage in theory-building, asking major philosophical questions such as “What’s worth knowing?”, “Who decides?”, and “In whose interest?”2 While these scholars may gather empirical data as well, they normally engage in analysis of that data using postpositivist lenses ranging from phenomenology to critical social theory (see Lather, 1991). Recognition of the significance of aesthetic decisions and embodied experience in conducting research may be among the greatest contributions of the arts to this work (see, e.g. Barone & Eisner, 1997; Bresler, 2005; Cahnmann, 2003; Eisner, 1993, 1997; Stinson, 1995; articles in the journal Qualitative Inquiry). At the same time that researchers in curriculum studies have been grappling with the “big questions,” researchers from other curriculum traditions have been trying to get yes or no answers to different ones, usually related to the effectiveness of particular arts education practices in accomplishing stated goals. Such questions imply a need for different methodological approaches. In the United States the federal government has changed funding requirements to support only “scientifically based research” in education (see Jacob & White, 2002). Such research is avidly sought by arts advocates to support claims about the value of arts education in improving student-learning in other areas of the curriculum (see Deasey, 2002). The research included in the various chapters of this section is reflective of the range of work in the different arts education areas as well as the aesthetic choices of the authors. Several authors, from John Dewey (1934) to William Pinar (2004), refer specifically to curriculum scholars from outside arts education. Donald BlumenfeldJones looks at literature in dance curriculum through the lens created by his current work as a scholar in curriculum studies, as well as his first career as a professional dancer; the chapter he wrote with Sheaun-Yann Liang, organized around different research aims, reflects this dual perspective. Examining visual arts education, authors

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Rita Irwin and Graeme Chalmers structure their chapter around two interpretations of curriculum, which they call curriculum as plan (experiencing the visual) and curriculum as lived (visualizing experience). Janet Barrett also makes the connection between music education and curriculum studies when she notes that the foundations of music education include philosophy, psychology, and historical studies, with additional perspectives from sociology, ethnomusicology, and qualitative research. Frede Nielsen, writing about Didaktik and Bildung, describes what might be considered a European version of curriculum studies. A number of the authors create a developmental/historical model, identifying themes and changes over time in what has been considered important in their area of arts education. The chapters by Irwin and Chalmers, Barrett, and Nielsen take this approach. John O’Toole and Jo O’Mara do so as well, revealing how major themes in drama curriculum have developed over time. Lynn Butler-Kisber, Yi Li, Jean Clandinin, and Pamela Markus examine historical trends in the development of narrative, as well as the emerging role of narrative in visual arts, music, and drama curriculum research. Looking historically at trends in both arts education curriculum and in research raises questions about the relationship between research and practice, questions which are not directly addressed by most authors. To what extent does practice in arts education drive research and to what extent does research inform practice? Eve Harwood, in her chapter on arts curriculum research across all the arts within higher education, writes that changes in practice are ahead of research on the effects of such practices. Within a boundary of the past 25 years, the questions she uses as an organizational framework include two classic ones for curriculum research: Who is being taught and what do they experience? What is the content of instruction and who decides? As an editor, I found the third question raised in the chapter especially fascinating: What do studio [italics added] teaching and learning look like? Since these questions were derived from a review of the research itself, I could not help but wonder to what degree this reflects the widespread belief that creating and performing are the only real work in the arts, and thus the only kinds of teaching/learning worth studying. Joan Russell and Michalinos Zembylas review research related to arts integration between 2000 and 2005. Rather than describing changes over time, this piece reveals new structures for arts curricula, ones with fewer boundaries between the arts. The authors present arguments for and against arts integration, discussing both benefits and challenges revealed in the studies. A number of international authors offer responses to the chapters. Although not all of them were able to locate published research in a particular area of arts education curriculum, they provide helpful context for understanding issues in different parts of the world. Many of these authors identify tensions between teaching Western high art and teaching local culture. This brings us back to the questions identified earlier: What’s worth knowing, who decides, and in whose interest are the decisions being made? Also within this section are two “interludes,” by Decker Walker and Tom Barone. Their very personal reflections raise issues about arts education curriculum from a different vantage point. These pieces remind us that artistic practice, teaching, and research are all ways of making sense of the world and finding our way through it.

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I recall first learning as an adolescent about an important difference between twodimensional maps and three-dimensional globes: In the flat maps on our classroom walls, the United States appeared larger in relation to other countries than it did on the globe. Indeed, what we know best often seems like the most important. To extend a limited vision, both travel and the arts are valuable, helping us to see different worlds and to see a familiar one differently. As editor of this section, I hope that discovering how these authors have made sense of the world of arts education curriculum research will have a similar effect upon readers.

Notes 1. See Kliebard, (2004) and Reese, (2005), for thoughtful history and analysis. 2. See the chapter by Blumenfeld-Jones and Liang (Chapter 16) in this section for further elaboration.

References Barone, T. E., & Eisner, E. (1997). Arts-based educational research. In R. M. Jaegar (Ed.), Complementary methods for research in education (pp. 73–116). Washington, DC: AERA. Bresler, L. (2005). What musicianship can teach educational research. Music Education Research, 7(2), 169–183. Cahnmann, M. (2003). The craft, practice, and possibility of poetry in educational research. Educational Researcher, 32(3), 29–36. Deasey, R. (Ed.). (2002). Critical links: Learning in the arts and student academic and social development. Washington, DC: Arts Education Partnership. Dewey, J. (1934). Art as experience. New York: Minton, Balch & Company. Eisner, E. W. (1993). Forms of understanding and the future of educational research. Educational Researcher, 22(7), 5–11. Eisner, E. (1997). The promise and perils of alternative forms of data representation. Educational Researcher, 26(6), 4–10. Eisner, E. (2005). Reimagining schools: The selected works of Elliot W. Eisner. New York: Routledge. Jacob, E., & White, C. S. (Eds.) (2002). Theme issue on scientific research and education. Educational Researcher, 31(8). Kliebard, H. M. (2004). The struggle for the American curriculum, 1893–1958 (3rd ed.). New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Lather, P. A. (1991). Getting smart: Feminist research and pedagogy with/in the postmodern. New York: Routledge. Pinar, W. F. (2004). What is curriculum theory? Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Reese, W. J. (2005). America’s public schools: From the common school to “No Child Left Behind.” Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkin’s University Press. Stinson, S. W. (1995). Body of knowledge. Educational Theory, 45(1), 43–54.

10 CURRENTS OF CHANGE IN THE MUSIC CURRICULUM Janet R. Barrett Northwestern University, U.S.A.

Calls for change in curricular practice are ubiquitous in education. The generative tension between traditional views of teaching and learning and innovative proposals for refining, extending, or discarding those traditions feeds the wellspring of curricular discourse. Curriculum studies in music education benefit from probing dialectical tensions between preservation and innovation (Jorgensen, 2003). The triumvirate of foundational disciplines in music education – philosophy, psychology, and historical studies – provide insights into traditional practices of learning and teaching music and also point the way toward avenues of change. For example, principles from utilitarian, aesthetic, and praxial views have stimulated a lively examination of classroom practices in music and their ultimate aims (Elliott, 1995, 2005; Mark, 1982; McCarthy & Goble, 2005; Reimer, 2003). The cognitive, developmental, and social perspectives of music psychology have fueled interest in deeper levels of musical thinking within music classrooms (Hargreaves, Marshall, & North, 2003). Historical scholarship in music education has described the roots and branches of influence that inform our practices while giving us a platform from which to interrogate our culturally and politically embedded routines and conventions (McCarthy, 2003). These core foundations have in turn been informed and revitalized through the cross-fertilization of perspectives from sociology (DeNora, 2003; Shepherd & Vulliamy, 1994), ethnomusicology (Campbell, 2004; Stock, 2003), and policy studies (Barresi, 2000; Chapman, 2004; Spruce, 2002). Qualitative research – particularly ethnography, case studies, narrative research, and phenomenology – also deepens our understanding of the meaningful and situated nature of the musical experience (Bresler, 1995, 1996; Flinders & Richardson, 2002). As many voices animate this curriculum discourse, the curriculum field becomes more complex, crowded, and contested. Confidence in the prescriptive, scientific, rational, linear, and falsely tidy paradigm of curriculum planning that has been promulgated and widely accepted in education for decades has eroded and given way to a panoramic (some might say vertiginous) array of claims, criticisms, projects, and 147 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 147–162. © 2007 Springer.

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opportunities. The commonly held notion that research drives practice is worn and misguided and is a view amplified by Westbury who suggests that “traditional educational theory and research must be regarded as a failed project, at least when seen from the viewpoint of improving schooling in a sustained and sustaining way” (2002, p. 156). Complementary, synergistic views of theory and practice are needed. Wing (1992) suggests that that the curriculum is best understood as the point of mediation between an idea of education and practice, a perspective consistent with Pinar, Reynolds, Slattery, and Taubman who maintain that “in the contemporary field, theory and practice are often regarded as embedded in each other” (2004, p. 56). Indeed, Pinar and his colleagues move curriculum study beyond traditional purposes of knowledge generation by giving such inquiry a situated, contextual, and purposeful nature: “the point of contemporary curriculum research is to stimulate self-reflection, self-understanding, and social change” (p. 56). Curriculum research in this vein problematizes practice, foregrounds beliefs that are normally obscured, and calls normative conceptions of teaching and learning into question. The reconceptualization of the curriculum, situated in the postmodern milieu, challenges music educators to recast beliefs and practices, rather than merely improving and refining traditional programs, materials, and organizational patterns of the field (Doll, 1993; Greene, 1995; Hargreaves, 1994; Slattery, 1995). This reconceptualization requires what Slattery terms a “kaleidoscopic sensibility” (1995, p. 243), in which insights constantly shift and realign in a “vast, interrelated web of ideas, texts, personalities, architectural structures, stories, and much more” (p. 244). Increasingly, curriculum scholars in music education are drawn to these postmodern perspectives and describe richly variegated landscapes for exploration and understanding (Hanley, 2003; Hanley & Montgomery, 2002, 2005).

The Purpose of this Chapter and its Organization Metaphorically speaking, the title of this chapter is used in three senses: current as in the contemporary state of the field; current in the sense of flow or momentum, citing scholars whose work carries curricular dialogue into new streams of thought; and current as in the potential of discourse to energize the work of teachers who mediate the curriculum. The purpose of this chapter is to describe research along various reconceptualized fronts, including those that (1) challenge longstanding views of musicianship and musical understanding; (2) situate the music curriculum as a dynamic social practice; (3) relate developments in the music curriculum to broad arenas of educational policy that enable or inhibit change; and (4) foster views of teachers as primary agents of change in curriculum work. Nearly every research study in music education has something to say about implications for the curriculum. Given the far-ranging scope of scholarly activity, the challenge of this chapter is to navigate a manageable path that will provide a general orientation for further study. For this reason, I have taken my primary frame of reference as the elementary and secondary curriculum in the formal context of schools, although traditional school programs are increasingly influenced by the twin goals of lifelong engagement in music and the amelioration of

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barriers between formal and informal music learning. I have chosen a sample of representative voices and studies to illustrate broad, representative themes of change, acknowledging that there are entire categories of literature (on the use of technology, issues related to gender, early childhood music education, for example) that will not be addressed here. I have also begun this examination by relying on my own knowledge of music education in the United States, with related access to research studies, dissertations, and books by authors from Great Britain, Australia, and Canada. The chapter concludes with implications of this curriculum scholarship for the work of teachers, in concordance with Westbury’s assertion that “it is teachers with their priorities and ambitions … not curricula or policies, who animate the work of the schools” (2002, p. 156).

Currents of Change in Musicianship and Understanding Reconceptualizing the music curriculum necessitates that teachers and researchers examine and reflect upon taken-for-granted assumptions of musicianship and musical understanding. Meaningful change begins with the acknowledgment that traditional conceptions of the music curriculum have privileged the skillful performance of music, repertoire drawn primarily from the classical Western tradition, and academic study of common elements and structural properties of music. At the heart of curricular reconceptualization is the notion that these traditional emphases have limited what is learned and taught by narrowly defining musical engagement and musical knowledge. Although they are not discrete and often interrelated, four avenues of curricular reform stimulate dialogue and practice, including: (1) more comprehensive views of musical behaviors; (2) a wider array of musical styles; (3) an integrated sense of music as an embodied experience; and (4) greater depths of musical understanding. Musical performance has long been the central focus of the curriculum. Since the mid-twentieth century, there have been calls for teachers to expand their primary focus on skilled singing and playing by incorporating a greater range of musical behaviors into their plans and practices. Proposals to diversify the music curriculum have promoted improvisation, composition, listening, analysis, valuing music, situating music in historical and cultural contexts, and relating music to other fields of human endeavor. The roots of this diversification were established through the Comprehensive Musicianship initiative and related projects (Burton, 1990; Mark, 1996; Willoughby, 1990), and were founded on the principle that students form a deeply integrated understanding of music through the study of its complementary aspects. Multiple avenues of engagement also allow students opportunities to more fully demonstrate musical intelligence and participate in varied musical roles. Reimer (2004) calls this expansion a means of cultural empowerment, as the curriculum enables students “to be able to share broadly in all the valued endeavors a culture makes available” while also encouraging them “to become contributors to their culture’s endeavors,” especially through an elective music program that offers a greater variety of instructional choices (p. 2). Varied musical roles include performers, improvisers, composers, listeners, theorists, critics, philosophers, educational theorists, historians, ethnomusicologists, anthropologists, sociologists, social critics, and others. The curricular implications stemming from

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this move towards breadth point to a more eclectic general music program, the restructuring of typical ensemble programs to include musical activities complementary to performance, and a wider array of musical electives and opportunities for study. The extent and degree to which these varied forms of musical engagement are prioritized and accommodated within the curriculum fuels much scholarly debate and practical activity. A second forefront of change in the music curriculum parallels the increasing hybridization of musical styles and the global transmission of music, accompanied by ready access to performers, new works, and musical experimentation through live and mediated modes of transmission. Music educators face considerable challenges, if the curriculum is to remain relevant and reflective of these fertile expressions of culture, identity, and creativity. By varying traditional instrumental and choral ensemble repertoire, encouraging chamber music and alternative ensembles, and through infusing jazz, popular, folk, electronic, and world music into the classroom, students’ musical landscapes in school begin to more closely resemble the panoramic landscapes of music outside of school. Seeger (2002) describes the global transformations in economy, communication, and postcolonial shifts of power that shape the musics that students encounter; these shifts also explain why musical borrowing and hybridization are ubiquitous. Teachers also borrow new pedagogies for teaching diverse musics, relying on oral/aural techniques, improvisation, and cultural informants as musical models. Bowman stresses the need to develop “an experientially grounded, corporeal account of music that situates it at … the nexus of knowing, doing, and being” (2000, p. 59). In contrast to Cartesian thought that privileges activity of the mind over the body, music educators are called to explore an embodied view of mind that relies upon a fusion of the kinesthetic, emotional, and cognitive aspects of musicianship (Bresler, 2003, 2004). Somatic knowing becomes a source of deep insight into the phenomenological worlds of teachers and students. An example can be found in Dura (2002), who describes an embodied view as “an experience [such as music listening] that can be so profoundly ‘moving’ [that it] must at the very least leave its trace or effect upon the body and, at most, involve and implicate the body in its essential workings” (Dura, 2002, p. 119). Such integration was also evident in Powell’s study of a taiko drumming ensemble (2004), in which she portrayed a learning environment in which participants acquire technical mastery, a heightened sense of self and relation to others, and intensified aesthetic experience. The music curriculum that forwards the integration of mind and body attends to the nonrational and profoundly emotional experiences that music affords. A body of scholarly work has focused on the making of meaning and the cultivation of musical understanding as a central aim of the curriculum, building on cognitive and constructivist perspectives widened through sociocultural lenses (Campbell, 1998; Hanley & Goolsby, 2002; Wiggins, 2001; Zenker, 2002). Musical understanding is variously construed as the mental representations and schemes for organizing the musical knowledge students possess, their abilities to act on knowledge or apply what they know to solve new problems or create new products, the meanings students derive from music, the interactions of knowing and feeling stemming from cognition and emotion, and the meanings derived from the social context and interaction of others

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within the learning setting. Curriculum initiatives in music education, when focused on teaching for meaning and understanding, redefine the roles that teachers play in fostering student’s thinking, and for planning classroom activities that lead to musical independence (Boardman, 2002). These four currents of change drive curricular initiatives and reorientations toward more comprehensive, social, cognitively challenging, meaningful, embodied, resonant, and diverse musical experiences, and consequently a more fluid and dynamic view of what musicianship and understanding entail.

Currents of Change – Music as a Social Practice It seems nearly paradoxical to draw attention to music as a social practice, since music making is inherently social in nature. Yet, the infusion of perspectives from sociology, anthropology, ethnography, and cultural studies underscores the need for music educators to consider how the context, content, and processes of music are inextricably related, which in turn strengthens understanding of the communal, interactive, and social components of the educational experience in music. Action and interaction are viewed through music as a “socializing medium” (DeNora, 2003, p. 165). Much of the exploration of the social dimensions of music making is in response to the prevalent feeling that school music programs and students’ musical engagement outside of school are parallel but independent worlds, an “inside/outside” problem. Situating the music curriculum more firmly in sociocultural perspectives is an attempt to bridge this perceived gap. Dunbar-Hall suggests that music education can be defined as cultural study – “a subject concerned with uncovering the differences and power relationships among groups of people and their cultures” (2005, pp. 33–34), and that this redefinition of music study “brings the music curriculum closer to the realities of everyday life – realities that involve poverty, ownership, and social justice” (p. 34). Small advocates a similarly integrated approach embedded squarely in the music itself: “Social meanings are not to be hived off into something called a ‘sociology’ of music that is separate from the meaning of the sounds but are fundamental to our understanding of the activity that is called music” (1998, p. 8). Research dealing with social aspects of music education holds particular promise to inform teachers’ curricular visions. Research on expanding repertoires in the music curriculum draws from the vast array of musical practices, styles, hybrids, and fusions of musical influence that depend upon contextual meanings for understanding. Justifications for including new musical styles provide coherent rationales for rethinking traditional repertoires. Students’ musical interests and pursuits lead researchers to examine informal engagements with music in order to more fully understand the situated and collaborative nature of musical understanding. Other researchers have begun to study how informal music-learning practices transfer into classroom settings, or perhaps stand distinctly outside of these settings. Two particular arenas of research activity in expanded repertoires include popular music and world music/global music (an admittedly awkward construction). These arenas actually overlap, since the vastly inclusive term “world music” embraces both

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traditional and popular streams, and the pervasive fusion of varied musical practices. Rodriguez (2004) distinguishes popular music by referring to music that is consumed and measured by rankings, delivered through accessible media, and affiliated with particular groups and target audiences. In contrast, the term “world music” has been associated with musics of cultural traditions, multicultural, ethnic, or non-western examples, particularly those “other” cultures that are less familiar to teachers and students within a particular context of study (Palmer, 2002). The very labels used to refer to these musical practices warrant cultural analysis to unravel persistent biases and narrow perspectives. Popular music is incorporated in the British and Australian curriculum to a greater extent than in North America (Dunbar-Hall & Wemyss, 2000; Green, 2002; Hebert & Campbell, 2000), and its incorporation has resulted in realignment of instructional goals. Resistance within North America to the inclusion of popular music (rock in particular) is addressed by Hebert and Campbell (2000), who counter six common arguments raised against the use of rock music in the curriculum1. Rodriguez (2004) contends that the study of popular music in schools necessitates a redefinition of musicality, and that traditional components of the curriculum such as notating, creating, and performing are recast and revitalized when related to popular music in the classroom. Dunbar-Hall and Wemyss (2000) describe how the inclusion of popular music in Australian music syllabuses since the 1970s has prompted resulting changes in teaching methodologies, a closer alignment of music education with broad goals of multiculturalism, and the meaningful integration of music technology into instruction. Classrooms that embrace the study of music “as a global phenomenon” (Campbell, 2004, p. 13) reflect an increasingly multicultural and world music focus in the curriculum that has become more sophisticated over the last century (Volk, 1998). Globalization of styles is fostered by unprecedented levels of access to examples of the world music in recorded form and by research-based pedagogical literature for music educators.2 For example, Wade and Campbell have edited a series of cultural case studies that portray the social meanings and diverse cultural practices in fifteen regions of the world, accompanied by curricular materials that can be used by teachers to lead students through attentive, engaged, and enactive listening to recorded performances while studying cultural musical practices in complementary fashion (Campbell, 2004). An emphasis on oral/aural techniques is also advocated by Goetze (2000), who describes a curriculum that engages choral singers in international vocal traditions in ways that are aurally grounded and contextually congruent with the music sung by culture bearers. Studies of the inclusion of cultural music in curricular materials such as textbooks reveal how these materials inculcate social and political values. Ideological stances embedded in school music textbooks and analyses of their overt and covert meanings have been addressed through Brand’s analysis of Chinese texts (2003), Southcott and Lee’s two-pronged study of Japanese imperialism in Taiwan’s music texts and British imperialism in Australian music texts (2003), and studies such as those by Schmidt (1999) and Yamamoto (2002) that analyze representations of cultural groups and cultural music in music series texts. Oehrle (2002) describes efforts in South Africa, reminiscent of Bartok and Kodaly in Hungary, to collect genres of African music for

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inclusion in curriculum materials to counter a long-standing emphasis on Western classical music in the aftermath of apartheid. Social contexts for student engagement and collaboration have been studied through naturalistic and phenomenological accounts. One such study is Campbell’s multifaceted ethnography of children’s music making in formal and informal environments, which draws attention to the musical utterances of children as reflections of their own culture and musicianly impulses (1998). Similarly, children’s musical play in Namibia was studied by Mans (2002), who conducted field work among cultural groups defined by language use, deriving characteristics of musical play and dance that inform goals for socialization within the African curriculum. In addition to children’s musical worlds, research on the informal social contexts of music making among adolescents and adults holds promise to inform classroom work by forwarding the nature of students’ engagement. Music teachers can reconfigure long-standing processes and traditional practices of music inspired by research that probes students’ experiences in common instructional configurations (entire classes or ensemble groups) or less prevalent small group settings. The world of the high school music classroom for American students enrolled in band, choir, and orchestra was portrayed by Adderly, Kennedy, & Berz (2003), who suggest that the social climate of the ensembles develops a musical subculture for developing identity and affiliation with others. A cross-cultural case study of high school students was conducted by Thompson (2001), who found that the meaning students ascribe to music and their attachment to it are influenced by the subject-centered or person-centered emphases of the curriculum in England and British Columbia, respectively. Research on students’ interactions within small ensembles investigates the confluence of social and musical engagements in less teacher-directed settings. Berg (1997) studied students’ processes of musical interpretation in chamber music settings, using Vygotskian frameworks to examine how peers challenge one another to think at more advanced levels, and the nature of their collaborative exchanges about the music. Allsup (2003) conducted an ethnographic study of high school students in two small ensembles, and noted the creative processes, peer influences, and capacities for critique that emerged in a more open-ended context. He related what Freire terms as a dialogic relationship as the foundation for more democratic practices in music education. A greater emphasis on student collaboration and musical negotiation of ideas is fostered in these small ensemble settings. Green’s research on popular musicians raises important pedagogical issues for the inclusion of expanded repertoires and the learning strategies that characterize musical practice in those repertoires. The provocative problems associated with this boundary crossing have been awaiting our attention, as Green observes, “formal music education and informal music learning have for centuries been sitting side by side, with little communication between them” (2002, p. 216). She cites the results of a questionnaire she administered in 1998 in which 61 teachers reported on their teaching strategies for popular music: “Teachers’ classroom approaches are closer to the conventional pedagogy associated with Western classical music than the wide variety of music in the curriculum might seem to imply, and are generally very different indeed from the self-teaching and group informal learning practices of popular and other vernacular

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musicians” (p. 183). Green’s work with adolescent and adult pop and rock musicians addresses informal learning practices, such as participating in “an apprenticeship of close copying or covering existing recordings” (p. 189). The transposition of insights from studies of children’s and adolescents’musical experiences outside of school to school settings implies a redefinition of teachers’roles in the classroom. Jorgensen (2003) describes how teaching is transformed when it takes on more open-ended, improvisational, and dialogical qualities. In Jorgensen’s view, these qualities reside in balance to create educational environments that are “both directive and liberative, didactic and dialogical, subject-centered and student-centered” (p. 141).

Currents of Change – Music in the Context of Schools and Educational Policy The curriculum theorist Joseph Schwab declared the curriculum field to be moribund in 1969, provoking a shift among curricular scholars from posing technical questions of curriculum development and improvement toward a critical reorientation aimed at understanding the curriculum (Pinar et al., 2004). Among Schwab’s contributions was the notion that the curriculum can best be understood through the examination of four commonplaces: teacher, students, subject matter, and milieu (1983). Many curriculum studies and major initiatives in music have focused primarily on the first three commonplaces, seeking primarily to clarify how the content of music is learned and taught. A greater emphasis on the educational milieu, which Schwab described as the investigation of classrooms, schools, and communities, is particularly important for understanding how teaching and learning music are enabled and constrained by the very school settings in which teachers and students work. A growing body of qualitative studies addresses how music is embedded in these contextual realms, and illustrates how music is construed and valued as a subject of study within the school community. Policy research complements these studies by interrogating how music teaching and learning is influenced by the social and political arenas surrounding the classroom. An especially promising analytical framework partitions the educational milieu into three levels in which music education is concurrently situated: “The micro level – teachers’ expertise and beliefs, students’ background and values – [which] interacts with the meso, institutional, level – the structures, resources and goals of the school system – and … the macro level – the traditions of the specific art discipline, the larger culture, and the place of art in it” (Bresler, 2001, pp. 52–53). Bresler used this framework in her study of music specialists in elementary schools, portraying how the beliefs and personal experiences of teachers inform their daily classroom decisions, how school traditions and administrators’ expectations for the music program constrain what teachers do, and how religious, economic, and societal priorities form a backdrop against which curricular decisions are made (Bresler, 1998b). The genre of school music emerges as an amalgam of songs and listening examples selected for the teaching of musical skills and concepts, topical themes such as holidays and seasons, and social and moral messages. Through varied portraits of music teachers, the

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operational curriculum, that is actually taught on a daily basis, comes into sharp relief. The influences of the institutional setting can be traced in the practices, routines, and values that are enacted and experienced by teachers and students. Particular curricular initiatives can be investigated similarly across studies, tracing how movements and proposals are grounded in school life. For example, interdisciplinary approaches – holding particular promise for a more capacious presence of music in school communities – have been studied at all three levels. Miller’s action research study (2003) exemplifies changes in teachers’ beliefs and practices that result from close collaboration between generalists and specialists on behalf of students in a first grade language arts classroom (the microlevel). Various cases of schoolwide interdisciplinary collaborations are described in their institutional contexts (meso) by Burnaford, Aprill, and Weiss (2001) and through the case studies of Bresler (1998a). At the macrolevel, Detels (1999) addresses the epistemological nature of music as a discipline and the “soft boundaries” that place the arts within the broader streams of arts and aesthetics in culture. Policy research in music education can inform music educators’ initiatives to reconceptualize the curriculum within music and across contexts of school and community, and to understand how policy impacts the curriculum at the micro-, meso-, and macrolevels. A panoramic overview of national policies on music and the arts was provided as part of the International Music Education Policy Symposium (Hull, 2004). Surveys of the landscape for music education in seventeen countries3 reveal broad similarities as well as distinctions. Government influence on the curriculum is seen through gradations of control and oversight over national curricula, standards, guidelines, and assessments, or equivalent policies at state, provincial, or regional levels. Compulsory music education for students is maintained through early to middle adolescence, when elective music is offered for students who wish to pursue specialized studies. In some countries, conservatories or specialized music schools provide a more focused musical education for students who elect, or are recommended, for more concentrated study. Specialists and generalists play differentiated roles in the delivery of the curriculum, particularly at the primary level, with specialists more common at the secondary and tertiary levels. Curricular collaborations with community artists or with cultural institutions are interspersed as a strategy for utilizing the cultural resources of communities. Some policies promote a nationalistic focus to preserve cultural traditions (such as Croatia, Finland, Indonesia, Japan). South Africa’s document speaks of curricular reform after apartheid; Indonesia’s document addresses how indigenous kinds of music at the center of the curriculum counter the spread of Westernization. Policies potentially shape the kinds of musical engagements students may have (such as in the U.S. National Standards or British National Curriculum attainment targets of performing and composing, listening, and appraising). Clearly research on the influences of policy and greater awareness of the impacts of policy on teachers’ curriculum making are needed. In their 1992 chapter, Barresi and Olson drew upon Mayer and Greenwood’s three characteristics of policy: “(1) it involves an intended course of action; (2) it occurs at the highest or more inclusive level of decision making associated with the action to be taken; and (3) it incorporates

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an understanding of the implications of the proposed action” (p. 760). Barresi and Olson advocate that in order to influence policy, music educators must first understand which types of policies they desire to influence: “Imposed policies require constituents to comply under penalty of sanction, either economic or professional”; endorsed policies motivate constituents to comply through “a desire to receive some benefit from the policy-making body”; “advocated policy is characterized by completely voluntary compliance … [in which] constituents must be in philosophical and/or practical agreement with the policy in order to actively support its tenets” (p. 761). Knowledge of policy types is a first step toward informed response to policy; understanding the difference, for example, between imposed, endorsed, and advocated policy bears on teachers’ attitudes towards compliance or cooperation with the general intent. Research on curriculum policy in music education and the influence of educational policies on teachers’ curriculum making is pressing in light of the reduction of autonomy such policies imply (Spruce, 2002). A case study describing the development of the National Curriculum in England in response to the Education Reform Act of 1988 is a particularly informative and telling example. Shepherd and Vulliamy (1994) describe an ideological battle over emphases on Western classical music and popular music in England as conservative and progressive forces contested repertoire and pedagogy in the National Curriculum. They trace how curriculum committees, politicians, the national media, noted musicians, and music educators debated curricular issues that at heart, promulgated attempts to “renegotiate central cultural values” (p. 28) and that brought into question essential concepts of “Englishness” against the backdrop of an increasingly multicultural population. Shepherd and Vulliamy suggest that the ideological debates that attend the formation of national policy may operate in a discursive space that has little to do with implementation, noting that the “actual and concrete effects [of the policy] on classroom practice are questionable” (p. 37). Examples of research on policies that establish common frameworks or standards in the music curriculum include critical analyses of the forces that shape policy and practice in Canadian provinces (Dundas, 1997), case studies of the implementation of music curricular frameworks in particular school districts (Dickerson, 2003), and utilization of critical theory to unpack the pedagogical and philosophical assumptions of standards in music (Kassell Benedict, 2004). Chapman (2004) analyzes the effects of national policy through the No Child Left Behind Act on the arts in the United States, painting a portrait of growing vulnerability and marginalization of arts programs in the current climate of testing and accountability. Research on the effects of educational policy on the curriculum raises questions about teachers’ curricular autonomy, students’ access to learning opportunities in music, and institutional efforts to standardize content and delivery of the curriculum.

Currents of Change – Music Teachers as Agents of Change At the nexus of these currents of change stands the teacher, who faces what may seem as an alternately bewildering or liberating panorama of choices for guiding students’ musical growth and experience in classroom settings. Now more than ever before,

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a teacher’s work requires a kaleidoscopic sensibility, and keen judgment to maintain one’s bearings while responding flexibly to the shifting contingencies of daily practice. Even within the limited scope of the curricular ideas and studies sampled in this chapter, music teachers move out from constrained conceptions of musicianship to provide more comprehensive avenues for students’ musical participation. Teachers’ working theories of musical understanding influence the kinds of experiences they plan for students, and frame how they gauge the breadth and depth of students’ musical knowledge. Construing music education as a field that is deeply rooted in social practice orients a teacher’s attitude toward diverse musical repertoire, the importance of peer interaction and collaboration within classroom settings, and respect for deeply held beliefs related to identity, culture, and community. Within the context of school settings and policy environments, teachers may also feel a simultaneous push and pull toward poles of tradition and innovation. In the face of competing demands and visions of the music curriculum, teachers strive to construct coherent and meaningful musical experiences for students. The intersection of contemporary curriculum research with the lives, aspirations, and initiatives of teachers can be sensed in Pinar’s assertion, worth repeating, that “the point of contemporary curriculum research is to stimulate self-reflection, selfunderstanding, and social change” (Pinar et al., 2004, p. 56). Teaching is upheld as a process of inquiry that is driven by questions about the nature of musical understanding and the meanings students derive from music. Sustainable and meaningful curricular change requires a redefinition of central purposes rather than just tinkering around the edges of practice (Tyack & Cuban, 1995). It also requires disrupting and dislodging routines and traditions that are robust and firmly embedded in music teachers’ roles (as Jorgensen observes, “music educators have been a remarkably consistent breed for millennia,” 2003, p. 202). In addition, music teachers forge ahead through cycles of curricular contraction and expansion in the general educational milieu. Curricular contraction is a response to conservative views of what schools should teach and what students should learn, reducing teacher autonomy and constraining their initiative (Woodford, 2005). Cycles of curricular expansion engage teachers in new practices and professional development opportunities, which in turn intensify their roles and responsibilities (Hargreaves, 1994). Teachers’ capacities for self-reflection and strong orientations toward social change are congruent with Westbury’s claim that “it is teachers with their priorities and ambitions … who animate the work of the schools” (2002, p. 156). If proposals for change are not aligned with images of teachers as informed, reflective, and purposeful agents, the reform will have little chance of success. Thiessen and Barrett (2002) describe multiple realms of music teachers’ work – in the classroom, in the corridors, and in the community – to portray the actions and initiatives of teachers in the current context of school reform. We suggest that pre-service and in-service teacher education programs based on a reform-minded image of music teaching would foster teachers’ critical and reflective stances toward change in educational settings. Giroux’s metaphor of teachers as transformative intellectuals is similarly grounded in democratic visions of teachers “who combine scholarly reflection and practice in the service of educating students to be thoughtful, active citizens” (1988, p. 122). Teachers

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who exemplify democratic stances work with and alongside students to challenge and interrogate injustice and exclusion by problematizing taken-for-granted assumptions; music’s reflection of the social contexts in which it is embedded can serve as one locus for this investigation. Recognizing the political dimensions of music and schooling may be difficult for teachers who are not accustomed to regard music teaching as a political act (Jorgensen, 2004), yet it represents an avenue for rich insight regarding the purposes, functions, and uses of music in schools and society. Curriculum discourse in music education within the reconceptualized field is building momentum and energy as curricular practices and beliefs are examined and informed by a panorama of related disciplines, methodologies, and theoretical perspectives. These currents of change call for synergistic efforts in research and practice, supporting the work of teachers who are deeply motivated by the prospect of transforming students’ lives through music.

Notes 1. These arguments are that rock music is aesthetically inferior, damaging to youth, and anti-education; teachers are not adequately trained; there is little time for the vernacular; and little attention paid to rock music in the curriculum (Hebert & Campbell, 2000). 2. Although as Jorgensen reminds us, globalization of music itself can mask distinctive practices with a veneer or “epidermis” of capitalist ideologies (2004, p. 2). 3. Australia, Croatia, England, Finland, France, Greece, Hungary, Indonesia, Japan, Latvia, New Zealand, Norway, Singapore, Slovenia, South Africa, Sweden, and the United States.

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Bresler, L. (1998b). The genre of school music and its shaping by meso, micro, and macro contexts. Research Studies in Music Education, 11, 2–18. Bresler, L. (2001). Agenda for arts education research: Emerging issues and directions. In M. McCarthy (Ed.), Enlightened advocacy: Implications of research for arts education policy and practice: The 1999 Charles Fowler colloquium on innovation in arts education (Vol. 4, pp. 44–71). College Park, MD: University of Maryland. Bresler, L. (2003). The role of musicianship and music education in the twenty-first century. In S. Leong (Ed.), Musicianship in the 21st century: Issues, trends and possibilities (pp. 15–27). Marrickville, NSW: Southwood Press. Bresler, L. (Ed.). (2004). Knowing bodies, moving minds: Towards embodied teaching and learning. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Burnaford, G., Aprill, A., & Weiss, C. (Eds.) (2001). Renaissance in the classroom: Arts integration and meaningful learning. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Burton, L. (1990). Comprehensive musicianship: The Hawaii music curriculum project. The Quarterly Journal of Music Teaching and Learning, 1(3), 67–76. Campbell, P. S. (1998). Songs in their heads: Music and its meaning in children’s lives. New York: Oxford University Press. Campbell, P. S. (2004). Teaching music globally: Experiencing music, expressing culture. New York: Oxford University Press. Chapman, L. H. (2004). No child left behind in art? Arts Education Policy Review, 106(2), 3–17. DeNora, T. (2003). Music sociology: Getting the music into the action. British Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 165–177. Detels, C. (1999). Soft boundaries: Re-visioning the arts and aesthetics in American education. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Dickerson, M. S. (2003). The impact of the state arts curriculum framework on one public school system (Massachusetts). Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Boston College, Boston, MA. Doll, W. E. Jr. (1993). A post-modern perspective on curriculum. New York: Teachers College Press. Dunbar-Hall, P. (2005). Colliding perspectives?: Music curriculum as cultural studies. Music Educators Journal, 91(4), 33–37. Dunbar-Hall, P., & Wemyss, K. (2000). The effects of the study of popular music on music education. International Journal of Music Education, 36, 23–34. Dundas, K. D. (1997). The construction of school curriculum and music education (Newfoundland, Labrador). Unpublished master’s thesis, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John’s. Dura, M. T. (2002). Movement and music: The kinesthetic dimension of the music listening experience. In B. Hanley & T. W. Goolsby (Eds.), Musical understanding: Perspectives in theory and practice (pp. 119–134). Victoria, BC: Canadian Music Educators Association. Elliott, D. J. (1995). Music matters: A new philosophy of music education. New York: Oxford University Press. Elliott, D. J. (Ed.). (2005). Praxial music education: Reflections and dialogues. New York: Oxford University Press. Flinders, D. J., & Richardson, C. P. (2002). Contemporary issues in qualitative research and music education. In R. Colwell & C. Richardson (Eds.), The new handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 1159–1175). New York: Oxford University Press. Giroux, H. A. (1988). Teachers as intellectuals: Toward a critical pedagogy of learning. New York: Bergin & Garvey. Goetze, M. (2000). The challenges of performing choral music of the world. In B. Reimer (Ed.), Performing with understanding: The challenge of the national standards for music education (pp. 155–169). Reston, VA: Music Educators National Conference. Green, L. (2002). How popular musicians learn: A way ahead for music education. Aldershot, England: Ashgate. Greene, M. (1995). Releasing the imagination: Essays on education, the arts, and social change. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Hanley, B. (2003). Navigating unpredictable possibilities in postmodern music education. Journal of the Canadian Association for Curriculum Studies, 1(2), 93–116.

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Seeger, A. (2002). Catching up with the rest of the world: Music education and musical experience. In B. Reimer (Ed.), World musics and music education: Facing the issues (pp. 103–116). Reston, VA: MENC: The National Association for Music Education. Shepherd, J., & Vulliamy, G. (1994). The struggle for culture: A sociological case study of the development of a national music curriculum. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 15(1), 27–40. Slattery, P. (1995). Curriculum development in the postmodern era. New York: Garland. Small, C. (1998). Musicking: The meanings of performing and listening. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press. Southcott, J., & Lee, A. H.-C. (2003). Imperialism in school music: Common experiences in two different cultures. International Journal of Music Education, 40, 28–40. Spruce, G. (2002). Ways of thinking about music: Political dimensions and educational consequences. In G. Spruce (Ed.), Teaching music in secondary schools: A reader (pp. 3–24). London: RoutledgeFalmer. Stock, J. P. (2003). Music education: Perspectives from current ethnomusicology. British Journal of Music Education, 20(2), 135–145. Thiessen, D., & Barrett, J. R. (2002). Reform-minded music teachers: A more comprehensive image of teaching for music teacher education. In R. Colwell & C. Richardson (Eds.), New handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 759–785). New York: Oxford University Press. Thompson, J. K. (2001). “I feel therefore I am”: Selected British and Canadian senior high school students’ conceptions of music and music education. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of British Columbia, Vancouver. Tyack, D., & Cuban, L. (1995). Tinkering toward utopia: A century of public school reform. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Volk, T. M. (1998). Music, education, and multiculturalism: Foundations and principles. New York: Oxford University Press. Westbury, I. (2002). Theory, research, and the improvement of music education. In R. Colwell & C. Richardson (Eds.), New handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 144–161). New York: Oxford University Press. Wiggins, J. H. (2001). Teaching for musical understanding. New York: McGraw-Hill. Willoughby, D. (1990). Comprehensive musicianship. The Quarterly Journal of Music Teaching and Learning, 1(3), 39–44. Wing, L. B. (1992). Curriculum and its study. In R. Colwell (Ed.), Handbook of research on music teaching and learning (pp. 196–217). New York: Schirmer Books. Woodford, P. G. (2005). Democracy and music education: Liberalism, ethics, and the politics of practice. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Yamamoto, M. (2002). Analysis of American curricular materials on Japanese music, K through 8: Rethinking the images of the koto, sakura, and kimono. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Zenker, R. (2002). The dynamic and complex nature of musical understanding. In B. Hanley & T. Goolsby (Eds.), Musical understanding: Perspectives in theory and practice (pp. 27–50). Victoria, BC: Canadian Music Educators Association.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 10.1 Decolonizing Music Curricula in Modern Africa

Anri Herbst University of Cape Town, South Africa

The African Renaissance characterizes an attempt to deepen an understanding of Africa and its methods of development, and thus its indigenous knowledge systems. Masoga (2005) sees the absence of “a comprehensive African relevance” in schools and universities in Africa as an insult to African scholars and future leaders (p. 6). Odora-Hoppers warns against the “erosion of people’s knowledge” (2002, p. 6). It is not necessary to rehash Africa’s colonial history to understand the qualms of some African intelligentsia (see Odora-Hoppers, 2002 and Indilinga). At the 2003 Pan African Society for Musical Arts Education (Pasmae) conference in Kenya, delegates generally lamented the overbearing Western-oriented musical arts curriculum at all levels (Herbst, 2005). Learning to read and write Western staff notation and play a Western instrument is still the prize achievement for many students. Wanting to immerse oneself in another culture is not necessarily negative, but it becomes problematic when this involves scoffing at one’s mother culture, or looking down on indigenous knowledge systems. Issues related to content and ways of teaching that would not only enhance uniquely African sociocultural values, but also empower the present and future generations to function in a global context, were at the core of the discussions at the above-mentioned conference. Miya and Floyu note a strong sense that curricula should include both African and Western content taught in oral folklore-based and written ways (as cited in Herbst, 2005). Hountondij (2002) phrases this sentiment as follows: We must accept that we do not have to prove anything to anybody. We must get rid of the obsession of the “Other” in both ways, and make ourselves the privileged, if not the unique reference of our calculations and plans. (p. 25) Walugembe from Uganda criticized government-based education when he said that “the people who are excelling in any field are not products of our formal education system” (as cited in Herbst, 2005, p. 17). His main concern seems to be that the 163 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 163–166. © 2007 Springer.

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curricula do not prepare learners to contribute to the sociocultural values of a community and/or to earn a living. Although a contentious generalization, it seems as if the remains of a colonially infused aesthetics-based music appreciation taught in schools on the African continent has failed to do justice to the deep-rooted sociocultural role of the musical arts to “transact” life (Herbst & Nzewi, 2003). It has yet to be seen whether the MUESSA rubic-based model (Grové, Van Niekerk, & Van der Mescht, 2003) will fulfill its promise to “propose a solution for the very complex problem of re-structuring music education in South Africa” (p. 69) and whether it will successfully meet with Kwami’s quest for music education (1998), which takes cognizance of the sociocultural function and significance of music (The entire 1998 issue of the British Journal of Music Education was devoted to music education on the African continent. See also Blacking, 1990; Dargie, 1996.). By taking a pan-African perspective in this short contribution, I know that am not fully acknowledging the fact that curricula, infrastructures, and levels of problems in the different sub-Saharan African countries differ. However, it became clear at the Pasmae 2003 conference that delegates from southern, east, and central Africa felt that (1) their own sociocultural heritages have been jeopardized in favor of foreign influences, (2) one of the ways forward would be to ensure that teachers in Africa are skilled in playing and teaching the indigenous musical instruments of their countries, and (3) the mother-tongue culture of a country or region should be at the core of the curriculum, while also paying attention to global culture. The last two recommendations may seem obvious to an outsider who does not know that the majority of teachers teaching in government schools on the continent lack rudimentary indigenous African musical arts knowledge. Filling this gap is not an easy task; for one, knowing exactly what indigenous knowledge systems entail requires a critical approach to what has been written about African music (see Agawu, 2003). Teachers should develop critical approaches to sources and interact more closely with archives such as the International Library of African Music (ILAM). The real danger, it seems, lies in limiting the musical arts to modern classrooms without critically reflecting on the values of indigenous knowledge systems.

References Agawu, K. (2003). Representing African music: postcolonial notes, queries, positions. New York & London: Routledge. Blacking, J. (1990). Music in children’s cognitive and affective development: Problems posed by ethnomusicological research. In F. Roehmann & F. Wilson (Eds.), The biology of music making: Music and child development t – Proceedings of the 1987 Denver conference (pp. 68–78). St. Louis, MO: MMB Music. Dargie, D. (1996). African methods of music education: Some reflections. African Music, 7(3), 30–43. Grové, P., Van Niekerk, C., & Van der Mescht, H. (2003). Researching a new perspective on music education in Southern Africa. Perspectives in Education, 21(2), 57–70. Herbst, A. (2005). Musical arts education in Africa: A philosophical discourse. In A. Herbst (Ed.), Emerging solutions for musical arts education in Africa (pp. 11–23). Cape Town: African Minds. Herbst, A., & Nzewi, M. (2003). Envisioning Africa-sensitive music education: What viable directions? In E. Olsen (Ed.), Samspel – ISME 2002 (Bergen, Norway, August the 11th–16th, 25th Biennial World Conference and Music Festival, International Society for Music Education: Proceedings. Bergen: Bergen University College Media Centre.

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Hountondji, P. (2002). Knowledge appreciation in a post colonial context. In C. A. Odora- Hoppers (Ed.), Knowledge and the integration of knowledge systems: Towards a philosophy of articulation (pp. 23–38). Claremont: New Africa Books. Indilinga: African Journal of Indigenous Knowledge Systems. www.indilinga.org.za International Library for African Music (ILAM). www.ilam.ru.ac.za Kwami, R. (1998). Non-Western musics in education: Problems and possibilities. British Journal of Music Education, 15(2), 161–170. Masoga, M. (2005). Establishing dialogue: Thoughts on music education in Africa. In A. Herbst (Ed.), Emerging solutions for musical arts education in Africa (pp. 1–10). Cape Town: African Minds. Odora-Hoppers, C. A. (2002). Indigenous knowledge and the integration of knowledge systems: Towards a conceptual and methodological framework. In C. A. Odora-Hoppers (Ed.), Knowledge and the integration of knowledge systems: Towards a philosophy of articulation (pp. 2–22). Claremont: New Africa Books.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 10.2 Music Curricula in the Arab World

Ibrahim H. Baltagi Baldwin-Wallace College, U.S.A.

Music Education found its niche within nonformal educational institutions in the Arab world such as private conservatories, and until quite recently, constituted a marginal element in the formal system. In the last decade, there has been a growing interest in expanding the concept of music education, and a corresponding search for ways to provide instruction in music classes. Music objectives and curricula to train children aesthetically and artistically were required, paying due attention to psychological and emotional aspects, and preparing the children to participate in cultural, social, and economic life. According to Fakhouri (2002), music objectives and curricula had common ground in the Arab countries that witness music education. These ambitious objectives and curricula were difficult to accomplish, considering that little or no time was allocated for the music classes, only one period a week if it exists. Fakhouri adds that, according to reports received from Jordan, UAE, Tunisia, Algeria, Syria, Iraq, Qatar, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Libya, Egypt, and Morocco, formal music education in these countries is a reproduction of the music curricula in the Western world and lacks authenticity. Lebanon, the gate to Middle East is culturally, geographically, and economically part of the Arab world (Jarrar, 1991). Recent statistics collected in Lebanon by the Educational Center for Research and Development (Zein Eddine, 2005) show only 513 music specialists teaching in public schools in this country with a population of 4,000,000, and they are not evenly distributed throughout the districts. It is clear that the position of music as a subject has little importance to the school administration and has moved to a low priority. Educational ideology in Lebanon is becoming very traditional and unable to adapt with the changes and evolution in music education. The efforts of those in charge of music education in the Arab world demonstrate an awareness of recent innovations worldwide. However, the slow pace of renovation, the paucity of resources, and the poor situation of teaching in general all make it difficult to keep abreast of the latest developments in arts education. The analysis above shows 167 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 167–168. © 2007 Springer.

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that improvements are to be made in three directions: curriculum development and the enhancement of teaching methods, teacher training, and the production of materials for students and teaching aids.

References Fakhouri, K. (2002). The teaching of music in the Arab world. Amman: The National Conservatory of Music. Jarrar, S. (1991). Lebanon. In P. Altbach (Ed.), International higher education: An encyclopedia (pp. 1055–1063). London: Gerland Publishing. Zein Eddine, H. (2005). [Arts in education: A study of reality, usefulness, and expectations]. [The Education Journal], 24, 39–46.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 10.3 Current Developments in Music Curriculum in China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan Chi Cheung Leung Hong Kong Institute of Education, Hong Kong S.A.R.

At the turn of the twenty-first century, the school music curricula in China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan have undergone immense changes, usually adopting Western trends into local contexts. Decentralization of curriculum design and new emphases on content have increased the need for better professional development for music teachers. In China, the new music curriculum standard (MCS) seeks to motivate student interest in learning, encourage investigation and creativity, and establish integrated assessment criteria (Deng, 2003). It aims to avoid overemphasis on subject matter, lack of integrative and comprehensive design, overreliance on textbook knowledge, and separation from social context (Wu & Jin, 2002). The design of the MCS allows teachers to have autonomy in making educational decisions, such as choosing the teaching repertoire (Xie, 2003), leading to the need for enhancement of teacher-education (Tao, 2004; Wan, 2004; Wen & Wen, 2003; Yang, 2004). Popular songs were included in one of the newly published textbooks in China, although most of the songs were designed to arouse love of the country. Many scholars (Fan, 2001; Zhao, 2000; Zhou, 2000) also urge the promotion of teaching Chinese music. Among many issues in China is its vast territory which has extreme differences in resource allocation among regions, especially between urban and rural areas. With the continued exposure of China to Western ideas and thoughts in music education, it is expected that there will be further adjustments in curriculum development in the future. Since the return of Hong Kong’s sovereignty back to China in 1997, the new government has initiated a series of educational changes. Among these was the curriculum reform which led to the launching of the new music curriculum guide (MCG). At the same time, the government called for new music textbooks to be submitted for publication. In the previous music syllabi, an academic approach to teaching and Western music dominated the implemented curriculum (Everitt, 1998; Leung, 2004; Yu-Wu & Ng, 2000), although creativity and Chinese music were mentioned. The new MCG included emphases in creativity, Chinese music, popular music, and the study of music in relation to its context, areas in which teachers need further professional development. 169 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 169–172. © 2007 Springer.

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However, it should be noted that world music was not an explicit area in the MCG because Hong Kong needs more time to rebuild its own culture, that is, Chinese culture, in the curriculum. Moreover, though integrative arts were initially promoted, they were put backstage after intense discussions. In Taiwan, with the lifting of the Martial Law in 1987, education policy was more liberalized and opened to wider cultural diversity. Since then, local arts and culture have been incorporated into the school curriculum (Chen & Chang, 2005) and continued to develop. Music textbooks have included an increasing number of local folk songs and songs written by Taiwan composers (Lai, 2005). A new music curriculum was introduced in 2001. With its enforcement, folk song teaching became important in the Arts and Humanities domain (Chang, 2005), which includes drama and other existing music and visual art subjects. The objective of the cultivation of nationalism through education was removed from the new music curriculum, though emphasis on the promotion of ethnic culture still prevails (Ho & Law, 2003: Law & Ho, 2003; Zhuang, 1995). Furthermore, the new curriculum provides guidelines but not detailed contents for teachers. It is a school-based curriculum which requires teachers to be engaged in curriculum planning. A thematic approach was adopted, whereby music content is required to be taught in relation to themes rather than concepts and fundamentals (Lai, 2003). With these changes, there have been calls for the provision of further professional development for teachers. From the above discussion, it is not hard to identify the similarities and differences in the directions and emphases of changes with regard to the music curricula of China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan. Although not new from the Western perspective, these changes represent challenges for music teachers of the three Chinese communities. Issues of implementation will be inevitable and adjustments will be needed to confront continuing external changes and internal demands.

References Chang, H. (2005). The current implementation of native folk song teaching for Taiwan elementary school. In S. Morrison (Ed.), The 5th Asia-Pacific Symposium on Music Education Research [CD-Rom]. San Diego, CA: University of Washington. Chen, H.-F., & Chang, C.-J. (2005). Multicultural music education in Taiwan: A case study of teaching Hakka songs. In S. Morrison (Ed.), The 5th Asia-Pacific Symposium on Music Education Research [CDRom]. San Diego, CA: University of Washington. Deng, Y. (2003). Yinyue kecheng gaige de jidian zuofa [A few strategies in music curriculum reform]. Dalian jiaoyu xueyuan xuebao [Journal of Dalian College of Education], 19(4), 51. Everitt, A. (1998). Arts policy, its implementation and sustainable arts funding: A report for the Hong Kong arts development council. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Arts Development Council. Fan, Z. (2001). Mianxiang ershiyi shiji de Zhongguo yinyue jiaoyu [Music education of China in the 21st century]. Paper presented at the Chinese Music Research: New Perspective on the 21st Century International Conference, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Ho, W. C., & Law, W. W. (2003). Music education in Taiwan: The dynamics and dilemmas of globalization, localization and sinophilia. Curriculum Journal, 13(3), 339–360. Lai, M. (2005). Analysis of required songs from the music textbooks used in elementary and junior high schools in Taiwan (1968–2000). In S. Morrison (Ed.), The 5th Asia-Pacific Symposium on Music Education Research [CD-Rom]. San Diego, CA: University of Washington.

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Lai, M. L. (2003). Music curriculum reform in Taiwan: Integrated arts. In L. C. R. Yip, C. C. Leung, & W. T. Lau (Eds.), Curriculum innovation in music (pp. 171–175). Hong Kong: The Hong Kong Institute of Education. Law, W. W., & Ho, W. C. (2003). Music education in Taiwan: The pursuit for “local” and “national” identity. Journal of the Indian Musicological Society, 34, 83–96. Leung, C. C. (2004). Curriculum and culture: A model for content selections and teaching approaches in music. British Journal of Music Education, 21(1), 25–39. Tao, C. (2004). Xin kecheng xia de yinyue jiaoshi jiaoyu gaige [The Reform of music teachers’ education with the new curriculum]. Nanjing Xiaozhuang xueyuan xue bao [Journal of Nanjing Xiaozhuang College], 20(2), 74–78. Wan, A. (2004). Woguo xuexiao yinyue jiaoyu gaige yu fazhan duice yanjiu [Research on reform of school music education, its development and policies]. Zhongyang yinyue xueyuan xuebao [Journal of the Central Conservatory of Music], 97(4), 3–12. Wen, G., & Wen, Y. (2003). Yinyue kecheng biaozhung yu gaoshi yinyue kecheng gaige de sikao [Thought on the curriculum standard of music and music curriculum reformation in normal school]. Jiangxi Jiaoyu Xuebao [Journal of Jianxi Institute of Education], 24(6), 113–115. Wu, B., & Jin, Y. (2002). Yinyue kecheng gaige de yiyi ji qi Beijing-yiwu jiaoyu yinyue kecheng biaozhun jiedou zhiyi [The Background and rationale of the reform in music curriculum: The standard illustration of music curriculum in voluntary music education]. Zhongguo yinyue jiaoyu [China Music Education], Apr 2002, 16–24. Xie, J. (2003). Reform on music and art courses in China’s (Mainland) schools. In L. C. R. Yip, C. C. Leung, & W. T. Lau (Eds.), Curriculum innovation in music (pp. 28–35). Hong Kong: The Hong Kong Institute of Education. Yang, H. (2004). Yinyue kecheng biaozhun yu jichu yinyue jiaoyu gaige [The Music curriculum standard and music curriculum reform], Yangzhou jiaoyu xueyuan xuebao [Journal of Yangzhou college of education], 22(1), 83–86. Yu-Wu, R. Y. W., & Ng, D. C. H. (2000). The underlying educational notions of the two earliest official primary music syllabi. In Y. C. Cheng, K. W. Chow, & K. T. Tsui (Eds.), School curriculum change and development in Hong Kong (pp. 483–503). Hong Kong: The Hong Kong Institute of Education. Zhao, S. (2000). “Zhagen banxue” shijian de wenhuaxue yu jiaoyuxue yiyi [The significance of the implementation of “foundation schooling” in cultural and educational studies]. Zhongguo yinyue [Chinese Music], 96(1), 33–34. Zhou, K. (2000). Zhongguo minzu yinyue jiaoyu de zhuti jianshe yu zhenghe yishi [The major construction and holistic thinking of traditional Chinese music education]. Zhongguo yinyue [Chinese Music], 96(1), 40–43. Zhuang, S. Z. (1995). Miandui xin kecheng biaozhun, yinyue jiaoshi ying ruhe shishi jiaoxue [The implementation of teaching music according to the new curriculum standard]. Nan Tau Wen Jiao [Humanities Teaching in Nan Tau], 8, 116–118.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 10.4 Tradition and Change in the Spanish Music Curriculum Gabriel Rusinek Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Spain

Although music in Spain has an ancient tradition that starts in the Middle Ages, it was incorporated fully into the school curriculum in 1990. Previously, music education had been offered in a few private schools, and since 1975 a course on music history was included in the secondary curriculum. After 1990, music started to be a compulsory academic subject, taught in every Spanish school by elementary and secondary specialists in dedicated classrooms equipped with Orff instruments. Besides the “general music” delivered in those classrooms, outside the schools there are currently many children and adults engaged in musical activities: performing in folk and pop ensembles, bands and choirs; receiving instrumental tuition as amateurs in community or private schools of music; receiving professional training in conservatories; or studying musicology or music education in universities. Music education seems to be stronger every day, but the whole idea of “curriculum” in Spain is based on the idea of the “didactics of music,” understood as traditional ways of teaching or those based on methodologies such as Orff, Dalcroze, or Kodály. Within the profession, there is little or no debate that includes research conducted in real school settings and academic discussions in conferences and journals informed by the findings of that research. Only the compulsory national curriculum, and the adaptations in each autonomous region due to cultural or linguistic particularities, are considered to be “the curriculum” and therefore, as with any governmental policy, only changeable through new laws after a lot of lobby activity when one of the two parties that alternate in the government announces a new educational reform. Research on music teaching and learning is still very scarce because postgraduate studies in music are so new: Conservatory graduates were first accepted for doctorates in 1994 and there are still few programs in Musicology or Music Education. (e.g., the first PhD MusEd program in Madrid is starting in 2005–06.) Because music is not a priority for the educational authorities or for public fund providers (private resources for research are rare because they are not tax deductible), it is not strange that most research has been individual, unfunded, short-length doctoral research. Although there 173 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 173–174. © 2007 Springer.

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are many good practices in Spanish music education, teachers are not fond of, or do not have time for, sharing and disseminating their knowledge. Very few conferences at national level, which could be an opportunity for curricular debate and for building a research agenda, are organized. The situation of the Spanish Society for Music Education (originally, ISME-Spain) is an example of the local lack of an associative interest: It has, after twenty seven years of existence, hard work and great achievements like the hosting of the 26th ISME World Conference in Tenerife in 2004, only around 250 members; in contrast, in the USA, with six times more population, the national association (MENC) has around 114,000 members. Moreover, the aims of many regional organizations’ meetings are generally limited to a momentary advocacy activity when a new reform threatens the survival of the subject within the national curriculum. Many music education books, mainly textbooks and some song books or collections of games and teaching activities, are published every year; textbook publishing is a huge business in Spain because instead of selling one book to a teacher, publishers sell two or three hundred to his or her pupils. There are also magazines aimed at practitioners, and two printed music education journals: Música y Educación (published in Madrid since 1989) and Eufonía. Didáctica de la Música (published in Barcelona since 1995). Besides advocacy essays, teaching recipes, and some research reports, the articles in these journals document curricular tensions such as these: ●

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the inclusion of pop songs and ethnic music vs. the traditional focus on Western art music; the inclusion of Spanish or regional folk songs in primary vs. a generic music education repertoire; the use of active music making in secondary – including dancing, singing, and playing – to respond to the problems of postmodern adolescence, vs. the tradition of teaching music history; the inclusion of music creativity and collaborative learning through student-centered activities such as composing or improvising, vs. the teacher-centered strategies taken from the teaching traditions of the other school subjects; the problems in the preparation of primary music teachers because of a legal prohibition against adding a music entrance exam to the national exam for university admission; the problems in the preparation of secondary music teachers, who, although having a very high instrumental performance level after graduating from conservatories, only receive extremely short teacher-training.

Finally, the lack of English-language knowledge by most school music teachers, conservatory teachers, and university lecturers – perhaps similar to the ethnocentric lack of knowledge of foreign languages by American, Australian, or British teachers – makes the profession remain out of the currents of change in the rest of the world. Hopefully, the situation will change in some years thanks to the beginning and probable extension of postgraduate studies in music education, at a master’s degree level due to the convergence of the programs of study in the European Union, and to the increasing interest in research.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 10.5 A Scandinavian Perspective on Music Curriculum Research Magne Espeland Stord/Haugesund University College, Norway

Current trends in Scandinavian music education and research over the past 40 years or so largely mirror those described by Barrett. In Norway, for example, the establishment of music as compulsory subject in public education in 1960 has developed from a focus on singing and listening to Western nineteenth-century art music to an activitybased and multi-style practice centered around performing, listening, and composing. The research being undertaken, for the most part in the form of dissertations, reflects this development to some degree. There is, however, a major difference between curriculum practices in the USA and the corresponding ones in the Scandinavian countries: Scandinavia belongs to a group of countries with a long tradition of compulsory national curriculum documents, revised every 10 years or so, as the starting point and framework for curricular practices in schools. Alongside the influence of international music education, these curricular documents have influenced curricular practice and research in major ways until recently, for example in terms of introducing and researching “composing” as a new discipline in education. Parts of the research undertaken since the 1960s have been occupied with music and creativity in some way or another, for example Sundin (1963, 1998), Bjørkvold (1980, 1989), Folkestad (1996), and Espeland (2003). A noticeable erosion of confidence in what Barrett calls the “prescriptive, scientific, rational, linear, and falsely tidy paradigm of curriculum planning” also affects national curricula in Scandinavia, especially in Norway where a comprehensive national curriculum from 1997 still sets the framework for classroom work. However, these kinds of documents not only serve as a framework for curricular practice, but also as policy processes resulting in a written statement reflecting the condition, expectations, and strategies of the respective music education community. As such they tend to influence textbook authors, authorities, teacher education, and schools in a major way. This could explain why curricular documents as well as textbooks have been focused on Scandinavian research and scientific analysis since the 1970s onwards, for example 175 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 175–178. © 2007 Springer.

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Espeland (1974), Jørgensen (1982), Nielsen (1998), Varkøy (2001), and Johansen (2003). However, even if Scandinavian countries still use their tradition of national music curricula, there is little doubt of its erosion. This is perhaps not so much due to conscious reorientations in the music teacher community, but rather a consequence of lowered priorities and status from school authorities because of the focus on so-called basic skills such as reading and writing. In a recent Swedish evaluation of music in public schools (Sandberg, Heiling, & Modin, 2005), findings suggest that there are great differences in teachers’ frameworks and work conditions as well as in pupils’ musical knowledge in different schools, groups, and classes. Teachers’ use of the national curriculum, local plans, and other documents seems to be decreasing and curricular practice is increasingly built on teachers’ own competence and interest. This development suggests that music education is in the process of becoming more local than national and global and that differences between programs and teachers are growing. Krüger (2000) found that teachers’ webs of discourse could be characterized by expressions like “certainty” and “stability” as well as “dynamism” producing change. In any case the fact that Sandberg, Heiling, and Modin’s research – and other research and statistics as well – finds that teacher competence has been lowered in the last 10 years, is alarming. The dominant reason given by teachers and principals is that there is not enough time to carry through standards and curricula in low priority areas. The use of technology is a current trend in Scandinavian music education, reflecting a global phenomenon (in terms of its use in important industrialized countries on all continents). There can be no doubt that this particular area seems to be in the process of influencing current changes in music education inside as well as outside schools all over the world to a degree that seems to be unprecedented in music education history. The connections between music education and technology have been researched to some degree in Scandinavia, for example Folkestad (1996), Dyndahl (2003), and Arnesen (2005). Findings suggest that music technology not only influence music education, but also the phenomenon we call music. Only the future can tell to what extent technology may change curricular practices in music classrooms as well as the nature of music and music as a school subject, in Scandinavia as well as in the rest of the industrialized world.

References Arnesen, I. G. (2005). Musikkskaping med PC. Menneske og teknologi i partnarskap,-kven skaper kva? [Creating music with computers. Man and technology in partnership?]. Unpublished masters thesis, Stord/Haugesund University College, Stord, Norway. Bjørkvold, J. (1980). Den spontane barnesangen – vårt musikalske morsmål. [The spontaneous singing of children – our musical language]. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Oslo, Norway. Bjørkvold, J. (1989). Det musiske menneske [The Muse Within]. Oslo: Freidig forlag. Dyndahl, P. (2003). Musikk/Teknologi/Didaktikk. Om digitalisert musikkundervisning, dens diskursivitet og (selv)ironi. Oslo: Acta Humaniora nr. 152, Unipub. (313 s.). Espeland, M. (1974) Lœrebøker i musikk for barneskolen: En analyse. [Resource books for music in primary education: An analysis]. Unpublished main study dissertation, University of Trondheim, Trondheim, Norway.

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Espeland, M. (2003). The African drum: The compositional process as discourse and interaction in a school context. In M. Hickey (Ed.), Why and how to teach music composition: A new horizon for music education (pp. 162–192). Reston, VA: MENC, National Association for Music Education. Folkestad, G. (1996). Computer based creative music-making: Young people’s music in the digital age. Göteborg Studies in Educational Sciences 104, Gøteborg, Universitatis Gothoburgensis. Johansen, G. G. (2003). Musikkfa*g, lœrer og lœreplan – en intervjuundersøkelse av lœrerers fa*goppfatning i musikk og en ny lœreplans påvirkning av på denne [Music, teacher and curriculum – an interview based study on teachers’ perceptions of music and a new curriculum’s influence thereof ]. NMH Publikasjoner 2003:3, Oslo, Norway. Jørgensen, H. (1982). Sang og musikk. Et fa*gs utvikling i grunnskolen fra 1945 til 1980 [Singing and music: The development of a subject in primary education 1945 till before 1980]. Oslo: Aschehoug. Krüger, T. (2000). Teacher practice, pedagogical discourses and the construction of knowledge: Two case studies of teachers at work, Bergen University College Press- Report N. 1/2000, Bergen Norway. Nielsen, F. V. (1998). Almen musikdidaktik [General music didactology]. København: Akademisk forlag. Sandberg, R., Heiling G., & Modin C. (2005). Nationella utvärderingen av grundskolan 2003. Musik, ämnesrapport till rapport 253 [A national evaluation of Primary Education 2003. Music, Report 253]. Stockholm: Royal Academy of Music, Sweden. Sundin, B. (1963). Barns musikalska skapande. [Children’s musical creativity]. Stockholm: Lieber, Sweden Sundin, B. (1998). Musical creativity in the first six years, a research project in retrospect. In G. McPherson, B. Sundin, & G. Folkestad (Eds.), Children composing (pp. 35–56). Malmö Academy of Music, Lund, Sweden. Varkøy, Ø. (2001). Musikk for alt (og alle)-om musikksyn i norsk grunnskole. [Music for everything (and everybody)]. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of Oslo, Oslo, Norway.

11 EXPERIENCING THE VISUAL AND VISUALIZING EXPERIENCES Rita L. Irwin and F. Graeme Chalmers University of British Columbia, Canada

This chapter juxtaposes two interpretations of curriculum that have prevailed and shifted in nature over the past few decades. The first is curriculum-as-plan which is often understood to mean the curriculum-as-text. The second is curriculum-as-lived which is often referred to as currere, the Latin root word for curriculum. Currere, meaning “to run the course,” emphasizes the doing, being, making, creating, and living qualities of learning experiences, even though most people understand curriculum as extensive planning in order to specify content within scope and sequence identifications (see Aoki’s work in Pinar & Irwin, 2005). In art education these differences may be understood in another way. Curriculum-as-plan is often concerned with a subject-based approach and attends to experiencing the visual. Curriculum-as-lived is often concerned with a student- or society-based perspective, and attends to visualizing experiences. Despite widespread efforts to shift the field of art education to one or other interpretation, both have continued to exist in practice with the juxtapositions being used to refine, resist, partially embrace, or refuse the other. Recently, curriculum scholar William F. Pinar defined curriculum as a complicated conversation (2004). In this chapter, we illustrate art education curriculum and its research base as a complicated conversation by moving back and forth between themes embedded in experiencing the visual and visualizing experiences. As with any conversation, several points of view co-exist though one may be more persuasive than another. By embracing the metaphor of a complicated conversation, we also invite the reader to examine his or her tolerance for competing views. Henry Giroux, Anthony N. Penna, and William F. Pinar (1981) suggest that many curricularists denounce competing views by recommending a synthesis of ideas rather than demonstrating a variety of conceptions. We invite the reader to consider the future of art education (and its related research) as a complicated conversation by emphasizing the “and” between experiencing the visual “and” visualizing experiences. Both interpretations of art education curricula involve a visual component and an experiential component, though one interpretation understands curriculum 179 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 179–194. © 2007 Springer.

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(and art) primarily as a noun (plan), while the other understands curriculum (and art) primarily as a verb (lived). Recognizing that all orientations may share both conceptions to some extent, we highlight three perspectives within curriculum-as-plan: perceiving the visual, structuring the visual, and designing the visual. Within curriculum-as-lived, we highlight four different perspectives: visualizing expression, visualizing engagement, visualizing culture, and visualizing inquiry. Moreover, we attempt to provide a review of curriculum-related art education research and inquiry in Canada and the United States while providing a commentary on related practices in Australia, Britain, and New Zealand. Herein begins the complicated conversation between visualizing experiences and experiencing the visual with our conversation moving back and forth between the two interpretations of curriculum.

Visualizing Experiences as Visualizing Expression Creativity For much of the first half of the twentieth century a creativity or self-expression paradigm dominated the art education field. It has been suggested that the hundreds of research efforts related to creative thinking in the 1950s and 1960s (e.g., Torrance, 1963) both encouraged the cultivation of creativity in the education system and helped to foster individualism rather than collectivism in schools. The work of John Dabron (1958) in Australia, Herbert Read (1943) in Britain, Dudley Gaitskell (see Gaitskell Hurwitz, & Day, 1982) in Canada, Gordon Tovey in New Zealand (see Henderson, 1997), and Viktor Lowenfeld (1947) in the United States, were pivotal to this movement. They believed children had innate creative abilities that would be hindered by intellectualizing their art making. With the possible exception of Tovey’s acknowledgement of Maori art, children were not taught how to make connections between their art and their heritage, nor were they taught to consider questions of aesthetics. Instead an emphasis was placed on the creative and mental growth (see Lowenfeld, 1947) of children by using art as a tool to develop social skills and personal selfexpression. The creativity and self-expression paradigm emphasized the notion of curriculum-as-lived by encouraging children to be creative. This orientation was a student-centered curriculum that attended to visualizing expression and was heavily influenced by psychologists studying child development in art as well as studying philosopher John Dewey (1934), who wrote about art as experience. More recently, the creativity paradigm is exemplified in the work of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (1996), who advocates that creativity is developed through in-depth knowledge in a domain along with opportunities to stand outside and explore alternatives. Given these conditions, creativity flourishes within “flow” experiences when the creator is lost in an experience that allows for deep inquiry, wonder, and enjoyment. His theory is echoed by Anna Kindler (2004), and others, who believe creativity is neither biologically nor socially determined and is instead realized through a confluence of relationships among individuals, our society, and culture. Within art education, notions of creativity can be seen in the work of scholars such as Peter London (1989), whose interest in the spiritual in art and art education promotes visualizing expression not only

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for the self-expression of individuals, but also for communities as they work together to explore ideas of mutual interest. Even though the creativity and self-expression paradigm dominated art education for most of the twentieth century, other paradigms caused major ideological shifts in curriculum in the latter half of that century.

Experiencing the Visual as Perceiving the Visual Aesthetic Education One major shift away from visualizing expression within the creativity and self-expression paradigm came with a movement usually referred to as Aesthetic Education, an orientation concerned with perceiving the visual. Whereas the creativity paradigm could be conceived as fitting within a curriculum-as-lived understanding, the aesthetic education paradigm was a subject-centered orientation exemplified through curriculum-as-plan. Proponents of this paradigm, such as Manuel Barkan (1962) and Ralph Smith (1966) sought to further artistic and aesthetic sensibilities within human experience through the transmission of cultural heritage and a critical engagement with visual images and artifacts. In the 1970s, Edmund Feldman (1970) wrote a textbook that would become pivotal to defining the theoretical and practical implications of aesthetic education. However, the most influential reform effort in art education was undertaken by the Central Midwestern Regional Educational Laboratory (CEMREL) in the United States under the leadership of Stanley Madeja with Sheila Onuska (1977). Working with colleagues, they wrote an aesthetic education curriculum that was supported by many resource materials for teachers. During this time period, other art educators proposed renditions of the aesthetic education movement. For instance, Vincent Lanier (1982) called for aesthetic literacy to replace art education. Harry Broudy (1972/1994) advocated an aesthetic education program that cultivated an imaginative perception and aesthetic literacy with enlightened cherishing being the result. Elliot Eisner (1985) wrote about perceiving aesthetic qualities in educational practices, and particularly within curriculum, assessment and research. In more recent times, Maxine Greene (2001) has advocated an aesthetic education that develops aesthetic literacy and allows individuals an opportunity to perceive the qualities, values, and meanings within works of art that in turn may open up a greater appreciation for daily life and the natural world while engaging their imaginative and creative capacities. From another perspective, Ralph Smith (1989) advocates a humanities perspective that involves art history, art criticism, and aesthetic ideas with a view toward appreciating the insightful energy within an aesthetic experience. And yet a broader view of aesthetic education looks toward environmental and natural aesthetics. Arnold Berleant and Allen Carlson (1998) as well as Stanley Godlovitch (1999) in Britain look to nature as a genre in art and open up discussions for defining aesthetic contact with nature and how moral values towards nature might provoke ethical discussions and considerations. The common element across all of these renditions of an aesthetic education paradigm is the emphasis on perceiving the visual. Planned activities with a focus on perceiving images, artifacts, and the natural world help focus subject-based curricula across specific objectives, learning events, and assessment tools.

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Visualizing Experiences as Visualizing Engagement Arts Integration Visual art as part of a holistic scholarly education in the Far East has been important since the time of Confucius (see Tu, 1985). In the West, integrating the arts into other school subjects has become an area of great interest in recent years. Whereas the aesthetic education movement emphasized perceiving the visual within arts disciplines, attention has gradually moved to broad themes that reach across disciplines. In doing so, a counter balance has taken shape that can be characterized as visualizing engagement. The notion of visualizing engagement is premised on several features. First, recent research has shown that engagement in the arts positively affects a range of cognitive as well as personal and social competencies (see Fiske, n.d.). Second, this engagement in the arts encompasses a range of specialists working with young people. Major research reports were commissioned in each of Canada and the United States. In Canada, Rena Upitis and Kathryn Smithrim (2003) along with a team of researchers from across Canada (e.g., Grauer, Irwin, de Cosson, & Wilson, 2001) studied an artist-in-residence program called Learning through the ArtsTM (LTTA) funded by the Royal Conservatory of Music (the project encompasses all the arts). After three years of a national study, LTTA found a direct correlation between achievement in mathematical computation and the arts. Their findings were similar to the results found in the Champions of Change studies in the United States (see Fiske, n.d.), a collection that represented several groups of researchers working within or across the arts, in separate projects. Relevant to the visual arts, in particular, was a study conducted by Judith Burton, Robert Horowitz and Hal Abeles (1999). Overall, after reviewing all the studies within the Champions of Change group, consensus was found for a number of features: The arts reach students who are not otherwise being reached … . The arts reach students in ways that they are not otherwise being reached … . The arts connect students to themselves and/each other … . The arts transform the environment for learning … . The arts provide learning opportunities for the adults in the lives of young people … . The arts provide new challenges for those students already considered successful … . The arts connect learning experiences to the world of real work. (Fiske, n.d., ix–xii) Within many of the studies, a project-based approach to learning was used and best exemplified when students had direct involvement with the arts and artists, teachers were given professional development opportunities, learners were offered support in their engagement in artistic processes, students were encouraged to be self-directed learners who embraced complexity, and community members or organizations became engaged in promoting the arts within education. Thus, visualizing engagement is not only about students being actively involved in their own engagement with the arts, it is about artists, teachers, and community members visualizing their engagement in the learning process. This is well represented in the LTTA project mentioned above but also in the Chicago Arts Partnership in Education project (Burnaford, Aprill, & Weiss, 2001) in which artists-in-the-schools programs became very involved in helping teachers and students integrate the arts across the curriculum. It is also apparent in the work of

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Liora Bresler, Lizanne DeStefano, Rhonda Feldman, and Smita Garg (2000), who studied the impact of an artists-in-residence program in a variety of schools. They found that artists inspired “(i) the uses of imagination and the focus on the visual world to develop imagination; and (ii) the interrelationship of cognition and affect, and the different ways to cultivate their interdependency” (p. 27). Whereas the above studies emphasized research into artists-in-the-schools programs, other research has studied how classroom teachers integrate the arts throughout the curriculum. For instance Bresler (1995) found four styles of integration among teachers (1) subservient integration where the arts are used to enhance other subjects; (2) co-equal integration where the aesthetic dimensions of the arts complement other subjects; (3) affective integration where emotional awareness is tantamount; and (4) social integration where the social functions of education are highlighted. Don Krug and Nurit Cohen-Evron (2000) describe a continuum of four art education and curriculum integration perspectives revealed through the Transforming Education through the Arts Challenge (TETAC): (1) using the arts as resources for other disciplines; (2) enlarging organizing centers through the arts; (3) interpreting subjects, ideas, or themes through the arts; and (4) understanding life-centered issues. All of these studies point to the continuing interest in arts integration across the curriculum for young children.

Experiencing the Visual as Structuring the Visual Discipline-Based Art Education Intimately tied to the aesthetic education paradigm is discipline-based art education or DBAE (see Dobbs, 1998; Eisner, 1987; Greer, 1984). In this paradigm, structuring the visual becomes the emphasis. The work of art, representing the discipline of art, becomes the focus for all art learning activities. Students are taught how to view and talk about works of art as they analyze subject matter within philosophical, historical, and cultural contexts (see MacGregor, 1997). Students are also encouraged to create their own works of art; however, the difference between the creativity and DBAE/ aesthetic education paradigms rests with the positioning of art production. In the former, art is an expression of self within a student-oriented curriculum. In the latter, art is derived from studying the structures inherent in visual images or objects within a subject-based curriculum. In Britain a somewhat similar approach linking studio practice and critical and contextual studies has been termed “critical studies” (see Hickman, 2005; Thistlewood, 1991). Though DBAE and aesthetic education involves both curriculum-as-plan and curriculum-as-lived, using text (documents, curriculum materials) to experience the visual is a primary mode of orientation.

Visualizing Experiences as Visualizing Inquiry Art and Education as Practice-Based Inquiry Renditions of the DBAE/aesthetic education and creativity paradigms have persisted across Australia, Britain, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States. However

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differences exist. For instance, according to Douglas Boughton (1989), while Australian art education experimented with aesthetic education, design education, and integrated arts education, the dominant model has been a “ ‘disciplined’ form of studio” (p. 201) which is skill-based and product-oriented. Moreover, some Australian, British, and Canadian art educators are beginning to explore another paradigm that, thematically speaking, could be named “inquiry” (see White, 2004) because it emphasizes visualizing inquiry. While educators writing within the creativity paradigm speak of inquiry during the making of art, there are art educators, such as Graeme Sullivan (2005) and Rita Irwin (see Irwin & de Cosson, 2004), who believe artists both pose and solve problems while making and perceiving art. Sullivan advocates inquiry in the visual arts through the premise that art practice is research. Similarly, Irwin and her Canadian colleagues (e.g., Pearse, 2004; Springgay, Irwin, & Wilson Kind, 2005) write about the need for art educators and students to think of inquiry through the lenses of an artist/researcher/teacher engaged in ongoing reflective and reflexive practice-based inquiry. For example, Stephanie Springgay (2004) worked as an “a/r/tographer” with high school students who in turn became active inquirers as a/r/tographers themselves. In doing so, she was able to show the intercorporeality of inquiry as the embodiment of the arts and education in coming to know something. Closely related to these ideas is the work of Rudolf Arnheim (1969), who grapples with what it means to think visually, and the work of Howard Gardner (1989), whose Multiple Intelligence Theory formed the basis for the ARTS PROPEL research project and the subsequent inquirybased curriculum efforts at Harvard Project Zero. Using reflection as a fundamental tool for learning, ARTS PROPEL emphasized an approach to process portfolios that allowed students to be deeply engaged in specific project-based units of interest. For each of the mentioned inquiry-based approaches, curriculum is a process rather than a single text, or said another way, the process of currere is the product.

Experiencing the Visual as Designing the Visual Art and Design Education John Steers is a British art educator and the General Secretary of the National Society for Education throughArt and Design.The descriptor for the society is indicative of a long history of art and design education in Britain (other countries have design education but it is more prominent in Britain). In this instance design embraces two notions: design theory known as the elements, principles, and rules of design, as well as applied design known for its decorative objects, commercial art, and interior design. Essentially, in both instances, designing the visual is a way of structuring the visual qualities of an object in order to ensure a sense of beauty. Having said this, John Steers is critical of the 1992 and 2000 National Curriculum for art and design because of its orthodoxy of approach. The National Curriculum in Britain stems from a modernist approach derived from two influential ideas: The first stems from a tradition of working from direct observation and an emphasis on process … and perpetuated in secondary schools by the examination process.

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The second important influence comes from domain-based curriculum models that emerged first in the United States in the late 1960s and which later informed the development of assessment criteria for the General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) examinations in the mid-1980s. (Steers, 2004, p. 26) As a result, art and design education has evolved into a type of school art approach wherein young people often create formulaic images and concepts. Furthermore, the prescribed assessment practices have increased teachers’ reliance on particular kinds of projects that are regarded as safe. The result is an art and design education that lacks “any relationship to contemporary art and design activity beyond the school art room” (p. 27). Ironically, there are shifts occurring. The National Advisory Committee on Creative and Cultural Education (NACCCE) (1999) published a report that recommended the need for creativity across all subject areas in the curriculum. To realize this creative imperative, teachers would need to reclaim a professionalization that instills confidence in their abilities to be innovative while being comfortable with risky ideas. This is similar to Paul Tweddle’s (1992) notion of a third way for British schools: that is, a blending of polarities. It is here that we have come full circle, returning to the notion of visualizing expression through attention paid to creativity.

Visualizing Experiences as Visualizing Culture Visualizing culture, one of the most dominant threads in contemporary art education, is a way of understanding a variety of sociocultural interests being portrayed across art education. Most notably, cultural pluralism, social activism, visual culture, technological influences, and gender studies each describe an area within the notion of visualizing culture that speaks to an active involvement with a particular set of transformative sociocultural ideas. Each seeks to change cultural experiences by visualizing culture in alternative ways or, reflexively, by recognizing the pervasiveness of the visual turn within society and the inevitability of visualizing cultural studies. We turn to each of these areas now in more depth.

Cultural Pluralism In carefully documented reviews of research, New Zealander Jill Smith (2000, 2003) notes that the development of multicultural art education theory and practice parallels the evolution of general multicultural education, and, we would suggest, the U.S. Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s and 1970s. Stross-Haynes (1993) and others cite June King McFee (1961) as art education’s initial catalyst for much of today’s interest in art education and cultural diversity. Doug Boughton and Rachel Mason (1999) collected essays from an international range of authors that show differences in interpreting and implementing multicultural art education in various parts of the world. Sneja Gunew and Fazal Rizvi (1995) published their edited text Culture, Difference and the Arts in Australia. This book is a compilation of work by 15 different authors whose sometimes competing discourses

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remind us that multiculturalism is politically controversial and that debates surrounding cultural diversity and the arts are firmly located within this contested terrain. Gunew’s own chapter, “Arts for a Multicultural Australia: Redefining the Culture,” foreshadows contemporary work on the arts, transculturalism, and diasporic experience. Art educators have been very slow to address hybridity, although newer approaches to visual culture education have acknowledged the concept. Gunew emphasizes the tension between “where you’re from” and “where you’re at.” She views multiculturalism, as it then existed in Australia, as too benign. She could be talking about the “soft” multiculturalism that we see in many schools in the “developed” world. Rizvi’s own chapter, “The Arts, Education and the Politics of Education,” argues that “The school is a site for containing the effects of marginalization and oppression by promoting a fiction of tolerance between social groups in order to produce a society in which a certain truce exists between ethnic groupings and classes” (p. 64). For example, working in Vancouver, Ghanaian art educator Samuel Adu-Poku (2002) found that this was a fairly typical Grade 7 student response: “Multicultural education involves the celebration of Black History Month, Chinese New Year, Halloween, First Nations’ Potlatch, and Multicultural Potluck Nights at the school” (p. 186). An astute African-Canadian parent added, “Multicultural education does not mean anything other than a human relations exercise. Cultural inequalities are not addressed in the curriculum” (p. 165). Brian Allison (1995) in Britain, and Themima Kader (2005) in the United States, found similar situations commonly labeled as the “food, fun, and festivals” approach in their respective countries. To replace this “festivals” approach, Sonia Nieto (1999), who is not an art educator, has identified six criteria characterizing what has become known as critical (or insurgent) multiculturalism, an approach that we believe increasingly needs to guide art education’s approach to cultural pluralism: ●

● ● ● ● ●

Critical multicultural education affirms a student’s culture without trivializing the concept of culture. Critical multicultural education challenges hegemonic knowledge. Critical multicultural education complicates pedagogy. Critical multicultural education problematizes a simplistic focus on self-esteem. Critical multicultural education encourages “dangerous discourses.” Critical multicultural education admits that multicultural education in schools cannot do it all.

Among the few art educators who address such issues are Susan Cahan and Zoya Kocur (1996), whose book focuses on utilizing vocal contemporary artists from shifting and diverse American subcultures whose work speaks about oppression, identity, and social change. Graeme Chalmers (1996, 2002), Dipti Desai (2000), Elizabeth Garber (2004), and Patricia Stuhr (1994, 2003) are also among those who have embraced more “critical” notions of multicultural art education. In some respects “multiculturalism” has become a tired term that is no longer sufficiently comprehensive. It is being replaced by “inclusive education,” which, in addition to culture and ethnicity, considers students with disabilities, different learning styles, and varying socioeconomic backgrounds.

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Social Activism Multiculturalism has evolved and, as noted above, social justice issues (human rights issues, antiracist pedagogy, programs that address systemic discrimination, equity, inclusion, etc.) are increasingly being considered with art education. So too is the fact that the “preservation” of culture is highly subjective due to the “fluid” nature of cultures, and consequently multicultural education efforts must recognize the realities of hybridity (see Chalmers, 2002). In North America, education as social reconstruction can be traced back to George Counts (1932) who, in his book Dare the Schools Build a New Social Order?, argued that schools cannot be morally neutral, and that educators need to collaborate with other groups to effect social change. If art education is to be meaningful, we must not shy away from controversial themes. Although somewhat hesitant, the literature in art education is increasingly addressing such issues (e.g., Albers, 1999; Darts, 2004; Heath, 2001; Jeffers & Parth, 1996; Marcow-Speiser & Powell, 2004; Milbrandt, 2001). More than 30 years ago, American educator Vincent Lanier (1969) proclaimed that “[A]lmost all that we presently do in teaching art in … schools is useless” (p. 314). He believed that students needed to examine “the gut issues of [their] day” – war, sex, race, drugs and poverty, and argued, what we need … are new conceptions of modes of artistic behavior, new ideas of what might constitute the curricula of the art class. These new curricula must be meaningful and relevant to pupils … These new ideas must engage the “guts and hopes” of the youngsters and through these excitements provoke intellectual effort and growth. These new ideas must give the art class a share in the process of exploring social relationships and developing alternative models of human behavior in a quickly changing and, at this point in time quickly worsening social environment. (p. 314) Canadian David Darts (2004) examines the influence of popular and visual culture as informal educative forces, particularly in relation to citizenship, political agency, creative expression, and constructions of identity, and along with educators such as Henry Giroux (1996) (who has recently immigrated to Canada from the United States), supports pedagogical practices that help young people “understand their personal stake in struggling for a future in which social justice and political integrity become the defining principles of their lives” (p. 21). These researchers and essayists claim that art teachers have a major role in helping their students dare to build a new social order. Because the arts can be used in this way, art education has also promoted other, sometimes hidden, agendas. For example, examination systems, in particular, have sought to “colonize” outposts of empire and to “regulate” the indigenous “other” (see Abraham, 2003; Carline, 1968; Chalmers, 1999; Hickman, 1991).

Visual Culture As Kerry Freedman and Patricia Stuhr (2004) illustrate in their comprehensive review, a number of international art educators have argued for broad democratic definitions of the visual arts, to include other forms of material culture that have not been traditionally

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associated with the “fine” arts. Although still subject to some debate, this has generally come to be known as “visual culture.” Freedman (2003) sees visual culture education paying particular attention to “the objects, meanings, purposes, and functions of the visual arts students make and see every day” (p. 2). New Zealander Ted Bracey and Australian Paul Duncum (2001) edited a collection of position statements and responses by a small but international (Australian, Canadian, New Zealand, and the United States) group of art educators who take different and sometimes conflicting stances. In general the essays and responses focus on the concept of visual culture, the purposes and functions of visual material culture, and the conditions surrounding the production and comprehension of such visual material. This debate has been continued in a variety of contexts and in a variety of places. Kevin Tavin (2004) suggests that in the United States, and we would suggest in other parts of the world as well, disputes over the role of popular visual culture in art education has centered around such aspects as low culture vs. high culture, populism vs. elitism, mediocrity vs. excellence, and understanding social context vs. aesthetic experience. Tavin cites Duncum and other art educators who suggest that “When art educators admonish popular culture and critique the shift towards visual culture they usually base their arguments on theories of aesthetics, autonomy, originality, creativity, and cultural sophistication” (p. 102). In this same article Tavin goes on to identify and discuss an international array of scholars who, over the last 200 years, have viewed popular visual culture as “an embodiment of aesthetic and artistic suffering” (p. 101). Kerry Freedman’s (2003) book provides a comprehensive introduction to visual culture education for art educators. For those who wish to explore some of the foundational work by scholars outside art education we suggest international texts by Malcolm Barnard (2001), John Fiske (1989), Ian Heywood and Barry Sandywell (1999), Chris Jenks (1995), and Irit Rogoff (2000).

Technological Influences Art educators such as Paul Duncum (2000) concern themselves with ways to address the Americanization of global culture and issue a challenge to use new technologies to continue to create a sense of self and community. As Duncum states, “If art education has a future in the world of image saturation, it must engage with the images that are now characteristically world-wide. Unless it adopts a defensive stand, it has the opportunity also to contribute in an ongoing constitutive role to the globalisation of culture” (p. 178). Kevin Tavin and Jerome Hausman (2004) also claim that: Technologies have radically transformed areas of communication and transportation and have influenced profoundly our thinking and action. In particular, new technologies, driven by a global consumer market, make it possible for large numbers of people in virtually all areas of the world to experience “the same complex repertoires of print, celluloid, electronic screens, and billboards” (Duncum, 2001, p.1). In more and more areas of the world, people are constructing knowledge through pervasive forms of visual culture. (p. 48) A recent thematic issue of Studies in Art Education, guest edited by Don Krug (2004) is based on the premise that, in terms of educational technologies, we have

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reached the crossroads, and the papers in this issue attempt to “analyse critically our own positions, practices, and policies concerning the effective use of technology in learning” (p. 3). Krug and his contributing authors attempt to answer aspects of this question: “How has, does, and will technological literacy, technological fluency, and technology integration effectively support and enhance learning in and through the visual arts” (p. 3). The answers to these questions indicate just how much the field has moved since Vincent Lanier’s (1966) “Uses of Newer Media” project and the publication of the U.S. National Art Education Association’s first edited anthology on art education and technology (Gregory, 1997).

Gender Studies In an edited anthology, Georgia Collins and Renee Sandell (1996), consider the increasing number of diverse populations being taught and the types of delivery systems and settings in which they are taught. Authors describe models and means of improving the understanding of gender and achieving equity in and through art education. In a more recent anthology, and in a Canadian/United States partnership, editors Kit Grauer, Rita L. Irwin, and Enid Zimmerman (2003), include the written and/or illustrated work of 33 art educators. The three sections, on remembering, revisioning, and reconsidering issues, contain themes such as historical and contemporary accounts of women artists and art educators, teaching in non-formal contexts, mentoring, healing, friendships, intercultural women’s concerns, empowerment, spirituality, and retirement. Within art education there is a strong tradition of feminist scholarship dealing with gender identity (e.g., KeiferBoyd, 2003; Wagner-Ott, 2002). Less has been written about boys doing art, although a notable exception is the work of Australian Wesley Imms (2003), whose writing challenges and questions what he sees as dominant feminist theoretical frameworks. Sexuality too is a theme that is increasingly receiving attention in art education. Serious scholarly work has been accomplished, among others by, Canadian Kenn Gardner Honeychurch (1995) to extend the dialogue of diversity, and Brazilian Belidson Dias (e.g., Dias & Sinkinson, 2005). Honeychurch’s work identifies explanations for lack of attention to sexual subjectivity and articulates the values for art education of recognizing sexual plurality. In his recent work Dias is fascinated with the implications for art education of the work of Spanish film maker Pedro Almodovar. American art educators Ed Check (2004) and Laurel Lampela (2005) have been at the forefront of those who support queer students and teachers. They also show all art educators ways to integrate the art of lesbian and gay artists into art teaching and learning. Although visualizing culture pervades much of the discourse within current North American art education, a shift is beginning to be noticed in Britain, and perhaps in North America and elsewhere, toward more emphasis on creativity in the arts.

And to Complicate the Conversation Further We began this chapter by juxtaposing two notions of curriculum: curriculum-as-plan (or experiencing the visual) and curriculum-as-lived (or visualizing experience).

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Through the metaphor of curriculum as a complicated conversation, we moved back and forth between the two conceptions while considering the practices and policies of art education in Australia, Britain, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States. We should point out another way of complicating the conversation that we are unable to cover here: some scholars argue that “social advantage results in educational advantage … and the education system and the arts thus collude in reproducing social divisions” (Wolff, 1990, p. 204). Unfortunately this points to historical inequities based on class, race, gender, sexuality, and ethnicity (see Bourdieu, 1977). This said, curricularists engaged in complicated conversations should consider a variety of perspectives within each conception. By reflectively and reflexively residing in the space in between different perspectives, art education curriculum scholars and researchers can embrace many complicated conversations.

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Milbrandt, M. (2001). Addressing contemporary social issues in art education: A survey of public school art educators in Georgia. Studies in Art Education, 43(2), 141–152. National Advisory Committee on Creative and Cultural Education. (1999). All our futures: Creativity, culture and education. London: Department for Education and Employment. Nieto, S. (1999). Affirming diversity: The socio-political context of multicultural education. White Plains, NY: Longman. Pearse, H. (2004). Praxis in perspective. In R. L. Irwin & A. de Cosson (Eds.), A/r/tography: Rendering self through arts-based living inquiry (pp. 184–197). Vancouver, BC: Pacific Educational Press. Pinar, W. F. (2004). What is curriculum theory? Mahweh, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Pinar, W. F., & Irwin, R. L. (2005). Curriculum in a new key: The collected works of Ted T. Aoki. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Read, H. (1943). Education through art. London: Faber & Faber. Rogoff, I. (2000). Terra infirma: Geography’s visual culture. New York: Routledge. Smith, J. (2000). The multicultural art education debate: Internationally and in New Zealand. Australian Art Education, 23(1), 19–25. Smith, J. (2003). Literature review project: Beyond biculturalism: Multicultural art education for the plural societies of Aotearoa New Zealand. (Unpublished paper). Smith, R. A. (1966). Aesthetics and criticism in art education. Chicago: Rand McNally. Smith, R. A. (1989). The sense of art: A study in aesthetic education. New York: Routledge. Springgay, S. (2004). Inside the visible: Youth understandings of body knowledge through touch. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, The University of British Columbia. Springgay, S., Irwin, R. L., & Wilson Kind, S. (2005). A/r/tography as living inquiry through art and text. Qualitative Inquiry, 11(6), 897–912. Sullivan, G. (2005). Art practice as research: Inquiry in the visual arts. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Steers, J. (2004). Orthodoxy, creativity and opportunity. International Journal of Arts Education, 2(1), 24–38. Stross-Haynes, J. (1993). Historical perspectives and antecedent theory of multicultural art education: 1954–1980. Visual Arts Research, 19(2), 24–33. Stuhr, P. (1994). Multicultural art education and social reconstruction. Studies in Art Education, 35(3), 171–178. Stuhr, P. (2003). A tale of why social and cultural content is often excluded from art education – and why it should not be. Studies in Art Education, 44(4), 301–314. Tavin, K. (2004). Hauntological shifts: Fear and loathing of popular visual culture. Studies in Art Education, 46(2), 101–117. Tavin, K., & Hausman, J. (2004). Art education and visual culture in the age of globalization. Art Education, 57(5), 47–52. Thistlewood, D. (Ed.). (1991). Critical studies in art and design education. London: Heinemann. Torrance, E. P. (1963). Creativity. Washington, DC: National Education Association. Tu, W. (1985). Confucian thought: Selfhood as creative transformation. New York: SUNY Press. Tweddle, P. (1992). Arts education: The search for a third way for schools. Journal of Art and Design Education, 11(1), 45–59. Upitis, R., & Smithrim, K. (2003). Learning Through the ArtsTM National Assessment 1999–2002. Final report to the royal conservatory of music. Kingston, ON: Queen’s University, Faculty of Education. Wagner-Ott, A. (2002). Analysis of gender identity through doll and action figure politics in art education. Studies in Art Education, 43(3), 246–263. White, J. H. (2004). 20th-century art education: A historical perspective. In E. W. Eisner & M. D. Day (Eds.), Handbook of research and policy in art education (pp. 55–84). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Wolff, J. (1990). Questioning the curriculum: Arts, education and ideology. Studies in Art Education, 31(4), 198–206.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 11.1 A Middle Eastern Perspective on Visual Arts Curriculum Mohamad S. Shaban UAE University, U.A.E.

Middle Eastern countries such as Egypt, Sudan, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Syria, Kuwait, Iraq, Bahrain, UAE, Oman, Yemen, Palestine, Iran, Turkey, Libya, Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria share a common religious (Islamic), political, and cultural history which includes some period of occupation by western countries. Before this occupation Islamic Art was the most important source of artistic vision and visual expression. In contemporary times, it is rather difficult to find a major difference between what is happening in art education in the west and what takes place in the Middle East, although Bassiouny (1984) does identify some differences. Bassiouny, an American university graduate who is one of the leading art educators in the Middle East, has published a number of books and articles in art education and founded many of the art education departments in the area; he concludes that Differences result from various factors which shape indirectly, the taste and style of art education in the Middle East and which makes [sic] it look different from western art education. Within taste and style there is [sic] the tempo, attitudes, habits, and reaction to visual reality which the easterner has acquired through a long history of living in a certain environment. (p. 147) Carswell (1992) states that more specific guidance is appropriate when the child becomes capable of rational analysis. It is essential to facilitate awareness of the child’s own heritage. This can be accomplished through exposure, helping the child to perceive his or her place in time and as part of a cultural continuum, and to analyze his or her relationships to the past. In the Islamic world, this means an appreciation of Islamic art and architecture. Amru (2002) claims that the developmental theory of children’s drawings marginalized the role of the art teacher, leading the child to rely upon memory or lack of it for the visual experience. This has influenced instructional methods in different stages of schooling in the Arab world. Sadiq (1990) argues that the aesthetic value of an image 195 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 195–196. © 2007 Springer.

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is a reflection of the cultural and social roots which appears in one specific place and time. Therefore, he suggests that an art curriculum that is culturally and socially specific does not fully intersect with the traditional art curriculum. However, a socially and culturally specific art curriculum makes better connections between learners and the content of the curriculum. The main goal of this approach to art education is to understand human nature, including oneself, in a social environment through art making and experimenting, as well as talking about art, and connecting that with human values.

References Amru, K. (2002). The developmental theory of children’s drawings in light of contemporary research in art education. Abhath al-yarmouk: Humanities and Social Sciences Series, 18(3), 1245–1273. Bassiouny, M. (1984). Art education west to middle east. Cairo: Dar Al-Maaref. Carswell, J. (1992). Art education in the Islamic world. In W. Ali (Ed.), The problems of art education in the Islamic world (pp. 57–60). Amman: Ministry of Culture. Sadiq, M. (1990). The socially specified art curriculum and its reflection on the curriculum of art education. Abhath al-yarmouk: Humanities and Social Sciences Series, 6(1), 81–100.

INTERLUDE 12 ON LEARNING TO DRAW AND PAINT AS AN ADULT Decker Walker Stanford University, U.S.A.

How I Came to Study Drawing and Painting at Age 60 A few years ago as a full professor, within sight of the normal retirement age, I found myself needing to know more about visual design. I was teaching courses on the design of interactive media for teaching and learning. These courses were an outgrowth of my career-long interest in curriculum design and a decade-long fascination with the learning potential of computers and information technology. In these courses I asked students to create prototypes, mockups, and working models of teaching and learning materials meant for delivery through a video screen as works of interactive media. When the students showed me their designs I felt prepared to comment constructively on learning-related questions and also on their use of words for directions and instruction, but when it came to the visual aspect of their design, I felt at sea. I usually had opinions about the quality of the visual design and sometimes I told students my opinion, labeling it as “just my opinion” and emphasizing that I would not factor that opinion into my grade. Sometimes I would be confident that the way a screen looked either helped or hindered the design’s overall effectiveness and appeal, but even then I was often unable to support my conviction with a clear argument. This situation made me uneasy. I felt that I should be able to comment on the visual aspects of a design with as much confidence as I could comment on the words and the learning principles. And so I decided to devote some sabbatical time to developing my visual literacy. My goal was to become as able to judge the quality of visual design as I was to judge writing or the application of heuristics and principles of learning and teaching. The obvious way for me to develop this ability was to take courses in a department of art or visual design in one of the many nearby community colleges. I asked the most visually adept people I knew how they developed their skills. Without exception they said that they had taken courses in drawing, painting, and visual design. But when I looked at the lowest level courses offered in the art departments in my area, courses 197 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 197–202. © 2007 Springer.

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like “Beginning Drawing” and “Painting I,” the course descriptions made it clear that they were intended for artists or people striving to become artists. One such description read: “Have you found your paintings to be lacking in form and realism? This course will give you the foundation in drawing you need to move to the next level.” Everything about these courses suggested that they were designed for people who wanted to become artists, whereas I had no such ambition. I wanted to develop my understanding and skill in visual representation and visual design but for the purpose of designing utilitarian objects. What I thought I needed was a course like “Art for Klutzes” or “Drawing for the Humanities.” After all, English departments offer courses in writing for non-majors and business schools offer accounting courses for the non-financial manager, so why shouldn’t the art department offer serious, handson, skill-developing courses for non-artists? I didn’t find any such courses, so I did the best I could and signed up for several introductory drawing courses in various local institutions.

My Experiences in Art Classes My first thoughts on the first day of my first drawing class at the Pacific Art League of Palo Alto, a nonprofit organization by and for visual artists, were full of anxiety. What would these courses be like? Would I be able to learn what I wanted from such courses? Would they teach anything as simple and straightforward as how to draw a recognizable shape, or would they instead focus on other concerns important in the art world such as creativity, style, fantasy, and imagination? Would they be too difficult for me? Would I be embarrassed about my drawing? Would I find it hard to keep up with the artists in the class and to meet their standards of quality? I decided in advance that I was not competing with anybody, that I didn’t care if my drawings were laughably primitive, just so long as I could see them getting better. I was prepared to quietly ignore whatever didn’t serve my purpose and concentrate on whatever did. As it happened, I needn’t have worried. The teacher put some fruit and jars on a table, set up her paper and drawing board, and slowly and methodically made a basic drawing, explaining each step. Then she helped us set up our paper and charcoal and we drew something from the scene before us – not necessarily the whole setup, just whatever interested us. The teacher roamed the room offering practical help on matters such as how to hold the charcoal, how to make different kinds of marks and asking questions such as “Compare the shadow of this apple to the dark side of that jar. Which is darker? Now look at your drawing. Which is darker there?” One person asked for help in giving something the right proportions, so she showed us how to measure the relative height and width of an object using a pencil at arm’s length. She told us to check angles and compare the angles on our paper with the angles we saw on the table. We did several drawings that first class. Then at the end, we each hung a drawing on the wall and we walked around and looked at them and talked about them. We saw that no two were alike. We saw things in others’ drawings that we admired and things in our own that we liked. Some drawings were clearly more “advanced” than others – more

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fluent, more accurate, more interesting to look at, less clumsy – but that didn’t seem to matter much, certainly not to me. I was excited that I was able to do as well as I had done and even more excited that I had already learned about several things that, with practice, would make my drawings better. For 10 weeks, two times a week, we continued in this way. We drew different things – plants, paper bags, onions, our faces in a mirror. We focused on different challenges in drawing – measuring, controlling tones of light and dark, positive and negative shapes, composition. We tried various drawing strategies – contour drawing, drawing of planes, mass drawing, drawing with scribbles. The teacher demonstrated. We drew. We looked and talked. I learned a tremendous amount. My drawing got noticeably better (in my eyes). It was everything I could have hoped for. My other courses followed a similar pattern. I’ve been studying drawing and painting now totally for about 5 years, and I’ve rarely been disappointed in an art class. I wondered then and often since what it is about such art classes that has made them such marvelous learning environments for me. I should say that I’ve taken a great many post-secondary courses in many fields of study, dozens in physics and mathematics, at least a dozen in history, literature, philosophy, and education, but my only formal study of the arts was in musical performance – I played the tuba in the band and orchestra in my freshman year. I’ve learned a great deal from some of these courses, very little from others, and a modest amount from most. I’ve had some outstanding teachers, some weak ones, and many ordinary ones. In none of these fields have I felt such a string of learning successes as I have experienced in my study of drawing and painting over the past five years. Why? Are art teachers better than teachers of other subjects? Was I just lucky in finding excellent courses and teachers or did I do a particularly good job of selecting the right courses? Do I have heretofore unrecognized special interests or talents in the arts? Am I a better student now than I was earlier in my career? Any answer would be pure speculation, but there are some respects in which these art courses differed from most other courses I have taken and I believe that the answer lies in those differences.

What’s Different About Art Courses? Here are some of the ways that my experiences in these art courses seem to me to be very different from other courses I have taken in other disciplines. ●

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We started making drawings the first day and kept on making them every day. We didn’t spend weeks doing exercises to prepare ourselves to draw; we didn’t talk about how to draw first; and we didn’t read about, examine and discuss others’ drawings. In doing these drawings we were in a real sense doing art, engaging in the same kind of open-ended confrontation of ourselves with the subject that the greatest artists do. Our work may have been student level work, but the challenges we tackled were serious enough to engage the greatest artists. We were limited only by our skills and imagination, not by the problems set for us by our teachers. From Day 1 this was real, open-ended art, not just preparatory exercises. The teachers were doing art, too.

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In demonstrations teachers confronted the same complex subjects we confronted and created their own original drawings right before our eyes. This showed us what could be done and gave us a concrete, immediate image and model of an experienced artist drawing. Our work did not depend on abstract symbol systems. Words, written and oral, played an important but secondary and purely instrumental role. Words helped, but seeing, doing, and making were what we mainly did together. Each student made all the major decisions about his or her own work. We each decided what to draw from the tableaux before us, how large to make things, where on the paper to put them, how dark or light, how detailed, how realistic. As a result, the work was personal, bearing the stamp of each person’s individuality. Each mark is my mark and I must consider how I want it to look and feel and take responsibility for how it looks. These choices require me to look inside myself, to express my preferences and inclinations through my marks. And then when I make the mark, it reveals something of my inner self and something of my body and way of being in the world. It’s revelatory of something unique to me in a way that my solution to a math exercise or my answer to a multiple choice question cannot be. All work was public, observed and discussed by everyone. We didn’t do our work in privacy at our desks or at home and hand it in and get it back later with a grade. We put it on the wall for everyone in the room to see. Both teacher and students judged the quality of the work done, but there were no right answers. Standards teachers and students applied were complex, not simply right or wrong. People might say of some work or part of work that it is interesting, vibrant, mysterious, dynamic, subtle, bold, and so on and on. They might comment that shadows are placed incorrectly, that this form was well turned, and those proportions accurate. Standards are multiple and both tacit and explicit. It may seem strange, but we seldom discussed beauty and I can’t recall a single case of the use of any form of the word “creative.” We were all trying to make our drawings look better, but the word “beauty” didn’t seem to be of much help. We were all struggling to create a two dimensional representation of a three dimensional, full color reality using a burnt stick, but it didn’t seem to help to speak of this activity as “creative.” Most of our talk was direct and concrete. Where it was metaphorical, the metaphors were attempts to convey perceivable qualities. The art teachers I’ve been fortunate enough to study with have brought to their classes more of themselves as human beings than teachers in other fields. They dress as they normally dress when they draw or paint, not in a suit and tie. They talk in a normal voice, not like an orator. They seem to respond spontaneously. For instance, I’ve never seen a teacher of another subject be obviously startled and say something like “Oh, look at that color! Have you ever seen anything so stunning?” They talk freely about their life outside the classroom – their children, friends, lovers, fellow artists, freely exposing their likes and dislikes, though not imposing them on anyone else. Students see their moments of doubt as well as their moments of triumph. You don’t feel any barriers between their role as teacher, their role as artist, and their lives as persons. They seem to be genuine and direct. Perhaps it’s unavoidable. You can’t make a drawing without seeing and feeling and expressing who you are. Nor can you respond fully to the qualities of others’ work if you wall off parts of yourself.

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Is there a way to summarize these distinctive features? I haven’t found an adequate summary description. “Authentic tasks” carries part of the load. “Learning by doing,” another part. Cognitive apprenticeship, perhaps, or problem-based learning. But these leave out much that’s crucial: Discipline, practice, fault finding, setting personal learning agendas, responding to each students’ uniqueness, measured development of manual and perceptual skills over weeks, months, and years. For me, the key quality of these art courses is their directness. The learning I experienced benefited enormously from the full and direct contact with the art of drawing that these courses provided for me – no windup, no sugar coating, no pulled punches, no training wheels, no ramping up. This is drawing. And so is this. This is what it involves. This is how it feels. Here’s what you just drew. Here’s what other people drew. If you want your drawings to look “better” in some way, here’s how you can do that. Drawing’s not easy for anybody. Nobody has ever mastered it completely. All us artists are in this together doing the best we can.

What would school be like if students participated in some form of real mathematics all along? Impossible? Only if you take a very narrow view of what is mathematics. After all, the art we produced in our beginning classes was not suitable for exhibition in a museum. It was art as we were able to make it then. We could do mathematics in the same way, the teacher setting a complex problem of a mathematical sort, all the students doing their best within a given time frame to solve the problem, the teacher sometimes working along, sometimes helping students, and then showing and discussing their results. I wish now that I had, as a young person, learned mathematics, science, literature, history, philosophy, and education with the same directness. In fact, now that I think back on it, the best parts of my experiences in learning those subjects had the same quality of direct contact with people engaging in a profound human activity.

13 PROTEUS, THE GIANT AT THE DOOR: DRAMA AND THEATER IN THE CURRICULUM John O’Toole* and Jo O’Mara† * †

The University of Melbourne, Australia; Deakin University, Australia

Drama and formal curriculum have always had a relationship of mutual suspicion in Western society. Curriculum is often conceptualized with status and permanence: “The Curriculum.” Contemporary curriculum theorists such as Robert Stake (1998) ruefully understand this: “Actually, education occurs in complex and differentiated ways in each child’s mind … Goal statements are simplifications … Procedurally, Education is [still] organized at the level of courses and classrooms, then lessons and assessments” (p. 5). Drama, by contrast, exists in the moment – simultaneously concrete, protean and entirely evanescent: “a fistful of water … a land on which one can solidly place one’s feet and then fly,” as Eugenio Barba reminds us (1995, pp. 110, 118). In Western society, rather than wrestle with this conundrum, most curricula have excluded drama and its manifestations in performance that here we will call theater. Within school and college classrooms especially, drama is usually marginal or absent. For many traditional societies, dramatic play and performance have always been part of an ongoing artistic curriculum [see Chapter 4, “A History of Drama Education,” in this Handbook]. In Western education, this protean art has edged in and out of the curriculum in so many different forms that educational administrators have rarely known what to do with it. Drama flourishes: as extra-curricular activity in school musicals and promotional events; in drama clubs, speech training, self-expression, emotional development and confidence building; in the early childhood play corner; as part of syllabi in English classes; in vocational training and army exercises; as “theater for development” (TfD) with disadvantaged populations worldwide; as a pedagogy with implications across the school curriculum; re-discovered in cyberspace through role-play structures and interactive games (Carroll, 2004, p. 72).

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Paradigms of Purpose How on earth do we – most of us with little or no exposure to drama in our own education – encompass all those conflicting manifestations coherently in the overcrowded school timetable, label them, and teach them? If we define curriculum in terms of its purposes for the consumer, drama has potentially three distinct, imposing paradigms of purpose that tie in loosely with some or other of the manifestations above: ● ● ●

cognitive/procedural – gaining knowledge and skills in drama expressive/developmental – growing through drama social/pedagogical – learning through drama.

These paradigms have diverse manifestations in curricula worldwide, and each comprises more than one separate movement or tradition. In the last decade, a fourth and unifying paradigm has emerged, a consequence of drama bonding firmly with the other creative arts in a foundation common to all. ●

functional – learning what people do in drama.

Educational administrations are becoming increasingly interested in the Arts, as the rhetoric of corporations re-appropriates words like “creativity,” “communication,” and “teamwork.” The traditional mechanistic, fragmented, and individualistic curriculum of Western schooling serves society less and less well, and evidence emerges of the benefits of arts education to all aspects of schooling, including literacy and numeracy. This was prophesied in the 1930s by John Dewey (1934/1972), identified in the 1960s by Alec Clegg (1972), and definitively demonstrated in this millennium by The Arts Education Partnerships (Deasy, 2002). This fourth paradigm offers drama a place and parity with the other arts in the twenty-first-century curriculum.

Philosophies A range of philosophies, value systems, and ways of defining teaching and learning underpin drama practice and research, some of them conflicting. The strongest tradition historically is humanistic progressivism, promoted by Dewey and his many followers (e.g., Dewey, 1938/1963) and manifested to the present day in holistic, experiential and discovery-based approaches. However, more deterministic and behaviorist approaches to drama education drove the sociodrama movement (Jones, 1980; Moreno, 1953). In the 1950s and 1960s, the romantic ideas of Rousseau provided the impetus for “child drama” and “creative dramatics.” That was challenged in the 1970s onward by a new generation, inspired by Brecht (1964) and intent on using drama to interrogate received ideas and replace established social orders. This was in itself challenged by the critical relativists of post-modernity, and bitter battles erupted. Most contemporary drama practitioners and theorists espouse constructivist ideas and pursue their research through forms driven by dialogue rather than dogma. The most influential developments in drama curriculum have emerged from praxis: theory and practice developing together

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in response to social and educational contexts. The scholarship has overwhelmingly been provided by practitioners, some of whom, like Slade (1954), Ward (1947), and Bolton (1979), certainly treated formal research methods with respect. There is now an increase in the amount of formal research being undertaken in the field.

The Cognitive/Procedural Paradigm – Learning About Drama Learning about the art form of drama may be divided into two complementary but very different movements, each with its own purposes and curricular positioning: 1. Drama as literature/theater science/performance studies. 2. Theater arts skills and training.

Drama as Literature This is drama’s longest continuous establishment in schools, colleges and universities. Drama is still taught within some literature courses, in the English-speaking world mainly through English and Liberal Studies classes. The basic principle of this has been that students should be given access to and perhaps experience of this classic art form as part of their cultural heritage, thus regarding knowledge of the canon of dramatic literature as an essential pre-requisite for a fully educated adult: “all this, together with an understanding of drama’s place in a wider culture, amounts to a contextualizing of experience which is an essential and embracing aspect of the dramatic curriculum” (Hornbrook, 1991, p. 112). Young people are taught to appreciate drama primarily as consumers, both to generate audiences for adult theater and for its supposed civilizing influence: “Children are led towards the appreciation of drama … and the works of the great dramatists, and thus towards the true and full humanity that such an experience brings” (Burton, 1955, p. 21). This cultural heritage model has been contested within English teaching (Thomson, 2005, p. 19) and newer models of English teaching have emerged in parallel with changes experienced in drama. Ironically, drama as literature is usually taught sitting down, reading theater as literary text or watching films and occasionally, stage performances. In the early twentieth century, Caldwell Cook (1917) bravely challenged this sedentary study by moving the desks and encouraging his students to bring Shakespeare to life as actors. Since then, enterprising teachers have done their best with inflexible classrooms and schoolhalls to ensure that their students somehow experience drama as performance. In many schools the regular school play or dramatic competition has provided a co-curricular complement and an opportunity for the talented to strut their stuff, which raises the question of where dramatic artists get their training.

Theater Training For many young children, the urge to perform in public is very strong and countless professional actors ascribe their start to self-organized epics in drawing room, street or

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classroom corner. Many schools provide co-curricular drama clubs and school performances. The first professional acting schools, such as England’s Central School of Speech and Drama, were founded in the early twentieth century. In recent years, as a career in dramatic art has become more respectable, some local education authorities have created performing arts high schools or senior courses. Interestingly, research in Australian and English drama schools indicates that many reject the notion of “education” in favor of “training” for stage and screen (Prior, 2004, p. 265). The tertiary academies have themselves spawned an industry of private drama schools for adults and children.

The Expressive/Developmental Paradigm – Growing Through Drama From the nineteenth century, educational scholars have recognized that dramatic play is an important part of human development, inspired by Rousseau’s freewheeling philosophies of childhood in Emile (1762/1956). Among the most influential was Karl Groos, whose studies into imitative play led to his startling conundrum that higher animals and humans “cannot be said to play because they are young and frolicsome, but rather they have a period of youth in order to play” (1896/1976, p. 66). This was part of the driving force for the “New Education” movement centered on the child, and on “activity learning”: “the New Education treats the human being not so much as a learner but as a doer and a creator” (Quick, as cited in Bolton, 1984, p. 8). Hand in hand with this came the awareness that drama might play its part in children’s growth and self-development through formal schooling. As early as 1898, an English Board of Education Report speaks approvingly of the beneficial effect of practical drama on “vitalizing language and quickening the perceptive and expressive faculties of boyhood,” an encouragement that is repeated with greater emphasis in the Board’s Handbook for Teachers in Elementary Schools (1929) and even more so in the report of an adult education committee on Drama in Adult Education (1934). (Allen, 1979, p. 10) This quotation by a 1970s Schools Inspector for Drama indicates the growing approval throughout the century for drama in formal schooling, and not just for young children. By the mid-1950s, books such as Bishop E.J. Burton’s Drama in Schools (1955) were claiming a distinct place in the curriculum, with an eclectic rationale that privileged “imaginative play,” especially for young children.

Creative Dramatics At that time two influential movements became the cornerstones of this creative/ expressive curriculum. In the United States this was mainly known as “creative dramatics” or “playmaking”; pioneer Winifred Ward uses these terms interchangeably in her seminal book Playmaking with Children (1947), a developed version of the

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theories and practices she used in the public schools of Evanston Illinois, first described in Creative Dramatics (1930). In the United Kingdom the impetus was Peter Slade’s Child Drama (1954). The books are very different, but they may be usefully compared, as both set their national curricular tone for the next 20 years. Both are written by confident and skilled practitioners, their practice informed by a clearly stated theory of child-centered and developmental education. They both unequivocally articulate ideals of the expressive and creative power of drama. Both take as their starting point children’s natural dramatic play, not dramatic text but improvisation, acting out stories and various forms of role-play. Ward, writing that “the arts add immeasurably to the richness and enjoyment of living” (1947, p. 5), was deeply influenced by philosopher Hughes Mearns and his books on creativity (e.g., Mearns, 1929). She lays out her creative and expressive curricular objectives quite clearly: 1. 2. 3. 4.

To provide for a controlled emotional outlet. To provide each child with an avenue of self-expression in one of the arts. To encourage and guide the child’s creative imagination. To give young people opportunities to grow in social understanding and co-operation. 5. To give children experience in thinking on their feet and expressing ideas fearlessly (Ward, 1947, pp. 3–9). Her developmental plan addresses the formal education systems – the book’s sub-title is “from kindergarten through junior high school” – and the final chapter discusses the teacher’s role in playmaking. It is full of vivid anecdotes and practical advice that can be (and constantly has been) lifted straight into the classroom. From its inception, there has been a strong research base to the creative dramatics movement. In 1961, an effort was made to bring together the research and scholarship in the new field in Children’s Theater and Creative Dramatics (Siks & Dunnington, 1961). Jack Morrison writes in the foreword: Scholarship, experiment (true experiment), and new techniques revealing hitherto unavailable aspects of human beings and their relationships to themselves as well as their world must be used to give us and our children deeper insights and new opportunities to grow in ways that will match an open-ended universe … By examining the field of children’s theatre systematically and with demands for reportage and careful scholarship [this book] seeks not only to bring the field into focus but also to give a more meaningful artistic experience for children. (1961, pp. vii–viii) The chapters are all based on formal research or practitioner experience and cover a wide ranging use of creative dramatics at the time including values education, exceptional children, religious education, correctional institutions, community programs, and recreational programs, written by distinguished authors such as Barbara McIntyre and Nellie McCaslin. This strong, broad research base has provided solid ground for later developments.

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Child Drama and Creative Drama Like Ward, Slade (1954) worked developmentally, but with little regard for the formal educational systems into which his disciples would spend the next decades trying to fit his principles. The book is free-wheeling, opinionated and passionate, wholeheartedly centered on his revolutionary discovery: that Child Drama (he loved emphatic capitals) has a life of its own, and exists as an art form in its own right, with intrinsic purposes, control of form and outcomes that are self-contained artworks. Slade’s book is brilliant, if uncontrolled, practical educational research, crammed with detailed examination and analysis of children’s play and classroom drama, with dialogue, photographs, and diagrams laying out for the reader the mechanics of the creative processes he observed. Slade acknowledges that the dramatic forms, skills, and conventions change and grow as the Child develops, but not that they “improve”; the product of each agerange is sufficient unto itself: The period [age 5–7] is one of increasing skill, of great enchantment, and the extra sensitivity that is developed brings the Child to the threshold of the most wonderful years of dramatic fulfillment. We find exquisite moments in their new Drama creations from now on, in which deep soul experiences and ice-cold logic walk hand in hand. (1954, p. 51) Curriculum planners do not know what to do with this kind of artistic outpouring either from children or their theorists, and one might question whether it is even “learning.” However, Slade’s collaborator Brian Way (1967) systematized Slade’s principles into a way of working that could be managed in a conventional classroom and timetable. Improvisation was still the basis, but mainly as structured dramatic exercises, many of which came from formal theater and rehearsal techniques. The emphasis was still clearly on the individual child’s personal development. In the 1970s and 1980s, Way’s book was often the only drama book found in schools, particularly in countries distantly influenced by Slade, such as Australia and Canada. Its descendant is the cheerful exercise-based theatricality of Keith Johnstone’s Theatersports (1999), which belongs within this creative/expressive paradigm. In the United States, a similar confluence with theater happened. The Children’s Theater Movement had been developing from the early twentieth century and it was not until the 1950s that a distinction was made between children’s theater and creative dramatics. McCaslin (1961) wrote, “This clarification, for which Winifred Ward must be given credit, seems important since it has led to the distinction between product and process” (p. 26). Many teachers combined the acting exercises of Viola Spolin (1983) with Ward’s ideas, the influence of which can be seen in the next generation of drama educators such as Siks (1983) and McCaslin (1996). Perhaps because of Ward’s more system-friendly structures, these pioneers have generated a more natural and peaceful evolution into the next paradigm of drama curriculum than happened in the United Kingdom. In the late 1960s and 1970s, a quantum leap forward from Slade’s principles would largely sweep his writing and influence into the archives, and bury them both behind

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the new paradigm and also in an acrimonious battle between the drama of process and the art of theater, to which Slade himself contributed (Allen, 1979). However, recent research into dramatic play (e.g., Dunn, 2003; Lindqvist, 1995) has reinforced Slade’s discovery that children’s play contains artistry. Moreover, after 20 years as an almost taboo word in education, the word “creativity” has made a spectacular comeback in the lexicon of curriculum, driven by corporate awareness of the need to address the twenty-first century with creative thinking (Florida, 2004; NACCCE, 1999).

Related Movements Speech/Speech and Drama A parallel movement has been the Speech movement, based on developing self-confidence through the ability to express oneself articulately and appropriately. This found its way into some state schooling in the United States but in other English-speaking countries mainly dwelt on the co-curricular edge. In United Kingdom and Australia it was usually known as “Speech and Drama” and tended to have strong class connotations of a single “correct” language and deportment. However, Clive Sansom, a British Speech and Drama teacher, became Director of Education in Tasmania and left a strong tradition of language through drama in the primary classroom in Australia (Parsons, Schaffner, Little, & Felton, 1984). Speech and Drama gained strong purchase in the 1960s to 1980s in tertiary colleges, particularly in teacher training, aiming to give pre-service teachers self-confidence with language, creativity with ideas and show them how to develop these skills in their students. The great majority of the college speech and drama departments created at this time have morphed into professionalized and specialized drama units. Ironically, as this has happened, the amount of speech, communication, and confidence training for trainee teachers has dwindled, often to none.

Psychodrama The Psychodrama movement was founded by Jacob Moreno, combining psychoanalysis and theater directing, firstly as therapy, then as learning. He came to psychodrama via treating neurotic actors in Vienna (Nolte, 2000, p. 210). This has subsequently been appropriated by clinicians, for the treatment of mental illness. It is based on role-play, usually on a one-to-one basis with a therapist, where episodes of traumatic memory or dangerous fantasy are dramatized and re-played in various ways, to try and remove hurt or minimize risk. On the whole, educators have shied away from this kind of drama therapy, though Bishop Burton (1955) urges that “drama, then, like every great art, has a cleansing and therapeutic effect … the teacher … has within his charge those who might develop in such directions and he has in drama a means of bringing them to normality and health” (p. 20). Only since the late 1980s have the psychodramatists and educators started edging towards each other, particularly through the research of Robert Landy (1994) and Sue Jennings (1987), but there is growing research on how drama might affect change in the lives of its participants (Brice Heath & Roach, 1999; O’Toole, Burton, & Plunkett, 2004).

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The expressive/creative purposes may no longer be the dominant paradigm in curriculum development, but they are far from forgotten, and they are in fact quite a preoccupation of contemporary research in drama, with a particular focus of research on the power of drama to promote self-expressiveness and creativity in people with special needs (e.g., O’Connor, 2003; Raphael, 2004), and in gender identity (e.g., Gallagher, 2000; Sallis, 2004).

The Social/Pedagogical Paradigm – Learning Through Drama Drama-in-Education The idea that in schools work and play are not opposite but complementary (The Hadow Report 1931 in Allen, 1979, p. 19) can be taken further: some play theorists propose that the curriculum itself might be encompassed in drama structures, where children might scaffold their learning through the “dual affect” of role-play and reality (Vygotsky, 1933/1976, p. 548). From the late 1960s a clear pedagogy of drama emerged, revolutionary and yet not new, based on using improvised drama for the creation and enactment of realistic models of human behavior. Originally known as “drama-in-education” or “educational drama,” it is often now referred to as “process drama.” B-J. Wagner describes its goal as “to create an experience through which students may come to understand human interactions, empathize with other people, and internalize other points of view” (1998, p. 5). It provided the tools for using drama as a teaching method across the whole curriculum, to produce deep understanding and higher-order thinking, learning that was holistic and experiential, not just cognitive – in Gavin Bolton’s words, “change in a participant’s understanding of the world” (1984, p. 148). The groundwork for this movement can be traced to Harriet Finlay-Johnson in an English village school, who created the first known integrated dramatic curriculum: “Everything to be taught (History, Geography, Scripture, Nature Study, Poetry, Shakespeare, and Arithmetic) was adapted to dramatic action” (Bolton, 1984, p. 11). She anticipated Slade and encouraged children to structure their own drama; she used plays as well as improvisation. The indefatigable Bishop Burton had probably read Finlay-Johnson’s The Dramatic Method of Teaching (1911), since he notes drama’s “application as a method of teaching in various subjects – Scripture, English, the visual arts, geography, history and physical education” (1955, p. 21); apparently arithmetic did not make his list. Winifred Ward warns that “drama is an art, not a tool for making learning easy” (1957, p. 154), but then goes on to describe her own action research projects in history, natural science, art and creative writing, stressing drama’s potential to help integrate learning in the primary school. The drama-in-education movement was kick-started by pioneer British educator Dorothy Heathcote. Working from her profound understanding of how children play and her own highly developed theatrical skills, she attracted many followers, often gifted teachers and researchers themselves, who theorized Heathcote’s work and enabled it to be developed into curriculum. For example, Wagner wrote the first sustained

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analysis of Heathcote’s work in her best-selling book Dorothy Heathcote: Drama as a Learning Medium (1976); Gavin Bolton (1979) as well as Heathcote and Bolton (1995) gave Heathcote’s work its theoretical basis; Cecily O’Neill (1995) and John O’Toole (1992) identified the art form within and added structural diversity; David Booth (1994) crafted dramatic narrative for depth of understanding; David Davis (Roper & Davis, 1993) and Jonothan Neelands (1996) toughened up its political and social credibility; and Norah Morgan and Juliana Saxton (1989, 1994) analyzed and identified the components for generalist teachers, as well as the most basic skill that drama both demands and provides, that is, effective questioning. These and a host of other practitioner-theorists (see Bowell & Heap, 2001; Bunyan & Rainer, 1995; Manley & O’Neill, 1998; Miller & Saxton, 2004) have developed Heathcote’s instinctual tour-de-force into manageable pedagogy. Heathcote and the drama-in-education movement took a quantum leap forward in curriculum. Process drama’s characteristics include that the drama is always improvised, creating the learning context on the spot in the classroom, with the learners all involved as participants in making the drama and as characters within it – unfolding as it goes along, rarely complete, and never entirely pre-ordained. Therefore the drama is episodic, the improvised scenes frequently stopping for re-planning or shifting the dramatic action. What Heathcote called “living-through role-play” (1984, p. 48) is still usually the central dramatic technique used; a range of other improvisational and theatrical techniques, usually known as conventions, are employed to shift the point of view or the dramatic distance. There is no external audience: The participants are engaged in the moment, which exists for their own experiential learning, not for communicating to others. Accordingly, reflection is usually built-in within the action, or through discussion. The drama thus always incorporates the students’ ideas and suggestions, sometimes changing its original objectives and goals, if a productive idea is suggested. This of course also means that it builds, in the best tradition of constructivist learning, on what the students already know and can contribute. The purpose of the drama is never just to enact, but to problematize, to make the children ask questions and interrogate the learning context. The teacher takes part actively, not only structuring the dramatic action as playwright and director, but through the key technique of teacher-in-role, as an actor/character in the unfolding drama. The curricular implications are potentially far-reaching and have been well researched in studies of drama curriculum and teaching (see Dunnagen, 1990; Flynn, 1995; O’Mara, 2000; Scheurer, 1995; Taylor, 1998; Warner, 1995). Not only can drama be used to teach standard subjects in a first-hand, experiential way, but the students themselves can have a say in negotiating the dramatic action and the themes explored, and the social or personal use that will be made of the “change of understanding” that is the outcome. This gives real meaning to Garth Boomer’s phrase “negotiating the curriculum” (1982). As Courtney (1980) writes, “In the classroom … the teacher is working with living immediacy. Curriculum results from this encounter” (p. 67). Particularly in the United Kingdom, teachers carried this philosophy into a direct concern with social issues: Change of understanding came to be synonymous with “changing society.”

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However, this fact is barely acknowledged by mainstream educational theorists, who just don’t know about process drama; for instance, drama figures nowhere in Australia’s influential Productive Pedagogies (O’Toole, 2003, p. 40). Moreover, the characteristics of process drama noted above demand a range of skills from teachers that are outside, and run counter to, their experience and training. Few teachers have themselves encountered drama in their own schooling, fewer still sufficient to give them the artistic understanding to select and shape dramatic narrative, focus, and conventions. Even more significantly, teachers usually operate more as they themselves were taught: as purveyors of content rather than as facilitators of learning, in large institutions driven by hierarchical structures of power and status, and by imperatives of discipline and control. Stake alludes to this phenomenon in the first quotation in this chapter, and it can be seen in schools anywhere. Teaching through dramatic process entails suspending teachers’ status, relinquishing some of their sovereignty over knowledge, even putting themselves in the hands of the students-in-role (Warren, 1993). This is daunting to many teachers; cosmetic in-servicing in the new pedagogy has been shown not to work for most, though there are now readily available drama education resources in most school systems in English-speaking Western countries and on the Web, such as the excellent new Queensland and New Zealand Arts Syllabuses (Queensland Studies Authority, 2002; New Zealand Ministry of Education, 2002). Most primary generalists and secondary history, science, and English teachers have neither the time nor the motivation for that, even if the financial and skills resources were available.

Associated Forms Socio-drama/Role-play Training Meanwhile, two movements using drama as pedagogy, with quite separate origins from drama-in-education, have become established in the curriculum of adult education. The first of these, “socio-drama” – more often referred to nowadays as “role-play training” or “simulation” – largely derives from Moreno, the founder of Psychodrama. This mutated form has distanced itself from its dramatic origins: “A casual visitor looking at creative drama sessions could well mistake them for a role-play simulation in progress” (van Ments, 1983, p. 158). Its purpose is to use role-play to teach and assess procedural knowledge in adult training contexts. It can entail small-scale role-plays, sometimes scripted or semi-scripted, to an audience given the task of assessing the role-players for the correctness of their procedures. Alternatively, it can be in the form of large-group simulation exercises, from fictional office dilemmas exploring ethics in decision-making (Chalmers, 1993) to whole battalions of troops and warships on strategic exercises, which in the end, are all just make-believe, subject to the conditions that make for good or bad drama. Simulation and role-play (rarely called drama in this context either) are being enthusiastically embraced by Internet educators, who are beginning to use the technology to create conditions of interactivity very akin to the process drama classroom (see Ip and Linser, 2005; Vincent, 2005).

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Theater for Development The second of these movements, theater for development, is a way of consciousnessraising in developing countries, mainly among poor, traditional communities. Theatre for Development seems a naturally attractive way of communicating with remote people with high illiteracy rates and little access to television, radio, and computers, to propagate modern sanitation and health, environmental management, avoidance of HIV-AIDS, or the basics of democratic elections. Many governments and organizations like UNICEF have generously funded it, for nearly thirty years (for a good introduction, see Mumma, Mwangi, & Odhiambo, 1998). This was originally in the form of small groups of players touring the communities, sometimes on foot or bicycle, with westernstyle plays-with-a-message, sometimes engaging the audiences in discussion (e.g., Pattanaik, 2000). Where communities might be resistant, as for instance to modern sanitation practices that contravene traditional mores, subtler techniques have been used, such as touring the schools and engaging the children, assisting them to create theater themselves to convince their parents (Dalrymple, 1996) or using the community elders as actors to “listen to your mothers” (Nyangore, 2000). Another model has been to work with communities where there already is a Western theater tradition, such as a school theater festival (e.g., Mangeni, 2000). However, local resistance to being given gratuitous advice by outsiders, especially in alien artistic forms, can be severe and even hostile, and to prevent the experience becoming counterproductive, Theater for Development is changing. Now more frequently facilitators are sent to communities, to work with them to discover their concerns, and with them create theater on these issues based on their own local traditional performance forms (e.g., Prentki, 2003). The other side of this community pedagogy is that, if theater can be used by governments and NGOs to question traditional life and practices, it can equally be used by those opposed to governments, to challenge the assumptions of the powerful and sow questions and subversion among their subjects. In Western societies, protest demonstrations – themselves a form of theater – frequently incorporate some form of theatrical performance to catch attention. In the developing world, the revolutionary demand for universal empowerment through literacy via Paolo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970) has found expression in Theatre of the Oppressed, articulated by the Brazilian educator/theater artist Augusto Boal and his followers (Boal, 1979; Schutzman & Cohen-Cruz, 1994). They have harnessed common theater exercises, games, and techniques of audience participation into a system of interactive theater that is found now all over the world, particularly the form Boal dubbed “forum theatre.”

The Unifying Paradigm – Learning What People Do in Drama In the late 1980s, a new paradigm for drama and other arts education began to emerge in schools, most clearly in Australasia. Where all three of the above paradigms existed in varying, and uneasy, proportions, it presented itself as a practical problem: the ratio of

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theory to practice within the formal syllabus assessment. What did this mean? So much in theater and drama, as in all arts, embodies both: Is a director’s log-book or a scriptwriting exercise theory or practice? Might drama work be more usefully classified for teaching and assessment? At this time Australia was organizing its curriculum into Key Learning Areas (KLAs), and drama was lining up with the other creative and performing arts. This involved a conscious decision to move drama away from the protective hegemony of English. Drama was both looking for commonality and jockeying for territory with the longer established music and visual arts. Arts education philosophers gave us all a way of providing the systems with a comprehensible structure for managing learning and assessment in all the arts, one that is better than theory versus practice. In simple terms, this consisted of the philosophers asking what people do when they engage in the arts (Lett, 1978). This then gave drama a way of unifying the three competing paradigms, in a new set of three dimensions: making (in drama: playwright, improviser, director, designer), presenting (in drama: actor, technical crew), and responding (in drama: audience, dramaturge, critic). All the arts can fit fairly comfortably within these three functions, though presenting may be less significant for visual artists. With some variation of nomenclature, these three dimensions have become widely accepted as the organizing principles of Arts Education and the Arts Key Learning Area, throughout Australasia, and also in the United Kingdom: making/forming/creating; performing/presenting/communicating; responding/reflecting/appraising.

Conclusion This model continues to make slow progress towards curricular establishment in Western educational systems. Painfully slow as, for all the new curriculum rhetoric, education systems’ traditional double suspicion of drama (as on one hand trivial “play” not “work,” and on the other, potential subversion or disruption) prevents most of them (New Zealand honorably excepted) from properly funding syllabus implementation programs to counter teachers’ ignorance, fear, lack of training, and lack of skills in drama. Walking alongside these curriculum developments, there is a growing body of research examining the learning that occurs in drama, focusing on current curriculum concerns. It is not surprising then that much of this centers on literacy skills and multiliteracies in the United States (Crumpler & Schneider, 2002; Wagner, 1998; Wilhelm, 2002), in Australia (Hertzberg & Ewing, 1998; Martello, 2002; O’Mara, 2004), in Canada (Laidlaw, 2005; Miller & Saxton, 2004), and in the United Kingdom (Ackroyd, 2000; Baldwin & Fleming, 2003). Other foci of contemporary drama curriculum research include drama and the new technologies (Carroll, 1996, 2002, 2004) drama and intercultural education (Donelan, 2002; O’Farrell, 1996) and drama in the development of ethics and morals (Wagner, 1999; Wilhelm & Edmiston, 1998; Winston, 1997, 2000). As Saldaña and Wright (1996) remind us, The generally skeptical social climate of today, and those with power to distribute funds and mandate programs, demand justification and accountability. Research

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has the potential in this field not only to reveal new insights and to improve our practice, but to serve as an agent for advocacy – to show decision makers that drama and theatre for youth “works.” (p. 129) Drama, the playful giant, is knocking at the door, but despite its protean wiles, it is barely over the threshold yet.

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Nyangore, V. (2000). Listen to your mothers. In J. O’Toole & M. Lepp (Eds.), Drama for life (pp. 77–84). Brisbane: Playlab Press. O’Connor, P. (2003). Reflection and refraction: The dimpled mirror of process drama. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. O’Farrell, L. (1996). Creating our cultural identity. In J. O’Toole & K. Donelan (Eds.), Drama, culture and empowerment (pp. 125–130). Brisbane: IDEA Publications. O’Mara, J. (2000). Unravelling the mystery: A study of reflection-in-action in process drama teaching. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. O’Mara, J. (2004). At Sunny Bay: Building students’ repertoire of literacy practices through process drama. In A. Healy & E. Honan (Eds.), Text next: New resources for literacy learning (pp. 119–136). Newtown, NSW: PETA. O’Neill, C. (1995). Drama worlds. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. O’Toole, J. (1992). The process of drama. London: Routledge. O’Toole, J. (2003). Drama, the productive pedagogy. Melbourne Studies in Education, 43(2), 39–42. O’Toole, J., Burton, B., & Plunkett, A. (2004). Cooling conflict: A new approach to managing conflict and bullying in schools. Sydney: Pearsons. Parsons, B., Schaffner, M., Little, G., & Felton, H. (1984). Drama, language and learning – NADIE Paper No 1. Hobart, Tasmania: National Association for Drama in Education. Pattanaik, S. (2000). Messengers on bicycles. In J. O’Toole & M. Lepp (Eds.), Drama for life (pp. 85–92). Brisbane: Playlab Press. Prentki, T. (2003). Save the children – Save the world. Research in Drama Education, 8(1), 39–54. Prior, R. W. (2004). Characterising actor trainers’ understanding of their practice in Australian and English drama schools. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia. Queensland Studies Authority (2002). Years 1–10 Syllabus: The Arts. Retrieved December 2, 2004 from http://www.qsa.qld.edu.au/yrs1to10/kla/arts/index.html Raphael, J. (2004). Equal to life: Empowerment through drama and research in a drama group for people with disabilities. NJ (Drama Australia Journal), 28(1), 73–86. Roper, W., & Davis, D. (1993). Taking the right eye out completely. Drama Broadsheet. NATD, UK, 10(3), 36–49. Rousseau, J.-J. (1762/1956). Emile. London: Heinemann. Saldaña, J., & Wright, L. (1996). An overview of experimental research principles for studies in theatre for youth. In P. Taylor (Ed.), Researching drama and arts education: Paradigms and possibilities (pp. 115–131). London: Falmer. Sallis, R. (2004). Con and Charlie do the splits: Multiple masculinities and drama pedagogy. NJ (Drama Australia Journal), 28(1), 105–115. Scheurer, P. (1995). “A thousand Joans”: A teacher case study. Drama in education, a process of discovery. Dissertation Abstracts International, 57(07), 2869 (UMI No. 963942). Schutzman, M., & Cohen-Cruz, J. (1994). Playing Boal: Theatre, therapy, activism. London: Routledge. Siks, G., & Dunnington, H. (Eds.). (1961). Children’s theatre and creative dramatics. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Siks, G. B. (1983). Drama with children. New York: Harper & Row. Slade, P. (1954). Child drama. London: Cassell. Spolin, V. (1983). Improvisation for the theatre. Evanston: Northwestern University Press. Stake, R. E. (1998). Some comments on assessment in U.S. education. Educational Policy Analysis Archives, 6(14). Retrieved October 15, 2005 from http://epaa.asu.edu/epaa/v6n14.html Taylor, P. (1998). Redcoats and patriots: Reflective practice in drama and social studies. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Thomson, J. (2005). Post-Dartmouth developments in English teaching in Australia. In W. Sawyer & E. Gold (Eds.), Reviewing English in the 21st century (pp.10–22). Melbourne: Phoenix. van Ments, M. (1983). The effective use of role-play. London: Kogan Page. Vincent, A. (2005). Simulation homepage. Macquarie University Centre for Middle East and North African Studies. Retrieved December 31, 2005 from http://www.mq.edu.au/mec/sim/index.html Vygotsky, L. (1933/1976). Play and its role in the mental development of the child. In J. Bruner, A. Jolly, & K. Silva (Eds.), Play: Its role in development and evolution. (pp. 537–554). London: Penguin.

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Wagner, B.-J. (1976). Dorothy Heathcote: Drama as a learning medium. Washington, DC: National Education Association. Wagner, B.-J. (Ed.). (1998). Educational drama and language arts: What research shows. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Wagner, B.-J. (Ed.). (1999). Building moral communities through educational drama. Stanford, CT: Ablex. Ward, W. (1930) Creative dramatics, for the upper grades and junior high school. New York: Appleton. Ward, W. (1947). Playmaking with children: From kindergarten to high school. New York: AppletonCentury Crofts. Warner, C. (1995). Exploring the process of engagement: An examination of the nature of the engagement in drama when used as a methodology to augment literature in a middle school language arts classroom. Dissertation Abstracts International, 56(06), 2047 (UMI No. 9534088). Warren, K. (1993). Empowering children through drama. In W. Schiller (Ed.), Issues in expressive arts: Curriculum for early childhood (pp. 69–79). London: Gordon and Breach. Way, B. (1967). Development through drama. London: Longmans. Wilhelm, J. D. (2002). Action strategies for deepening comprehension: Using drama strategies to assist improved reading performance. New York: Scholastic. Wilhelm, J., & Edmiston, B. (1998). Imagining to learn: Inquiry, ethics and integration through drama. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Winston, J. (1997). Drama, narrative and moral education. London: Falmer. Winston, J. (2000). Drama, literacy and moral education 5–11. London: David Fulton.

14 NARRATIVE AS ARTFUL CURRICULUM MAKING Lynn Butler-Kisber*, Yi Li†, D. Jean Clandinin†, and Pamela Markus* *

McGill University, Canada; University of Alberta, Canada

†

In this chapter we conceptualize narrative in the curriculum making of arts education as we inquire into our own narratives of experience, review relevant literature on narrative broadly understood and on narrative in the visual arts, music and drama education, and claim spaces for narrative in arts education.1 We define narrative as a genre of literature, a way to think about writing, and a way to think about experience. Narrative, in this third view, is a helpful way to conceptualize the experiences of teachers and children within the mandated, planned, and experienced curriculum. Yi Li, as an English language teacher and researcher, Jean, as a curriculum theorist and narrative inquirer, and Lynn as a language arts educator and arts-informed researcher, each brought diverse perspectives to this chapter. All are involved in narrative work but not in arts education.2

Beginning the Inquiry In spite of the current recognition of the need for a cultural context approach to arts education that includes building on oral cultures and children’s/learners’ personal stories (UNESCO, 2003), discussions about the arts curriculum still focus to a large degree on the visual and performance arts and do not include what might be called “the art of literacy” even though narrative is acknowledged as how we make meaning and understand experience (Bruner, 1986).

Situating Ourselves within the Legacies of Broudy and Dewey Choi and Bresler (2000–2001) show how Dewey and Broudy’s interests in aesthetic education profoundly influenced arts education and curriculum from quite different positions (p. 22). 219 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 219–234. © 2007 Springer.

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Broudy, a modernist, believed that aesthetic experience is derived from exposure to exemplary works of art. He argued for an art curriculum consisting of the study and mastery of a “canon of exemplars” and believed the teacher was the transmitter of this knowledge, and the learners were the recipients (Choi & Bresler, 2000–2001, p. 28). Dewey’s (1934, 1938) work was grounded in pragmatism, or the theory of experience. He believed that art is connected to everyday life and is a way meaning can be explored and reconceptualized. An aesthetic experience is derived from the process involved in this kind of activity and the pleasure and new understandings it produces. The meaning making occurs from a fusion of past and current experiences. Hence the form/medium can mediate the kind of understanding that occurs. Dewey’s work reflected a postmodern view (Choi & Bresler, 2000–2001) that positioned the learner as central in the learning process, and the teacher as a facilitator in a relationship with the learner, and as the one who provides scaffolding (Wood, Bruner, & Ross, 1976) that transforms understanding. Conceptually Broudy’s ideas helped shape the discipline-based ideas of arts education while Dewey’s shaped a more experiential view. The notions of narrative as genre of literature, as writing form and as experience could be seen as fitting within both views of arts education. However, these ideas do not help us understand why narrative is not usually seen as part of arts education, nor does it help us to bring together the diverse conceptions of narrative. So we turned methodologically toward inquiring into our own experiences.

Beginning Narratively Inquiring into Yi Li’s Experiences My schooling experiences in Shanghai, China in the 1970s and 1980s were full of great writers of past ages that every child in China studied. Across the country at each grade level each student had the same textbook. Our responsibility as students was to listen to lectures about how we should understand those classic texts, take notes in class, do our homework, and get good grades in tests. Our topics for writing were always assigned and usually unrelated to our personal experiences. Looking back, I wonder why we were not telling and writing our own stories and studying each other’s stories. In Grade 7, I began to record my stories of experience in my diary. Narrative as writing was a personal undertaking, something that occurred outside of school. Later as an English major, I read assigned exemplars of British and American literature, but they were so boring that I read and responded in my diary to other narratives outside the mandated curriculum. In this way, narrative as genre and narrative as writing shaped my narratives of experience. As a beginning university English teacher in 1989, I wanted my students to engage with the English language in a meaningful way. But I had to use the prescribed textbooks because my students were tested. The discrepancy between my belief of what language teaching should be and the teaching situation I found myself in finally led me to graduate school, where I began to read and think about my practices in more theoretical ways. I was particularly drawn to narrative ways of thinking about and understanding experiences, and my definition of narrative as a genre of literature and as a form of writing also broadened in the process.

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Inquiring into Jean’s Experiences As I think about my early years of schooling in rural Alberta, I recollect my Grade 3 school year during which I learned a subject called Enterprize. I loved it because it was the study of my community and me. We engaged in mini research projects, gathering data on our community, interviewing community members, making maps and writing accounts of what we found. My child’s eye view and voice and those of my classmates were valued and made the starting point for each lesson and unit. I now see the way my teacher co-composed the Enterprize curriculum was experiential and valued learners’ voices. Enterprize only happened that one year. The rest of my schooling followed the more traditional pattern. I had a lived moment of what I imagine Dewey described. Narrative was not a genre of reading material, but a way to write and think about curriculum. When I began to teach, each afternoon I read chapter books the children helped select, set up miniinquiry projects on child-selected topics, worked with them to create data and cocreated with them, what I now see as arts-based forms of representation of their interpretations. We wrote our stories on language experience charts and in writing booklets, and we shared our writing. When I began to read curriculum theories and to attend in more theoretical ways to my practices, I was drawn back to Dewey’s ideas of experience and education, to Bruner’s (1987) ideas of narrative knowledge and to Johnson’s (1989) ideas of embodied knowledge. However, these experiences, as child learner, as teacher, as doctoral student, were not connected to arts education.

Inquiring into Lynn’s Experience As I think about my early school days, my memories are not about active, inquiry-oriented experiences, but rather are sprinkled with pictures of the “sharp corners” of schools that Eisner (1991) speaks about, a metaphor for transmission learning. The highlights are schoolyard and sport experiences, and the after hours spent with friends and filled with books, storytelling, performances, “science fairs,” and other kinds of creative play. Dewey was alive and well in neighborhood yards, but far away from rows of desks, silent classrooms, and strident teachers. Later when I was introduced to Paley’s kindergarten (1990) humming with helicopters, double-headed dragons, and supermoms, my memory was of me sitting distraught on a small chair in the corner of my kindergarten, punished after dropping a robin’s egg that I had so gingerly and excitedly carried to school. As a teacher, I translated distant neighborhood memories into classroom projects that enticed children to stay long after the final bell, and to write stories and plays, create poetry and films, and read. Long after the relevant resources were packed away, the children retained the original excitement for the work, and the knowledge acquired in the “doing.” I carried my mostly intuitive, Deweyan learnings with me to the University. I experimented with ways of involving adult learners in language learning through inquiry, exhibitions, and performances, hoping to inspire prospective teachers to explore inquiry in their own classrooms. As I mapped theory onto my experiences and learning, I came to realize that narrative is at the heart of literacy.

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Searching for Threads of the Legacy of Broudy and Dewey As we inquired into our stories of experiences, we realized that Dewey’s legacy lived at the edges of Lynn and Jean’s experiences while Broudy’s seemed nonexistent. Lost in the technical, Lynn reveals that narrative as genre, writing and performance only occurred outside of school. For Jean, narrative as writing and as a form of inquiry only happened in her storied moments of Grade 3. In Yi Li’s experiences Broudy’s legacy seems more evident. The idea that a curriculum of arts education was a canon of exemplars that merited study seemed congruent with the canon of narrative exemplars that Yi Li was required to read in school. For her, too, Dewey’s legacy lived outside of school as she chose narratives to read, and chose to write narratives of her experiences in her diary. In each of our stories, we see how narrative was conceptualized in three distinctively different ways: narrative as genre, narrative as writing stories and narrative as experience. In Yi Li’s recollected stories, we see narrative as the reading of great literature in order to learn Chinese and English languages and to study great ideas. We also see narrative as writing stories, although the stories written in school had little personal relevance. Through writing diaries outside the curriculum, she learned to live in imagined places and times and to reflect on her life. Jean’s experience with Enterprize provides a sense that narrative was more about children writing their own stories than about reading narratives in basal readers. In Lynn’s story, we see narrative as the basal readers’ children read to learn language. Later, when Lynn taught, we see narrative as the stories children told and wrote about what they were learning through classroom projects. We also see narrative as creating meaningful learning experiences for students where they took active roles through inquiry, exhibitions, and performances. Curriculum became a co-composition. Situated within the Deweyan philosophy, we believe that arts education is art as experience. We see narrative not only as genre, but also as the stories we tell and write, as a way of looking more holistically at the experiences we compose. However, while we see narrative in our school experiences, there was no explicit connection to arts education. As we try to claim spaces for narrative in arts education, we draw on complex understandings of narrative to re-imagine arts education.

Three Views of Narrative Narrative as Genre Narrative is a piece of writing that tells a story. It has a beginning, middle, and end. Narrative is the most common genre in literature; it has been used traditionally in literacy education in the school curriculum to teach students how to read and write. Before the 1970s, students in secondary schools were assigned to read the “canon of narrative exemplars” in order to be exposed to the “great works” of the past. Reading at that time meant “understanding the author’s intended meaning and appreciating the

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artistic nature of the works” (Hammett & Barrell, 2000, p. xvi). Teachers would interpret what students were reading, drawing on curriculum guides and the interpretive works by great critics (Hammett & Barrell, 2000). Meaning was thought to reside in the author and the text, “out there” to be discovered and measured objectively (Straw, 1990). Students were taught reading comprehension skills in order to help them decode the messages in the texts they were reading. Those skills were taught sequentially with an emphasis on the acquisition of grammar and phonics. To ensure the students learned the skills, they were tested. Narrative as genre was seen as the subject matter to be taught and mastered. With Rosenblatt’s groundbreaking work (Rosenblatt, 1938), English teaching gradually shifted “from exposing students to the meaning of great works to developing the students’ own experiences with, and responses to, literature” (Willinsky, 2000, p. 6). Since the 1970s reading has been seen as a social, linguistic, and cognitive process where the reader constructs the meaning of the text (Binkley, Phillips, & Norris, 1994; Rosenblatt, 1985). Rosenblatt’s view of narrative as genre started to bring the means and the end together. Narrative was not only the means to the end, but also the moment by moment, ongoing co-construction of meaning for each reader. Consequently, students were provided with opportunities to use reading and writing to learn. Teachers helped them develop questions to find ways to get their own answers. Teachers provided time for students to work together and learn from each other. They encouraged multiple interpretations and celebrated diversity because they wanted their students “to understand the relationships and insights that can be gained by looking at the world through the lens of different cultures” (Pearson & Stephens, 1994, p. 37). This shifted the focus of the language arts “to make reading and writing more personally meaningful and to make the processes of the formation of literacy more powerful,” which John Willinsky (1990) called the “new literacy”. The New Literacy’s work on narrative as genre started to bring more students’ lives into the curriculum. It is much closer to the notion of curriculum that we argue for later in this chapter. However, in this literature, narrative as genre is situated in the language arts or literary arts but not in arts education.

Narrative as Writing In 1935, the National Council of Teachers of English espoused an “experience curriculum in English.” Recognizing Dewey’s work, it created a direction that English/language arts teaching and learning would follow in decades to come. The 1960s were filled with examples of change. Sylvia Ashton-Warner (1963) was using “organic teaching” with young Maori students by using their experiences to build a vocabulary to “write autobiographically” and learn from each other. Chomsky (1965) revealed the universal and natural propensity children have for developing language. Sociolinguists (Cazden, 1988), influenced by the work of Halliday (1973), Vygotsky (1978), and Bruner (1986), demonstrated how pre-school children actively construct meaning and develop language in social contexts, suggesting a more experiential approach to language learning that builds on early development. Simultaneously, Moffett (1968) suggested that because “English” is a communication system and not a

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body of content, it should be taught in an interdisciplinary and integrated way. This shift to a more experiential and integrated language arts (listening, speaking, reading, and writing, and later viewing and representing) curriculum resonates with Dewey’s notions rather than the disciplinary and mastery-oriented study suggested by Broudy. It valued the capabilities and differences among learners and built on their experiences and contexts. Although retrospectively criticized for lacking a critical edge needed to challenge issues of power and inequity (Peritz, 1994), it was fertile ground for changing the writing curriculum. In 1966, scholars from England and the United States met at the Dartmouth Conference to help shift the study of English away from analyzing great works of literature to a focus on the uses of language. The result was a change from an emphasis on product to one of process. In North America it became known as the “writing process” approach (Elbow, 1973; Emig, 1971, 1977; Murray, 1968) and in England and Australia as the “language across the curriculum” approach (Britton, 1975; Dixon, 1968; Martin, 1975). This approach embraced the experiences of diverse learners and focused on how to develop their expressive abilities. As well, there was a growing understanding that storying is a fundamental way humans come to understand, structure and express their conceptions about the world (Bruner, 1986). Narratives became central to how the writing curriculum was enacted (Britton, 1975). In the last two decades additional shifts occurred. Educators recognized the importance of the social interactions in learning to write, the need to scaffold the process with timely interventions (Calkins, 1983; Atwell, 1988) and the need to embrace a reflective (The New London Group, 1996) and a sociohistorical sense of experiences to become critics of what we, and others, write (Heath, 1983). The development of powerful and political communication writing abilities and other literacies (Willinsky, 1990) was seen as capable of addressing inequities and promoting change (hooks, 1994). Process writing remains challenged, however, by the time accorded to essay writing and the amount of curriculum fragmentation. Process writing also failed to address two important issues. The first is the artificial demarcation that remains, the separation between instructional means and curricular ends, instead of what could be a more seamless, but not necessarily smooth, negotiation of meaning making or “artful curriculum-making” between teacher and students, and students and students. The second is the relatively sparse attention given to multiple intelligences and the way individuals learn and communicate best (Butler-Kisber, 1997; Gardner, 1983, 1999). The “new literacies” of the last decade have begun to address these, but writing remains the most emphasized way of communicating, even though there are other ways of representing and understanding the world (Eisner, 1991). However, in these latter views the focus is still on the language arts and rarely directed to arts education.

Narrative as Experience The conceptions of situation and of interaction are inseparable from each other. An experience is always what it is because of a transaction taking place between an individual and what, at the time, constitutes his environment … The two principles of continuity and interaction are not separate from each other. They intercept

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and unite … Different situations succeed one another. But because of the principle of continuity something is carried over from the earlier ones to the later ones. (Dewey, 1938, p. 43) Dewey’s words opened the possibility that experience could be conceived of narratively, that is, as narrative construction. Theorists in education (Connelly & Clandinin, 1985), philosophy (Carr, 1986), psychology (Bruner, 1986), theology (Crites, 1971), and anthropology (Cruikshank, 1990; Bateson, 1994) turned to understanding experience narratively. Thinking narratively about experience is a view of life as a story we live. These storied lives, these storied experiences, have multiple plotlines, shaped by personal plotlines which are shaped by social, cultural, linguistic, and institutional narratives (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000). Elbaz (2005) further developed a narrative view of experience. For her, “textuality can be seen as an important feature of experience rather than something set against it” (p. 37). Elbaz drew on Widdershoven (1993), who wrote that experience is “not just there to be uncovered. It is shaped and structured in a process of articulation. A story about life presents us life as it is lived; and as such life is the foundation of the story” (p. 6). Elbaz argued for a more theoretically complex notion of experience as narrative construction, taking into consideration Stone-Mediatore’s (2003) essential feature of experience – tension, multiplicity and conflict – and Denzin’s notion of “experience as multi-sensual and draws on multiple perspectives” (Elbaz, 2005, p. 38). Thinking of experience as narrative construction led to conceptualizations such as narrative modes of thought (Bruner, 1987), narrative approaches to teaching (Lyons and LaBoskey, 2002), narrative research methodologies (Connelly & Clandinin, 1990; Polkinghorne, 1988) and narrative therapies (White & Epston, 1990). These narrative views of experience also began to shape views of curriculum (Connelly & Clandinin, 1988). In what follows we turn directly to the visual arts, music education, and drama education curricula to explore how narrative is taken up in arts education.

The Emerging Role of Narrative in the Visual Arts Curriculum Early twentieth-century art education was relegated to the teaching of drawing (Efland, 2004), followed by the shift to teaching art using elements of design (Dow, 1913). This mirrored the universal laws of science, and gave art a better chance of surviving in schools. Art curriculum changed again in the 1920s to an emphasis on creative self-expression due to Freud’s notions about the negative repercussions of repression, and to an increasing demand for democratic ideals in public schooling. A shift to the use of art in daily life followed in the 1930s in response to the Great Depression. The turn to Discipline-Based Art Education (DBAE) in the United States (Hetland & Winner, 2004) in the 1960s was an attempt to align art with the other curricular disciplines and emulate the sciences, thereby making it more structured and rigorous (Efland, 2004, pp. 694–696). It integrated art making, art history, art criticism, and aesthetics to make art more than just studio art. DBAE

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permeated classrooms across North America until the 1990s. It reflected the work of Broudy because of the emphasis on formalism and the study of the great art and artists. DBAE emphasized aesthetics as a way of knowing through the senses (Madeja & Onuska, 1977, p. 3), a type of aesthetic literacy (Smith, 2004). But art continued to remain a very separate part of the overall curriculum. Even now many art teachers continue to focus on studio practice via demonstrations and lectures rather than using more narrative and constructivist ways of teaching and learning (Burton, 2004, p. 561). In the 1990s new discussions in visual arts education developed. Feminist and postmodern researchers highlighted the need to examine personal and everyday realities to bring diverse and marginalized voices to the center of education. They argued convincingly that there are multiple realities and ways of knowing and doing. Gardner’s work on multiple intelligences (1983, 1999) helped support these ideas. Through the Arts PROPEL program he was able to initiate the use of rich learning environments and projects in schools to explore different forms of artistic knowing and understanding (Burton, 2004, p. 567). Eisner’s work (1991, 2002) helped to show that artistic creation is found not only in the arts, and experience with different kinds of form and representation can mediate understanding in interesting and diverse ways. His work has opened up valuable dialogue between art and non-art educators, as well as artists and educational researchers (Butler-Kisber, 2002). Efland (2000) has argued that meaning is built on narrative and elaborated through metaphor, and that metaphoric creation, thinking, and reflection are all well suited to the arts. These examples of work and thought, coupled with the recent technological advances and the increasing emphasis on visual culture in daily life, have created a centrality for the visual arts curriculum that it has never enjoyed before. It has pushed some theorists to advocate that the formalist arts curriculum be abandoned, and in addition to the other forms of visual art, “art education should actively embrace the critical study of popular culture” (Barrett, 2004, p. 746) to bridge the gap existing between the art world and everyday life. This social re-constructionist (Siegesmund, 1998) or issues-based approach (Gaudelius & Speirs, 2000) is positioned to situate narrative at the heart of visual arts education because it is so central to the worlds of students and social transformation. Hafeli (2002) has shown this in her qualitative study of how adolescents addressed “cultural and aesthetic themes that borrow, build on and ultimately reinvent conventional narratives and art forms” (p. 28), and as a result, created new understandings for both the teacher and students. Atkinson and Dash (2005) have explored promising instances of different forms of innovative teaching and learning in studio, museum, gallery, community, and teacher education where the practical and the critical are in a dialectical relationship and the students, their ideas and experiences, are at the center of a negotiated pedagogy. These kinds of qualitative studies are extremely useful because they are accessible, contextualized, and show and persuade rather than just tell; however, they are rare (Burton, 2004). We believe if these hopeful trends in visual arts education are to develop and grow, more work of this kind is needed to counteract the standards-based movement that continues to gather momentum in North America and beyond.

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The Emerging Role of Narrative in Music Education Stake, Bresler and Mabry (1991) frame the content of elementary school arts education when they write In American elementary schools, teaching of the arts is largely teaching of custom. In teaching art and music and occasionally, drama or dance, we teach the customs of the culture, honoring the stories of childhood … Children are coached in decorating and performing, joining in the traditions of holiday and celebration. The teacher of the arts is a preparer of shows. (p. 301) Music education remains “isolated from much in the arts world,” although “it [music education] is the closest the arts share in general education. It enjoys a greater place in general education than the other arts” (p. 337). There is no mention of narrative in their summary. Thirteen years later, McCarthy (2004) turns to narrative when she suggests a new mode of inquiry in the content area of music, an area “still awaiting full curricular status in school culture” (p. 35). There is need for “a critique of philosophic underpinnings and research traditions of music education as a basis for advocating change” (p. 35). Adopting four vantage points on the field of music education, “advocacy for music in education, research traditions, philosophy of music, and the culture of music in education” (p. 35), she argues for “fresh lenses to look at music in classrooms, and a language that is focused on describing encounters with the arts” (p. 35) as well as alternative research paradigms; a philosophy of music grounded in “the meaning of music in the lives of individuals and communities, locally and globally” (p. 35); and a re-conceptualized presence of music in the school. From each of these vantage points she comes to narrative as a way forward. Drawing on Barone (2002) she asks, “how the narrative of music is performed in the classroom, and how that narrative intersects with narratives in other areas of the curriculum?” (p. 36) Referring to authors outside of music education such as Bateson (1994), Olson (1997), Bruner (1986), and Barone (2000, 2001), McCarthy engages in reimagining the landscape of music education. Elliott (1995) and Small (1998) show that “participation in music is the performance of one’s life story” (McCarthy, 2004, p. 38). In her re-conceptualization, we “recognize the kinds of stories that are constructed in music classrooms and … provide a language that is true to describing the narratives of music” (p. 38). McCarthy notes a “central disjunction of music education, that is, the sharp separation in theory and practice between the narratives of music and the narratives of pedagogy, between the art of music and the science of pedagogy” (p. 41). The way to reshape the separation is narrative and attending to “the inter-textual nature of story … how stories of music and stories of pedagogy can be told together, bringing them into one locus of understanding” (p. 41). This is a recent call with little time to do the work of shifting classroom practice and the research paradigm in music education to more narrative undertakings.

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The Emerging Role of Narrative in Drama Education “Drama tells stories. In its creation, there is a process of storying; engaging in drama, we engage in an exploration and inquiry into people’s storied lives” (Linds, 1999, p. 276). In schools, drama is seen both as art form and curriculum subject. As an art form, it offers teachers another medium to help students engage in the reading of narrative texts (Hertzberg, 2001). After reading an excerpt from the novel Onion Tears (Kidd, 1989, p. 9), Hertzberg’s research participants, ten and eleven year-old Australian students working in groups of four, were asked to make a still image to communicate their interpretation of an excerpt. This process of enactment enabled the students to see things from different perspectives, to experience someone else’s reality and to develop empathy for the motivations and/or reasons for their character’s actions. Drama is also used as a planning activity for narrative writing. Moore and Caldwell (1990) compared the effects of drama and discussion as planning activities for narrative writing in the second and third grades. Their findings indicated that the writing quality of the group that used drama activities was significantly higher than those in the discussion group. In secondary schools, drama is also a curriculum subject. However, “prescribed secondary drama curricula often direct teachers to give students experience in ‘making’ and ‘performing’ within the art form” (Hatton, 2003, p. 140). The students’ views, voices and experiences are seldom positioned centrally in drama classrooms. Recently, drama educators have attended to the lived experiences of their students. For example, Hatton (2003) explored adolescent girls doing drama based on their personal narratives. Conrad (2005) did a popular theater project with high school drama students in rural Alberta drawing on “stories they told about issues they identified as relevant to their lives” (p. 30). In teacher education programs, several professors have already started to encourage drama education students to do personal storytelling through the use and development of student written case narratives (McCammon, Miller, & Norris, 1998; Norris, McCammon, & Miller, 2000; O’Farrell, 2000). However, narrative as experience in drama education still has a long way to go.

Narrative in the Curriculum of Arts Education/Narrative Curricula in Arts Education Our two-part title suggests a helpful distinction in understanding narrative, curriculum and arts education. The first part suggests narrative as subject matter in arts education. Narrative as genre of literature, or narrative as writing process, could become a topic in a curriculum of arts education. These topics could be taught from a discipline-based view of arts education or an experientially based view of arts education. The second part suggests attention to experience as narrative construction. Conle (2003), drawing on Connelly and Clandinin (1988), Carter (1993), and Barone (1992) wrote, The use of story has been recommended for primary and intermediate education, in the field of art education, as well as for moral and environmental education …

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there has been no comprehensive delineation of its various components, no differentiation in the educational functions of these components, and no extensive proposals on how one might see the connection between narrative and curricular learning outside the traditional use of narrative in literary education. (p. 3) Conle (2003) noted, “The crux of the matter has to do with definitions of narrative and with functions of narrative that are different in different curricular situations” (p. 6). In her view, “Narrative curricula highlight the importance of the moment – the experience of the moment and what happens in encounters with people and things, moment by moment … the experience of the moment eventually becomes what we understand by experience when we speak of gaining experience or being experienced” (p. 13). Both title parts, narrative in the curriculum of arts education, “the traditional use of narrative in literary education” (Conle, 2003, p. 3) and narrative curricula in arts education offer possibilities for bringing narrative to arts education. We suggest a third possibility, that is, that narrative in all its complexity is an artful curriculum making, that creates spaces for arts education. Choi and Bresler (2000–2001) state that “[in] the operational curriculum, educational values of art can be interpreted in multiple ways, for example, as stimuli to thinking, as aesthetic image, as generating narratives and personal constructions, as historical heritages … “ (p. 34) They see possibility for integrating Dewey’s and Broudy’s positions in the lived curriculum of schools. It is in the lived curriculum of arts education that we see a place for narrative in artful curriculum making.

Narrative as Artful Curriculum Making Conceptualizing narrative as central to artful curriculum making requires a view of curriculum making (Clandinin & Connelly, 1992) with a central place for the teacher: Teachers and students live out a curriculum; teachers do not transmit, implement, or teach a curriculum and objectives; nor are they and their students carried forward in their work and studies by a curriculum of textbooks and content, instructional methodologies, and intentions. An account of teachers’ and students’ lives over time is the curriculum … (p. 365) Clandinin and Connelly show how curriculum and instruction became separated through a distinction between means and ends with instruction as means to curricular end. They note an “ … implicit linking of the idea of curriculum to subject matter instead of classroom practice embedded in the means-end distinction that has characterized, and often plagued, the field since” (p. 365). These points highlight that narrative as instruction of a genre of literature, or narrative as instruction around storytelling or story writing, continue to distinguish instructional means from curricular ends. Seen as subject matter, both views of narrative reinforce the means-end distinction. Seeing curriculum as an account of teachers’ and students’ life narratives over time offers a possibility for narrative in artful curriculum making.

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Calling on Dewey (1938), Jackson (1968), Schwab (1983), and Eisner (1991), Clandinin and Connelly develop “a view in which the teacher is seen as an integral part of the curricular process and in which teacher, learners, subject matter, and milieu are in dynamic interaction” (p. 392). Curriculum making becomes, in this view, the ongoing negotiation of storied lives, the lives of teachers and students. Greene (1993), believing that “encounters with the arts can awaken us to alternative possibilities of existing, of being human, of relating to others, of being other, [argues] for their centrality in curriculum” (p. 214). While Greene’s encounters with the arts include encounters with narrative as genre of literature and narrative as storytelling and story writing, her view of curriculum also calls forward narrative as the composing and living out of artful curriculum making, which requires a curriculum transformation (p. 215). A view of curriculum as an account of teachers’ and students’ lives over time opens the possibility of artful curriculum making that allows for such imaginative transformations, and, thus, creates new possibilities for arts education as infusing the curriculum experienced by students and teachers.

Notes 1. We wrote our chapter using a more narrative form of representation for two reasons. One, a substantive reason, was to illuminate the problematic separation of narrative from arts education in schools by inquiring into our own school narratives of experience that spanned 40 years and two countries. The second reason was to take up the challenge of Ellis and Bochner (2003) in their chapter in the Second Handbook of Qualitative Research Methods to expand the genre of handbook chapters to include more narrative forms. 2. As we delved into this work, we invited a visual artist/art educator to respond to our writing and suggest avenues of exploration. Pamela Markus, an arts instructor at McGill as well as a Ph.D. candidate there, is a student of Lynn’s. She joined us as this respondent.

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INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 14.1 The Literature Curriculum in Israel: Dilemmas and Narratives Bracha Alpert Beit Berl College, Israel

Three main approaches appear to be present in the Israeli literature curriculum: literature studies as a tool for conveying the national and cultural heritage, literature studies for developing interpretive skills, and emphasis on students’ needs and interests with an experiential tendency (Feingold, 1999; Orbach, 2002; Poyas, 1999). These approaches reflect educational conceptions and ideologies such as described by Butler-Kisber, Li, Clandinin, and Markus in their paper, and by many curriculum theorists and educational researchers (e.g., Eisner, 1992; Pinar, Reynolds, Slattery, & Taubman, 2002). I have experienced different expressions of these approaches not only as a student growing up in Israel, but also as a researcher examining the teaching of literature in classrooms (Alpert, 1987, 1991). During the early days of the state there was a tendency to promote hegemonic national goals that were reflected in literary works representing the national ethos and ideology. During the 1970s and the 1980s the structure of knowledge has become a central approach reflected in the curriculum of secondary schools (Hofman, Alpert, & Schnell, in press; Orbach, 2002). The purpose of studying literature, according to this approach, includes acquaintance with high quality literary works and literary genres and forms, as well as development of skills for appreciation of literature. New literature curricula were developed in the 1990s for all levels of education; they advocate an experiential approach that puts emphasis on students’ enjoyment and interest, on understanding themselves and others (Language education, 2003; The Literature curriculum for the junior-high school, 1992), and on self directed learning of literary works (Literature for the General High-School, 2000). In the junior-high school curriculum, for example, the major goal is to create a “deeply felt experience,” to be achieved by extensive reading for pleasure from various genres and styles. This curriculum also presents the possibility of “light” reading of literary works of suspense, humor, science- fiction, and similar forms, possibly more suitable for young readers. Canonical “great works” should be taught by means of interdisciplinary connections to the arts, including painting, music, film, and others. This curriculum also emphasizes 235 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 235–238. © 2007 Springer.

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development of social and cultural values through literature (Hofman, Alpert, & Schnell, in press; Orbach, 2002). According to Poyas (1999), both enhancing cultural heritage and developing literary interpretive skills should be promoted. Orbach (2002) claims that using principles taken from the structure of the discipline, as reflected in various curriculum materials that were developed in recent years in Israel (student workbooks, teacher guides, etc.), is not contradictory to the aim that youngsters will enjoy both aesthetic and cultural experiences through the study of literature. How should the teaching of literature reflect the discourse of a society that comprises diverse cultural and national groups, presenting a multiplicity of agendas, ideals and values? This is the second dilemma that the teaching of literature in Israel is facing. The Israeli Jewish population is composed of people whose origins are in Europe and the United States, and people whose origins are in Islamic countries. The Jewish population has absorbed immigrants in the past decade from the former USSR and from Ethiopia. About a fifth of Israel’s citizens are Arabs. The Israeli educational system is also divided among secular and religious sectors. How should the various cultural narratives be represented in the curriculum? The literature curriculum was originally oriented towards Western literature and Hebrew literature (both Jewish and Israeli). Over the years, several new literary texts have been introduced into literature studies in order to represent various cultural groups, such as writers and poets of Islamic origins. This reflected a certain degree of social change and awareness of the needs of social groups to achieve some kind of expression of their specific culture. While a few Arab poets and writers are included in the literary works taught in schools, attempts to include in the curriculum for the Jewish sector contemporary Palestinian literary figures, those who present a strong political ideology, met with fierce resistance (Hofman, Alpert, & Schnell, in press). Finally, it is interesting to point out that, based on examining various sources for the teaching of literature in Israel, there is a wide selection of referrals to representations of literary works in theater, in painting, and in film. A large variety of articles, academic (Elkad-Lehman, 2004) as well as popular didactic (e.g., the bulletin for teachers of literature), offer teachers creative ideas of how to best approach the world of literature through teaching and learning.

References Alpert, B. (1987). Active, silent and controlled discussions: Explaining variations in classroom conversation. Teaching and Teacher Education, 3(1), 29–40. Alpert, B. (1991). Students’ resistance in the classroom. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 22(4), 350–366. Eisner, E.W. (1992). Curriculum ideologies. In P. W. Jackson (Ed.), Handbook of research on curriculum (pp. 202–326). New York: Macmillan. Elkad-Lehman, I. (2004). To be a woman, to be an artist: Intertext and children’s literature. Dapim 37, 145–181. (Hebrew) Feingold, B. (1999). The teaching of literature – is it going toward “extinction”? Dapim 29, 152–159. (Hebrew)

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Hofman, A., Alpert, B., & Schnell, I. (in press). Education and social change: The case of Israel’s state curriculum. Curriculum Inquiry. Language Education, Hebrew – language, Literature and Culture for the State and State-Religious Elementary School (2003). Jerusalem. The Ministry of Education. (Hebrew) Literature for the General High-School (2000). Jerusalem. The Ministry of Education. (Hebrew) Orbach, L. (2002). The structure of knowledge of literature and its Curriculum for Junior High School. In A. Hofman & I. Schnell (Eds.), Values and goals in Israeli school curricula (pp. 265–300). Even Yehuda: Reches. (Hebrew) Pinar, W. F., Reynolds, W. M., Slattery, P., & Taubman, P. M. (2002). Understanding curriculum. New York: Peter Lang. (Hebrew) Poyas, Y. (1999). Teaching literature: Choosing between cultural heritage and multi-cultural discourse. Dapim, 29, 28–43. (Hebrew) The Literature Curriculum for the Junior-High School (1992). Jerusalem. The Ministry of Education.(Hebrew)

INTERLUDE 15 IMAGINING MS. EDDY ALIVE; OR, THE RETURN OF THE ARTS TEACHER AND HER PERSONALIZED CURRICULUM Tom Barone Arizona State University, U.S.A.

In medieval times, an interlude often meant a light-hearted moment between the main acts of a serious play. But I find myself using this brief space to reflect on weighty matters, on large, enduring issues surrounding the role of the teacher in the co-creation of the arts curriculum, and the place of the school arts curriculum in the lives of students. The issues arise out of memories of contrasting incidents involving two of my own elementary school teachers, neither an arts specialist. In the beginning there was Light and she was named Ms. Eddy. Ms. Eddy was my only teacher for second and third grades. On one fine day, she and I finally declared as finished a story that had been long in the co-construction. The month was surely October, the story was about Halloween, its protagonist a tragically opaque ghost. With my teacher’s patient assistance, I had arrived at a final version over the course of several drafts. And now I was being privileged mightily, selected to travel down the hall and read the story aloud in the other third grade classrooms. The pride and exhilaration that I felt upon the return to my homeroom, like the smile of Ms. Eddy, survives within me decades later, even as I complete my reconstruction of the very paragraph you have just read. My sixth grade teacher never wore a halo. The events one day in Ms. Rose’s classroom at McDonogh #39 Elementary School might serve to represent the sense of malaise and drudgery that I still associate with that entire school year. On one New Orleans afternoon, near two o’clock on a Friday in the winter of 1956, Ms. Rose distributed to each student a chalk pencil and drawing paper. She then tacked to the border above the blackboard an outlined drawing of a penguin and announced the challenge: a kind of “draw me” contest in which those few students (how many I cannot recall) who most precisely replicated the drawing would receive an A for the exercise. Ms. Rose, withdrawing to her desk to mark some arithmetic papers, called this activity “making art.” But even then (I do believe), I had other names for it. The notion of the teacher as a bridge between the private home of the child and the public domain of the curriculum has, we know, a long and venerable history, dating back, in Western culture, at least to the pedagogues of ancient Greece. Much later it 239 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 239–244. © 2007 Springer.

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would be John Dewey who would most powerfully articulate the indispensable role of the teacher as a chaperone of the rendezvous between student and curriculum. In Experience and Education, Dewey (1938/1963) wrote of educational experiences that provide students with a degree of mastery over their environment and that prepare them for later experiences of a even deeper and more expansive quality. In Art as Experience, Dewey (1934/1958) describes an aesthetic experience as an event that emerges out of, but distinguishes itself from, the inchoate and formless general stream of experience. It is an experience that is, as Dewey put it, “rounded out … because it possesses internal integration and fulfillment reached through reached through ordered and organized movement” (1934/1958, p. 39). Years later, I would recognize the experience of writing with Ms. Eddy as both educational and, because it was so fulfilling, so life-affirming, as deeply aesthetic. But the flip side of education was, for Dewey, miseducation. Miseducational experiences are disempowering: they “have the effect of arresting and distorting the growth of further experience” (1938/1963, p. 25). And the opposite of aesthetic was anaesthetic. The penguin replication resembled the kind of deleterious experience that may (especially if, as in Ms. Rose’s class, oft recurring) cause a student to “associate the learning process [here, within the visual arts] with ennui and boredom” (1938/1963, p. 25). It was hardly the sort of event that was life-affirming; it was, instead, deadening. Yes, after a long stretch of “further experience,” I still find fulfillment in the process of storytelling. But when it comes to drawing and painting, I feel disinterested, disempowered, miseducated. And so I find myself wondering about the degree of responsibility of these two teachers for this state of affairs. What roles, if any, did their curricula and teaching play in my long-term relationships (or lack thereof) with these art forms? How much did Ms. Eddy engender in me a love for stories? Would I have somehow found my way into the field of literary-style narrative research without her? Did Ms. Rose sow the seeds of my enduring disinclination toward engaging in, and lack of talent for, activities related to the visual arts? Or did both of my teachers merely reinforce larger, less visible influences operating from outside their classrooms? Dewey deplored any “tendency to exclude the teacher from a positive and leading share in the direction of the activities of the community of which he [sic] is a member” (1934/1958, p. 58). This leadership included a process of familiarization with the personal capacities and needs of the child and an arrangement of the social and physical environment that would tempt the student outward toward significant, purposeful, educational encounters through which those needs would be met. But another, strikingly different, metaphor of the teacher also serves to maintain her significance in the implementation of the curriculum, even as it withholds from her a professional status. Within the scheme of scientific management, transported a century ago into education by Franklin Bobbitt (1918), the teacher is a functionary responsible for the smooth operation of an educational assembly line. The teacher, asserted Bobbitt, is not meant to be a “philosopher” with the intellectual wherewithal to imagine appropriate curriculum content, but a “mechanic” assigned the narrow task of efficiently imparting a curriculum pre-formulated by supervisors. Indeed, two parallel but conflicting images of the arts teacher in America are rooted deeply in the history of arts education. In the nineteenth century the arts curriculum

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and instruction became deeply associated with industry. This was during an era of robust industrial expansion and development, a time in which the Cole System of art instruction was imported from Great Britain, primarily for the purpose of training students manually in copying master designs. Soon the art curriculum consisted almost entirely of deathly alienating exercises of meticulous reproduction. It was a few decades later that the Progressive Education movement, with, of course, Dewey’s central involvement, finally provided a rationale of the fine arts (including creative writing) as an activity central to the educational process. Dewey and other progressives would provide a justification for, and suggest teaching methods appropriate to, the doing of art in school as a lively process of personal expression, as an activity tied more directly to the purposes of the student. What I recall as the tedious drawing activities of Ms. Rose were perhaps not as off-putting as those endured by victims of the more elaborately scripted Coles-style training of the eye and hand. Art seemed insufficiently important to Ms. Rose even to provide a few basic tips on drawing. Nevertheless, we, her students, were paradoxically united in our cluelessness as, in competitive isolation, we strove mightily to replicate a common prototype. And as for Ms. Eddy, while I appreciate her obvious (to me, if not to her) debt to Dewey, I nowadays question the significance of the aesthetic content of some of the stories I wrote for/with her. Still, the educational opportunities afforded by these two teachers seem to exemplify these two competing curricular/pedagogical/ educational traditions. What else, I wonder, influenced their teaching and our learning of the arts back in that earlier era? What factors internal to the school served to frame their lessons – the organization of the school, the available resources, the expectations of administrators and the students themselves, and so on? Not to the mention forces emanating from outside the walls of McDonogh #39 – external curriculum mandates, parents, facets of the popular culture. I refer to what Schubert (2004) calls the outside curriculum, the forces operating within the larger, external culture that nevertheless manage to find their way inside the schoolhouse to influence the events occurring therein. Of course, to continue with all of these qualifications on the agency of my former teachers is to arrive at a thoroughly postmodern state of affairs. One in which individual spirits have evaporated, vanished – or, more accurately, been banished. One in which, indeed, my own teachers, at least metaphorically speaking, never existed! This is a narrative in which the central symbol of modernity, the subject, the formerly free agent with a capacity to influence specific events, has, in the words of a popular song of the seventies, “caught the last train for the coast.” Especially for post-modernists of the skeptical sort (Rosenau, 1992), the two individuals whom I called Ms. Rose and Ms. Eddy, wafts of their distinctive perfumes still lingering within my olfactory memory, have been re-described as merely “contingent effects of language or political activity in a particular historical context” (Ashley, 1988, p. 94). (If they really are gone, I am glad, at least, that they will never know what rubbed them out.) What this would mean, of course, is that Ms. Eddy and Ms. Rose did not matter. They never had their own curriculum, were never responsible for those classroom experiences, life-giving or otherwise. And so they cannot any longer be my (nor your teachers your) heroine or villain. The heroic arts teacher has enjoyed a long run in modern popular culture (especially, for whatever reason, the music teacher, as protagonists in films

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such as Mr. Holland’s Opus, Music of the Heart, and even The School of Rock), defying and defeating various forces of domination that would serve to miseducate their students. The pop culture villains, to the contrary, have included school people who too easily accepted a debilitating socio-cultural matrix and too readily chose a cultural script written by others. Like Ms. Rose? Among skeptical postmodernists the acceptance of the possibilities of personal pedagogical and curricular heroism opens one to charges of romanticizing the teacher, of wistfulness and nostalgia, and even, in evidencing an infatuation with individual virtue and achievement, of masculinism. And a significant part of me recognizes the dangers that accompany a singular focus on the personal agency and professional qualities of the individual arts teacher. If one arts teacher acting alone – the damning question goes – can prevail against overwhelming odds, why can’t they all? The heroic achievements of those rare teachers can be construed as evidence against a need for the redress of a host of debilitating, anaesthetic cultural conditions. I cannot deny that teachers of art are, by and large, like all earthlings, children of their culture. Their degrees of personal and pedagogical freedom are, admittedly, narrowed within that culture, with any impulse against foreign (“teacher-proof ”) curricular scripts rendered enormously difficult to act upon. We know that arts teachers (specialists or not), occupying marginalized positions in the school community, are much less likely than their colleagues to be held “accountable” for efficiently delivering a standardized, test-driven curriculum. But this hardly means that they are guaranteed the luxury of full professional autonomy. Still, because I am (romantically?) determined to keep people such as Ms. Eddy, and even Ms. Rose, (metaphorically speaking) alive, I find myself aligned with those affirmative postmodernists (Rosenau, 1992) who seek at least the half-return of the subject (Giddens, 1984). This half-return is premised on the realization that, while these teachers may have acted within structural limitations, it was that very structure which made their subjective agency meaningful. Pure structure, like pure form, is, indeed, static and meaningless. A teacher’s way out of that miasma is through awareness of the facets of that structure, careful attention to the nature of the viscous contingencies that constitute the social and physical environment. Through that attentiveness and through the kind of imagination that propels students out of the mire of the present into the possibilities of the future. For Carl Bereiter (1995), a teacher-hero is that rare someone who is able to, through imagination and hope, sustain a purpose or value despite those structural limitations, despite adversity and lack of social support: Heroic transfer undoubtedly does exist. There are people who credit some teachers with having instilled in them a disposition or aspiration that stayed with them and intellectually influenced their behavior throughout life. But this is [a] chancy … business; it probably depends on just the right input in just the right emotional context, at just the crucial moment in a person’s development. (1995, pp. 30–31)

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I have to believe it was thus with Ms. Eddy. She had to have observed my proclivities toward literature, imagined the possibilities of who I could become, and found a way through the thickets of meaninglessness that surrounded us both. She nurtured those possibilities, I think, with tact (van Manen, 1991), knowing exactly how and what to teach at exactly the right time. Such curricular and pedagogical tactfulness can awaken a student out of slumber, foster a degree of self-awareness, and encourage personal growth. And as for Ms. Rose, perhaps we can substitute the term non-hero for villain. She may have been, for many reasons, simply unable to recognize and break through the static structure – the hidden curriculum – that enveloped us. The Ms. Roses of the world need not our disdain, but our help. So have I at least half-succeeded at least in saving Ms. Eddy? I confess that, on gloomy days, I still resonate with the bleakest of postmodernist outlooks on personal agency and the possibilities of an effective, locally negotiated arts curriculum. In especially dark moments, I am susceptible to Althusser’s (1977) notion of an overwhelming, all-encompassing ideology that negates the possibility of free will. In Althusserian determinism, we are all figments of our own imaginations, our inner lives constituted in part by the illusion that we are indeed free agents. But on a clear day I understand the nihilistic implications of that perspective – and a favorite quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald returns to me: The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold opposing ideas in the mind at the same them and still maintain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise. And then I feel smart, and hopeful, and, because I am still able to function, quite sane. Nowadays, more than ever, an ideological state apparatus and an anesthetic larger culture that deliver up a received arts curriculum, may make any rousing of the nascent sensibilities of students seem unattainable for arts teachers. But many find hopelessness unacceptable. So some choose to work outside of their classrooms with like-minded others toward an elevated awareness within the general population of the importance of the artistic imagination. Others are still, like Ms. Eddy, doing their best to make a difference in deep collaboration with their students, through personalized arts curricula that foster genuinely educational and aesthetic experiences. Promethean efforts at all levels of influence, inside the school and in the culture-at-large, seem in order. Those who insist on making things otherwise are, I believe, affirmative postmodern heroes, under few illusions about the nature of the challenge, but searching for just the right time and manner to slice through the miasma. For them, reports of their death may or may not be exaggerated, but are, paradoxically, irrelevant. Imagining themselves alive, as I have imagined my former teacher of composition, they move relentlessly toward the aesthetic, in turn offering the heightened vitality they find in the arts to their students. Determined, wise, tactful, sane, they are indeed the twenty-first century analogues of Ms. Eddy. This Interlude is dedicated to her and to them.

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References Althusser, L. (1977). Lenin and philosophy. (B. Brewster, Trans.). London: New Left Books. Ashley, R. (1988). Geopolitics, supplementary criticism: A reply to Professors Roy and Walker. Alternatives, 13(1), 88–102. Bereiter, C. (1995). A dispositional view of transfer. In A. McKeough, J. Lupart, & A. Mariani (Eds.), Teaching for transfer: Fostering generalization in learning (pp. 21–34). Mahway, NJ: Erlbaum. Bobbitt, F. (1918). The curriculum. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Dewey, J. (1934/1958). Art as experience. New York: Capricorn. Dewey, J. (1938/1963). Experience and education. New York: Collier. Giddens, A. (1984). The constitution of society: Outline of the theory of structuration. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Rosenau, P. (1992). Post-modernism and the social sciences. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Schubert, W. (2004). Perspectives. Journal of Curriculum and Pedagogy, 1(1), 33. van Manen, M. (1991). The tact of teaching: The meaning of pedagogical thoughtfulness. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

16 DANCE CURRICULUM RESEARCH

Donald Blumenfeld-Jones and Sheaun-Yann Liang Arizona State University, U.S.A.

In this chapter we will review dance curriculum research dealing with P-12 education over the past 20 years (1985–2005). In so doing, we have two ends in mind. First, we give a review of what has been done in the field. Second, we will provide some perspective, from time to time, as to what we think is needed in the field, in what ways the field is strong and in what ways the field has proven to be not sufficiently robust. There are three ideas which will structure the material of this chapter (1) The slender volume of explicitly designated dance curriculum research, (2) what constitutes curriculum research in general and how this helps identify dance education research that might be pertinent to curriculum research, and (3) what counts as research in the first place. It is important to set out these ideas as parameters for evaluating what we have chosen to include and how we have commented upon the work. Research explicitly named “dance curriculum research” as such is rare. Locating dance curriculum research requires asking of each possible candidate, “Does this research have implications for curriculum deliberation, curriculum designing, curriculum enactment, curriculum evaluation and/or curriculum experience?” These areas (deliberation, designing, and so forth) constitute the details of curriculum research. In order to determine whether or not specific dance education research qualifies as “curriculum” research, we must determine how it might fit into one of these areas. For example, research that might inquire into teachers’ philosophical thinking about teaching dance can be construed to be attending to curriculum enactment since all teaching proceeds, either tacitly or consciously, from a philosophical base and teachers make choices on this basis. This kind of research might also be useful for thinking about curriculum designing, because philosophical positions also tacitly or consciously guide the decisions people make in designing curriculum. Studying change and/or stability in teacher and/or student attitudes about dance connects well with how a curriculum is being enacted and/or what might be needed in future iterations of this curriculum. Thus, these kinds of studies can be construed as examining curriculum enactment and curriculum evaluation. It is this kind of thinking that structured our review of the literature. 245 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 245–260. © 2007 Springer.

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Curriculum is more complex than conventional understandings of it. We discuss, below, this more complex version of curriculum. In terms of what counts as research, we take “research” to reference both empirical work (gathering data through particular methods and analyzing and discussing it) and philosophical and conceptual work (the researcher presents a question, conceptualizes it in various ways, revealing new dimensions of the question at hand). In general, in an effort to be as open and ecumenical as possible, many kinds of studies and many modes of research are included in this chapter. In reviewing well over 115 articles, book chapters, books, dissertations, and Websites, we selected approximately 60 items which we felt had to do with dance curriculum research.1

Curriculum Definitions and Dance Curriculum Research We begin with defining curriculum. We provide two synergistic definitions which, when taken together, provide a template with which to examine the literature. Curriculum studies scholars widely agree that there are two animating curriculum questions: “What shall we teach?” and “Who shall decide?” “What shall we teach?” guides us toward examining not only content but also curriculum goals, plans for enacting the curriculum, and evaluations of the curriculum’s success at achieving its goals. These concerns translate into suggesting new curriculum efforts, examining how curricula function in real settings, and considering how a curriculum might be changed. These three foci involve curriculum evaluation since in each case we must evaluate what exists in order to determine what to do next, what to change, and what new curriculum efforts we might develop. “Who shall decide” reminds us that curricula are made by people. The pertinent questions include who was involved in planning and evaluation, who was not involved, what processes (social, intellectual, emotional, and so forth) were used in the planning, and what contexts affected the curriculum that resulted from a curriculum planning process. These two overarching questions led us to seek research that examined curriculum plans, the practice of curriculum evaluation, and/or the processes of curriculum deliberation in making plans. Curriculum is also more than goals, content, and plans. John Goodlad (as cited in Blumenfeld-Jones, Barone, Appleton, & Arias, 1995) wrote that at any moment in an educational setting three curricula exist simultaneously: the explicit or formal curriculum found in curriculum documents (district guidelines, standards documents, mission statements, and the like), the operationalized curriculum as the teacher puts the explicit or formal curriculum into action in order to teach, and the experienced curriculum as the learners in the classroom experience the operational curriculum being forwarded by the teacher. Beyond these three curricula many curriculum scholars, beginning with Philip Jackson (as cited in Blumenfeld-Jones et al., 1995), examined the hidden curriculum. This curriculum alerts us to the fact that schools teach more than academics and skills. They also teach how to live in the world. For Jackson this meant learning how to live with “praise, power, and patience” (1983, p. 35). Praise means acknowledging only certain people as being legitimate sources of praise; power means accepting that adults have power the learner doesn’t have; patience means learning to

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wait. These are not part of the explicit curriculum and are not discussed, thus “hidden.” Since Jackson’s work, the “hidden curriculum” notion has been used to describe all of the ideologies that are taught through school: work before play, social class counts, conflict is bad, certain knowledge is more valuable than other knowledge, and more. A fifth curriculum, the null curriculum developed by Eliot Eisner (as cited in Blumenfeld-Jones et al., 1995), reveals that some topics, dispositions, and ways of thinking and being are left entirely out of the curriculum. Thus, if a girl notices that there are no women composers on the walls of her music room, then she learns that women don’t compose music, possibly ruling her out of aspiring to musical composition. She has just pointed out the null curriculum. Dance curriculum research can focus upon describing the effects of a particular dance curriculum upon learning and upon people by studying how teachers enact the curriculum, how students take up the offered curriculum, and how and where the hidden and null curriculum affect learning and experience of dance. The rest of this chapter is devoted to laying out the literature within seven domains: research into explicit or formal curriculum, operationalized curriculum, experienced curriculum, hidden curriculum, null curriculum, the process of creating or redesigning curriculum, and research that evaluates an existing curriculum. It becomes apparent that these categories are not exclusive. While we have made decisions about where particular studies belong, we recognize that different authors might have made different decisions.2

Explicit or Formal Curriculum Research There are several kinds of texts involved in performing explicit curriculum research. State school boards, district school boards, national accrediting bodies and, at least in the case of dance, certain books or journal articles or book chapters propose particular curriculum ideas for use in teaching dance. For the most part such proposals address the question “What shall we teach?” State and district school boards and national accrediting bodies usually stipulate the content and, on occasion (often found in the preamble or introduction to the curriculum), provide justifications for why this particular approach is presented. In books, book chapters, and journal articles, a particular dance curriculum will be promoted, occasionally with material arguing for the curriculum being proposed. There may also be “theoretical” texts that discuss what might be included in the “good” dance curriculum by presenting various ideas about dance curriculum and arguing for one approach. Each of these documents provides the data for analyzing the relationships across goals, content, and plans as well as, perhaps, ideological underpinnings of the proposed curriculum and connecting the curriculum to its social context, and/or the history of dance curriculum up to that moment. In this chapter section we have also included conceptual and/or philosophical curriculum research that proposes a question about dance curriculum to be answered through conceptual/philosophical work. We have divided this work into two parts. In the first part, we describe “research”3 presented as preliminary to actually designing the explicit curriculum, labeling it as “descriptive” work, meaning work that describes the state of affairs in dance curriculum in an effort to lay out what curriculum designers should

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consider in creating concrete curricula. In the second part we describe what we term “critical” research, which examines curriculum from the point of view of the hidden and null curriculum and connects curriculum to social and ideological context and historical concerns. In some cases, we have found that a particular piece might have been placed in a number of curriculum areas (described above) and our choice for placement might be considered arbitrary. We have made choices, recognizing work might be categorized in a number of ways. In future we hope that researchers will more clearly pursue one domain as central to the work, rather than allude to multiple possibilities in the one research work. In so doing, the work can be more focused and, we believe, more thorough. In the explicit curriculum domain we see a slender trend developing over the years, moving from advocacy to more research-based understandings of what might be needed in a dance curriculum. In the advocacy approach, three articles appeared in a 1988 issue of Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance (JOPERD). John McLaughlin (1988) “describe[d] how dance curricula has changed from ‘a stepchild of the arts curriculum’ to “stand[ing] together with music, visual arts, creative writing, and theater, when reformers discuss the term ‘arts education’ ” (p. 59). Some research base is apparent as he noted other events of his time, although even this work was primarily advocacy in character. In that same journal issue, both Beverly Allen (1988) and Elsa Posey (1988) defended linking dance teaching with the Discipline-Based Arts Education movement of the time. In conceptually based research, Kimberly Staley’s dissertation (1993) dealt with establishing a multicultural framework for dance curricula. Her work is similar to that of Alma Hawkins (1954) in that both women investigated what Staley terms “literature on the historical cycles of reform that have occurred in secondary education” (p. vi). In Staley’s case, she “selected theories about multicultural art education and aesthetic principles inherent in dance and visual art are considered” (p. vi) in order to establish the soundness of her approach; this is very similar to Hawkins, who used educational psychology of her time to establish the soundness of her thinking. All of this work, we would argue, is non-empirical in character. That is, neither present-day curriculum (of the time) nor curriculum practice is examined or referenced. In what might be termed more empirical work, one researcher did groundwork research for establishing necessary considerations in making a curriculum. This study, by Sylvie Fortin (1994), is fundamentally descriptive.4 She studied the verbal responses of different groups of high school students to viewing choreography, finding that those with experience in dance were more open to choreographic ideas than those with no experience and noting that gender, which might have been thought to be in play, had no significant effect on the responses. She concluded that her study could help those who desired to advocate integrating dance appreciation into the curriculum. Her findings are not particularly surprising (more education means more knowledge, meaning, usually, more openness to new experiences) and may appear intuitive to those of us who teach dance. We found that empirical study of explicit curriculum was not a welldeveloped research area and hope for more in the future. Critical work deals with examining the formal curriculum for underlying meanings not apparent in the curriculum. It also works to put into the curriculum elements of the

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hidden and null curriculum. In this vein, Joellen Meglin (1994) edited a special section of JOPERD in which she and her authors wrote on the place of gender and multicultural perspectives in the dance curriculum, discussing an Australian gender-fair program (Bond), the pedagogy of teaching dance history (Daly), women and dance performance (Arkin), men and dance (Crawford), using West African dance to combat gender issues (Kerr-Berry), and gender issues in dance curriculum (Ferdun). These works perform what we term simple description in that the authors began with a point of view and then organized materials around that point of view. This sort of research must be distinguished from what is termed “phenomenological” research in which the researcher attempts to describe deep structures of consciousness that give rise to experience. Other works are critical because they link curriculum with larger social, political, and economic issues. In the spirit of a more explicitly critical approach, BlumenfeldJones wrote ideology critiques of formal curriculum (1993, 1995, 1998), a critical historical-hermeneutic study of three dance curricula (2004), and an examination of choosing a particular dance curriculum connected to the community in specific ways (2006). Sue Stinson’s work, while critical, will be discussed in the section devoted to the experienced curriculum. Sherry Shapiro produced an edited volume addressing critical issues in dance pedagogy and dance research (1998) and a volume of her own essays (2001), both of which take a distinctly critical social theory and postmodernist approach to dance curriculum issues and lie, primarily, within the philosophical practice of curriculum inquiry.

Operationalized and Experienced Curricula In the operationalized and experienced curricula research, the curriculum researcher’s prime concern is with what the teacher does with the curriculum being used. That is, the teacher will inevitably make changes to mandated formal curricula in deciding what to actually teach out of that mandate and how to teach it. The students, on the other side, experience the curriculum being offered and their various experiences produce new curricula based on their individuality and how they receive the offered curriculum. The experienced curriculum, unlike either the explicit or operationalized curriculum, is “accidental” in character since the teacher cannot make certain experiences occur, nor can the students plan what experiences they will have. The experienced curriculum is that curriculum which is immediately undergone by the learners. In inquiring into these two curricula, the researcher would observe dance classrooms or classrooms where dance was part of the curriculum and would, hopefully, interview teachers, students, parents, administrators, and other interested parties. In the studies discussed in this section there was some phenomenological work (seeking to understand the students’ experiences in the dance class or the teacher’s experience of enacting the curriculum, and the underlying structures of consciousness that bring about this experience) and there was “naturalistic” inquiry in which the empirical material in the classroom is simply described (“this is what I saw”). In some cases the naturalistic work used Glaser’s and Strauss’s grounded theory (1967) or engaged in case studies, lending more strength to the work. And, as with research into explicit curriculum, some researchers took a critical stance as referenced above.

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Operationalized Curriculum Strong and consistent research in this area has only recently appeared. Before 2001 we found only two pieces deemed to fit in this domain. The first, by Linda Yoder (1992), examined the use of cooperative learning structures for enhancing student skill development in composition and performance. As with much dance curriculum research, Yoder attempted to do many things: identify student attitudes, determine the effects of cooperative learning strategies, and identify possible teaching strategies. This work was done with an eye to “integrat[ing] critical, historical, cultural, social and aesthetic inquiry into student dance-making” (p. 1). The author used multiple data sources: preand post-surveys, written journals, pre- and post-video recordings of individual dance compositions, and interviews, all leading to eight individual case studies. She found that cooperative learning approaches were useful and that survey work was of little help in determining how well cooperative learning worked. On the other hand, in studying attitude, the surveys enhanced understanding. She also found that videos and interviews were the most helpful data collection methods. Kathleen Vail (1997) did an informal study of the New Orleans Center for Creative Activity, a long-standing arts school with an impressive pedigree of graduates, in which she laid out some of the history of the school and included interviews with teachers and the principal. As with other studies, she also included brief discussions of student experience; we have placed her piece in this section because its focus was more on the teaching and organization of the school. Beginning in 2001, we found a stronger set of studies emerging, more explicitly focused on the teacher. Madeleine Lord (2001) performed an “interpretive” study using participant-observer method to describe two practices of improvisation occurring in a secondary school. She examined the teachers’ strategies in relation to the curricular objectives. These objectives were inductively derived from the teachers’ practices and interviews rather than from dance curriculum documents. The study doesn’t really show us the connection (or lack of connection) between what the teachers know about dance (their personal curricula) and what they are supposed to be operationalizing, since the author simply describes how they teach. Laura Shue and Christina Beck (2001) did an ethnography in a nonprofit dance school, attempting to understand “whether or not instructors within this culture perform behaviors that support their espoused critical feminist pedagogical philosophy” (p. 125). They found that “embedded within some of the instructors’ performances are communicative actions that constrain greatly the development of a truly critical feminist pedagogy” (p. 125). Eeva Anttila (2004) studied three dancers/teachers and how they took up a project of dancing out of memories of learning to dance and what it meant for Anttila’s project of dance as liberation. Edward Warburton (2004) used a psychological inventory to examine teachers’ beliefs about critical thinking. He coupled this with their perceptions of their students as either high- or low-advantage students, concluding that good teaching was offered to good students (in terms of how the school perceived them, probably connecting with being high-advantage), but not necessarily to low-advantage students. Ralph Buck (2003) did an interpretive study of teachers’ perspectives on dance in New Zealand primary schools, focusing on the meanings the teachers

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attached to their teaching practices and their relationship to dance for themselves (including concern with what would block them from using dance in their classrooms). Bond and Richard (2005) performed action research with a dance teacher to examine how a teacher’s practice can evolve through self-examination.

Experienced Curriculum Several researchers focused on creative activity and play as people encountered their own dancing. In Denmark, Charlotte Svendler Nielsen (2003) examined video-recordings and interviews with children, seeking “aesthetic moments” children have in making dance. Gunilla Lundquist (2001) wrote on the relationship between dance and play. Her focus was on the experience of children within two approaches to dance education: the Laban approach vs. the Dahlgren approach. She studied how they were taught under these two theories, both of which might support the integration of children’s play with dance but were not used to good effect. Eeva Anttila (2003) participated in an art project in an elementary school in Eastern Helsinki, Finland, bringing together classroom teachers and artists; she studied her own teaching practice and the children’s experiences through an ethnographic lens. Emmely Muehlhauser (1998) studied how students’ owning their learning purposefully engaged them in seeking learning opportunities, constructing meaning, and acting in ways that transcend task completion. She studied both herself in the choreographic process and in teaching dance to children within a choreographic project. As with most of these studies, the work was strongly personal. Other researchers were concerned with how children and young people related to dance. Liesbeth Wildschut (2003) studied the processes of involvement of children watching a dance performance … [focusing] on … the connections between the spectators’ variables “dance experience” and “age,” the performance characteristics of an abstract and a narrative dance performance, the intensity of identification and kinaesthetic involvement and the ability to provide an interpretation of a performance. (p. 247) In a parallel fashion, Ana Macara and Pipsa Nieminen (2003) had children from Portugal and Finland make drawings of people dancing and then interviewed them. The study was to look at how “the representation of dance is determined by social and cultural environment” (p. 220). Nelson Neal and Sylvie Fortin (1986) used a survey with French-Canadian elementary aged children in Canada, to study attitude differences in the psychological domains of affect, behavior, and cognition and whether or not a change in only one domain stimulated a change in other domains. Additionally, Neal examined whether native speaking (French) vs. nonnative speaking teachers (English) made a difference. He concluded that psychological domains don’t interact and that the attitudes of the subjects shifted based on direct participation and whether or not the teacher spoke the native language of the subjects. Sue Stinson, Jan Van Dyke, and Donald Blumenfeld-Jones (1990) did a phenomenological study of seven

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adolescent girls making the transition in their dance lives as studio dancers, considering whether or not dance was a life they could live in the future. This study attempted to illuminate the underlying patterns of thought within each individual and across the group, seeking to describe the “culture” of the dance studio and dance world and how ideas about place in that world were communicated. Such a study exemplifies the phenomenological tradition because the underlying structures of consciousness are developed and the students’ ideas and feelings are contextualized within a larger cultural framework. Stinson followed with a study of adolescent experience among high school (1993a, 1993b, 1993c) and middle school (1997) dance students and, with Karen Bond, a large international study of young people’s experience in dance (Bond & Stinson, 2000–2001). In two further studies, Bond engaged in examining the experienced curriculum. In a 1994 study, she looked at children with multiple physical and psychological disabilities using an experimental design and coding both the treatment group and the control group behaviors. She discovered that there was statistically significant change in the treatment group, concluding that those children used dance as an effective way in expression, communication, and learning. In a second study, Bond (2001) examined how using teacher and child responses to dance curriculum integrated with daily curriculum (what Bond terms “emergent curriculum” design) can increase engagement on the part of learners.

Hidden and Null Curricula Two other curricula are in force in the classroom: the hidden curriculum and the null curriculum. Both have been well documented by curriculum theorists. These curricula lie “outside” the formal, operationalized, and experienced curricula, but they exercise enormous power within educational settings. For instance, the notion that a dancer becomes freed through self-discipline in the rigors of dancing is not part of dance per se, but is a cultural message about what it means to dance. The message that only certain types of bodies can be properly disciplined to be successful in dance is part of the hidden curriculum which has nothing to do with the ability to dance well but is more aligned with predominating professional realities. Dancing as a “pure” act is supplemented by sociological considerations. These curriculum messages are part of the hidden curriculum because they are not discussed in the explicit, formal curriculum, yet they are as much learned as the formal material. The null curriculum, in parallel fashion, points toward the exclusion of certain values and certain kinds of people, making them invisible. There are messages here as well, but they are messages about invisibility rather than how or who to be. A dance curriculum researcher would perform the same kinds of field work as with the operationalized and experienced curricula but might bring to the study outside ideas pertaining to issues of power, justice, and the state. These studies, as with the operationalized and experienced curricula, would be, more than likely, phenomenological, naturalistic, or case studies but with a critical viewpoint added to them. Several pieces appeared to address the hidden or the null curriculum. Karen Hubbard and Pamela Sofras (1998) addressed how to include African and African-American

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culture in the historically Eurocentric dance curriculum. Blumenfeld-Jones, in performing ideology critique (1993, 1995, 1998), discussed how the hidden curriculum is embedded in how we speak and write about dance. Sue Stinson (2005a) has a piece directly confronting the hidden curriculum of gender in dance teaching. As can be seen, this is a very underdeveloped area of investigation.

Curriculum Deliberation Studying curriculum deliberation involves studying the processes an individual or group uses to design a curriculum. Three studies were found which partially fulfilled this domain. J. Huang (1998), in China, interviewed 11 dance specialists and sent questionnaires to administrators, teachers, and dance students of the Beijing Dance Academy. The study focused on educational objectives, characteristics of learners, assessment of learning outcomes, curriculum design, and instructional resources. The researcher concluded that there was a need for an advanced-level dance education program. This information, coupled with models from the United States, was used to design an overall mission statement and a basic curriculum design. The design process was research based although the actual process itself was not studied. Jeff Meiners (2001) reported on the various steps taken in writing a curriculum, again only providing a simple description of the process and not investigating who was involved or the context of the design process. For a study of curriculum deliberation to be most useful, we would want to see an examination of how extra-deliberative forces affect decision making. Such forces are, for instance, an environment of high-stakes testing, community demands upon the curriculum designers, cultural influences and value orientations of the designers, and so forth. Two studies provided a bit more of such context regarding the curriculum design process. Isabel Marques (1995) studied the inclusion of dance in the Sa˘ o Paulo City Brazil school curriculum during the period 1991 to 1992, paying special attention to the relationship between university faculty and school faculty. Her explicit intent was to establish a different kind of relationship between theory and practice, with the teachers (practice) exerting more influence over the outcomes than the university people (theory). Jennifer van Papendorp (2003) examined a new South African curriculum, describing the context in which the curriculum was developed and how the development process took into account multiple needs, both global and local, and focused especially upon cultural diversity. Since this study examines contexts outside of the dance curriculum itself, it could also be considered to be a “critical” piece, in that deeper political issues are broached. Given the slenderness of studies in this curriculum domain and given that a curriculum is profoundly affected by how it is designed and who is involved, studying the process individuals and/or groups use to design curriculum is very important. Sue Stinson has a very large number of studies dealing with curriculum designing. Most of these studies are conceptual in character but are research in the vein of philosophical work, which sets out a problem and then explores the dimension of the problem through various thought experiments and conceptual analyses. These studies range from aesthetic experience in children, through Piagetian perspectives to the

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processes of curriculum design (1982, 1985a, 1985b, 1986a, 1986b, 1991, 1998, 2001, 2004, 2005b).

Curriculum Evaluation By far the largest number of studies focused on versions of curriculum evaluation, although many of the studies were not presented as such. Since, however, they were measuring the outcomes of the curriculum, we may take it that they are forms of curriculum evaluation. Here the appropriate article, book chapter, and so forth, is one in which a specific curriculum enactment is examined, analysis is provided about what is found, and our understanding of that curriculum is expanded. The dance curriculum may be evaluated naturalistically, as developed by Robert Stake (2003), may be studied via other program evaluation approaches, or may be studied quantitatively. It is more likely that a dance curriculum will be evaluated within the larger context of a fine arts curriculum, and curriculum evaluations may be designed to assess the impact dance experiences have on academic performances. A number of studies focused on psychological issues, both attitude and self-esteem. Leigh McSwain (1994) used a survey instrument to investigate attitudes toward dance among Sydney high school students. She sought to understand the “nature and extent of [boys’ rejection of dance] as well as ‘mapping out’ the perceptions and attitudes of adolescents in general, towards dance” (p. 253). Sue Graham (1994) did a quantitative survey evaluation of the effect of movement and dance on self-esteem, investigating the claim from the New Zealand 1987 Physical Education Syllabus that “improved self-esteem [is] a potential, personal and social development outcome” (p. 162). Her study proceeded from an eight-week Social Partner Dancing Program. She noted that the instrument she used may not have been robust, thus weakening the outcome. Robyne Garrett (1994) studied the influence of dance on adolescent self-esteem through a quasi-experimental design, concluding that the group that received the treatment curriculum had greater improvement in self-esteem than the group that didn’t receive the treatment. A multiple measurement approach, incorporating both quantitative and qualitative observations, was used to assess the impact of dance education. The bulk of the paper examines the pedagogy of dance in education … focus[ing] on approaches to dance teaching which may take advantage of its positive influences on self-esteem … [proposing] possible strategies and teaching methods to be framed which illuminate the potential of dance as a tool for learning and personal growth. (p. 134) Melinda Blomquist (1998) used a self-concept instrument to measure self-discovery through dance, in the context of a teaching strategy she termed “reciprocal teaching.” She analyzed how the teaching process was administered to each of the study group classes, and used narrative description to document how the students progressed, as well as what actually took place in class each day. She found that the change in selfconcept was not statistically significant. She noted that reciprocal teaching did have some positive effect on self-discovery, but she did not derive this inference statistically.

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Some studies focused on contextual “critical” issues in dance curriculum design and implementation. Lina Chow (2002) surveyed teachers in 10 primary and 11 secondary schools who were participating in a seed project titled the “Comprehensive Dance Project” initiated by the Curriculum Development Institute of the Education Department of Hong Kong. “Results obtained from the survey provided a preliminary report on teachers” views towards the existing and the proposed dance curriculum. The need for the new dance curriculum was also examined. (p. 1) Sita Popat (2002) examined a web-based communications curriculum (TRIAD), studying 40 young dancers aged 9 to 18 from Britain, Portugal, and America, and how they used the Internet to share choreographic ideas. Although this study looked at student practices in the curriculum (perhaps making it an experienced curriculum study), it did not attend to the experience of those students. Rather, the author assessed the way the curriculum functioned. We have placed it in the category of curriculum evaluation because it was dedicated to instructing us as to better ways of teaching choreography. There were four studies that focused on dance as a means to other than dance ends. Two studies focused on children with special education needs. Martha Cherry Mentzer and Boni B. Boswell (1995) used “anecdotal records, observational checklists, questionnaires/interviews with staff and the children, and children’s original poetry” to examine “the efficacy of a movement poetry program on enhancing selected creativity variables of children with behavioral disorders. Two participants, aged 7 and 10, took part in … 16 50-minute sessions … over 10 weeks” (p. 183). They found support for their belief that dance could help these children. Ann Ross and Stephen Butterfield (1989) gave a 36-week curriculum of Dance Movement Education (D/ME) to supplement their test group’s regular physical education curriculum. Using a pretest/post-test design, they found that D/ME “contributed to the children’s improved motor skill performance,” but they cautioned that these children were also undergoing “the effects of their growth and maturation” (p. 54). They used no control group, deeming it “unethical” to deny anyone this opportunity. Thus it is not possible to tell whether the intervention was the cause of the change found. Wendy Funk (1995) studied the effects of creative dance on movement creativity in general, in other words, studying transfer. This study compared results of pre- and post-test scores of an experimental group who received the dance treatment and a control group who received no treatment; the author had a coding scheme for determining the amount of creativity a child showed. She found significant changes in three areas in the experimental group and one area in the control group. However, when all seven dance factors were combined and evaluated together, neither the experimental nor control group had a significant change. Because there was increase in both groups, the changes in the results could not accurately be attributed to the treatment, thus disconfirming the hypothesis. However, the author went on to assert that the project demonstrated one way dance could be used to develop movement creativity in children in the public school setting. This assertion is confusing since it contradicts her findings (that creativity was not enhanced as she had envisioned). Louie Suthers and Veronikah Larkin (1996) also studied creativity,

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although in their case it was dance embedded in early childhood arts games. They contended that the games worked well in the classroom and teachers, initially skeptical and reluctant to use the games, eventually came to accept the games as useful something they could actually use the games to develop good self-concept in their learners. In terms of overall curriculum evaluation, only one citation was found. The Indiana Arts Commission (Art literacy in Indiana, 1990) sponsored an assessment of the status of the arts in public education in the state. They focused their attention on what students should learn through encounters with art practice and what districts need to do in order to make the arts more available. The need for more research in curriculum assessment is an important issue for the field. While there may be many dance programs throughout the Unites States and internationally, there is no sense of how well they are doing what they claim to do.

Conclusion In the conclusion of this chapter we have two major points to make, one pertaining to the contents of the chapter and the other, a challenge to the reader. In terms of the contents, we hope the reader will understand that we may have missed some work. And, we only very briefly summarized the work and hope the reader will seek out the full articles, chapters, and books, as well as other works by these authors. In terms of a challenge to the reader, as we look over the work reviewed we find a preponderance of work is not particularly robust, including what we would consider an over-reliance on surveys, questionnaires, and psychological inventories. We would argue that dance learning is too complex to be understood through these means. We have also shown that there are some significant gaps in the literature. We hope that our identification of them will encourage researchers to embark upon new work and begin to fill in some of these gaps in dance curriculum research.

Notes 1. A note on sources is appropriate. Sheau-Yann Liang, the first author’s graduate assistant, did an extensive search of databases that might yield documents. She primarily covered journals, dissertations, books, monographs, and conference proceedings. The authors added Websites to the possibilities through using a search engine with the terms “dance curriculum research” and “dance curriculum.” Additionally, the authors sought book chapters and books that might be pertinent but did not appear in search of databases. The authors read through the 2004 report from the National Dance Education Organization (Bonbright & Faber, 2004) and have taken its sources into account. However, they do recognize that the search, while extensive, could not possibly be exhaustive. They hope, therefore, that readers will be willing to share updates of materials not included, using the guidelines described in this chapter vis-á-vis objects of inquiry and modes of inquiry. 2. We considered including teacher education in this chapter for, although this curriculum occurs in higher education settings, it directly affects curriculum in P-12. However, due to space limitations we simply point the reader toward the work of Sue Stinson and Jill Green, in particular. We recognize that there may be more people doing such research but our literature review didn’t reveal it. 3. “Research” is put in quotes to indicate that some of this work only marginally fits our definition of research because it is advocacy oriented.

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4. By descriptive we mean that researchers do not interpret what is found for meanings beyond practical actions to be taken. They do not seek deeper meanings that might be occurring for the participants in their studies. See examples of meaning-oriented studies in both the Operationalized and Experienced Curriculum sections of this chapter.

References Allen, B. (1988). Teaching training and discipline-based dance education. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 59(9), 65–69. Anttila, E. (2003). A dream journey to the unknown: Searching for dialogue in dance education. Helsinki: Theatre Academy (ACTA SCENICA 14). Anttila, E. (2004). Dance learning as practice of freedom in the same difference? In L. Rouhiainen, E. Anttila, S. Hämäläinen, & T. Löytönen (Eds.), Ethical and political perspectives on dance (pp. 19–64). Helsinki, Finland: Theatre Academy. Arkin, L. C. (1994). Dancing the body: Women and dance performance in Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 37–38, 43. Art literacy in Indiana: An imperative for change. (1990). Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Bureau. National Endowment for the Arts, Washington, DC. & Indiana Arts Commission, Indianapolis. 1990 (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED334115). Blomquist, M. E. (1998). The effect of the reciprocal approach in teaching on the process of self-discovery for beginning modern dance students at the secondary level. Unpublished master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. S. (1993). Democracy education and human rights: A critical analysis in Education in Asia, XII(2), 31–35. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. S. (1995). Curriculum, control and creativity: An examination of curricular language and educational values. Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, 11(1), 73–96. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. S. (1998). What are the arts for?: Maxine Greene, the studio and performing arts, and education. In W. Pinar (Ed.), The Passionate mind of Maxine Greene “I am … not yet” (pp. 160–173). London: Falmer Press. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. S. (2004). Dance curriculum then and now: A critical hermeneutic analysis. In W. Reynolds & J. Webber (Eds.), Expanding curriculum theory: Dis/positions and lines of flight (pp. 125–153). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. (2006). Aesthetic consciousness and dance curriculum: Liberation possibilities for inner city schools. In K. Rose & J. Kinchloe (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Urban Education (pp. 508–518). Westport, CT: Greenwood. Blumenfeld-Jones, D. S., Barone, T. E., Appleton, N., & Arias, M. B. (1995). Curriculum and the public schools. In R. Stout (Ed.), Making the grade: Arizona’s K-12 education (pp. 43–62). Phoenix: Arizona Town Hall. Bonbright, J. M., & Faber, R. (Eds.). (2004). Research priorities for dance education: A report to the nation. Bethesda, MD: National Dance Education Organization. Bond, K. (1994). How “wild things” tamed gender distinctions. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 28–33. Bond, K. E. (2001). “I’m not an eagle, I’m a chicken!” Young children’s perceptions of creative dance. Early Childhood Connections, 7(4), 41–51. Bond, K. E., & Richard, B. (2005). “Ladies and gentlemen: What do you see? What do you feel?” A story of connected curriculum in a third grade dance education setting. In L. Overby & B. Lepczyk (Eds.), Dance: Current selected research, Vol. 5 (pp. 85–133). New York: AMS Press. Bond, K., & Stinson, S. W. (2000/2001). “I feel like I’m going to take off!”: Young people’s experiences of the superordinary in dance. Dance Research Journal, 32(2), 52–87. Buck, R. (2003). Teachers and dance in the classroom: So, do I need my tutu? Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand.

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Chow, L. P. Y. (2002, July). Is it the right time for a new dance curriculum in Hong Kong? Paper presented at the 23rd ACHPER biennial conference on interactive health and physical education, Launceston, Tasmania, Australia. Retrieved January 30, 2005 from http://www.ausport.gov.au/fulltext/2002/achper/Chow.pdf Crawford, J. R. (1994). Encouraging male participation in dance. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 40–43. Daly, A. (1994). Gender issues in dance history pedagogy. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 34–35, 39. Ferdun, E. (1994). Facing gender issues across the curriculum. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 46–48. Fortin, S. (1994). A description of high school students’ verbal responses to a contemporary dance work. In W. Schiller & D. Spurgeon (Eds.), Kindle the fire: Proceedings of the 1994 conference of dance and the child: International (pp. 107–118). Sydney: Macquarie University. Funk, W. W. (1995). The effects of creative dance on movement creativity in third grade children. Unpublished master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Garrett, R. (1994). The influence of dance on adolescent self-esteem. In W. Schiller, & D. Spurgeon (Eds.), Kindle the fire: Proceedings of the 1994 conference of dance and the child: International (pp. 134–141). Sydney: Macquarie University. Glaser, B., & Strauss, A. (1967). Discovery of grounded theory: Strategies for qualitative research. Chicago, IL: Aldine. Graham, S. F. (1994). A quantitative evaluation of the effect of movement and dance on self-esteem. In W. Schiller & D. Spurgeon (Eds.), Kindle the Fire: Proceedings of the 1994 conference of dance and the child: International (pp. 162–165). Sydney: Macquarie University. Hawkins, A. (1954). Modern dance in higher education. New York: Teachers College Press. Huang, J. (1998). Developing a graduate dance curriculum model for the Beijing dance academy in China. Unpublished master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Hubbard, K. W., & Sofras, P. A. (1998). Strategies for including African and African-American culture in a historically Euro-centric dance curriculum. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 69(2), 77–82. Jackson, P. (1983). The daily grind in (Henry Giroux and David Purpel, Eds.) The hidden curriculum and moral education (pp. 28–60). Berkeley, CA: McCutchan Publishing Corporation. Kerr-Berry, J. A. (1994). Using the power of West African dance to combat gender issues. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 44–45, 48. Lord, M. (2001). Fostering the growth of beginners’ improvisational skills: A study of dance teaching practices in the high school setting. Research in Dance Education, 2(1), 19–40. Lundquist, G. (2001). The relationship between play and dance. Research in Dance Education, 2(1), 41–52. Macara, A., & Nieminen, P. (2003). Children’s representations of dancers and dancing. In Diálogos Possíveis: Special edition with the proceedings of the 9th dance and the child international conference (pp. 95–101). Salvadore, Bahia, Brazil: Faculdade Social da Bahia. Marques, I. A. (1995). A partnership toward art in education: Approaching a relationship between theory and practice. Impulse: The International Journal of Dance Science, Medicine & Education, 3(2), 86–101. McLaughlin, J. (1988). A stepchild comes of age. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 59(9), 58–60. McSwain, L. (1994). An investigation of attitudes towards dance among Sydney high school students. In W. Schiller & D. Spurgeon (Eds.), Kindle the fire: Proceedings of the 1994 conference of dance and the child: International (pp. 253–260). Sydney: Macquarie University. Meglin, J. A. (Ed.). (1994). Dance dynamics: Gender issues in dance education. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 65(2), 25–48. Meiners, J. (2001). A dance syllabus writer’s perspective: The new south Wales K-6 dance syllabus. Research in Dance Education, 2(1), 79–88. Mentzer, M. C., & Boswell, B. B. (1995). Effects of a movement poetry program on creativity of children with behavioral disorders. Impulse: The International Journal of Dance Science, Medicine & Education, 3(3), 183–199.

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Muehlhauser, E. K. (1998). Exploring ownership of learning in children’s choreographic projects. Unpublished master’s thesis, University of Oregon, Eugene, Oregon. Neal, N. D., & Fortin, S. (1986). Domain discrimination in dance attitude research (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED309146). Nielsen, C. S. (2003). Dance as a form language in Danish schools. In Diálogos Possíveis: Special edition with the proceedings of the 9th dance and the child international conference (pp. 131–135). Salvadore, Bahia, Brazil: Faculdade Social da Bahia. Popat, S. (2002). The TRIAD project: Using internet communications to challenge students’ understandings of choreography. Research in Dance Education, 3(1), 21–34. Posey, E. (1988). Discipline-based arts education: Developing a dance curriculum. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 59(9), 61–64. Ross, A., & Butterfield, S. A. (1989). The effects of a dance movement education curriculum on selected psychom*otor skills of children in grades K-8. Research in Rural Education, 6(1), 51–56. Shapiro, S. B. (1998). Dance power and difference: Critical and feminist perspectives on dance education. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics. Shapiro, S. B. (2001). Pedagogy and the politics of the body. New York: Garland. Shue, L. L., & Beck, C. S. (2001). Stepping out of bounds: Performing feminist pedagogy within a dance education. Communication Education, 50(2), 125–143. Stake, R. E. (2003). Standards-based and responsive evaluation. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Staley, K. T. (1993). Educating through dance: A multicultural theoretical framework. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Texas Woman’s University, Denton. Stinson, S. W. (1982). Aesthetic experience in children’s dance. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 53(4), 72–74. Stinson, S. W. (1985a). Curriculum and the morality of aesthetics. Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, 6(3), 66–83. Stinson, S. W. (1985b). Piaget for dance educators: A theoretical study. Dance Research Journal, l7(1), 9–16. Stinson, S. W. (1986a). Children’s dance: A larger context. Drama/Dance, 5(2), 6–l8. Stinson, S. W. (1986b). Planning the dance curriculum: A process of dialogue. Drama/Dance, 5(2), 36–46, 51–53. Stinson, S. W. (1991). Dance as curriculum, curriculum as dance. In G. Willis & W.H. Schubert (Eds.), Reflections from the heart of curriculum inquiry: Understanding curriculum and teaching through the arts (pp. 190–196). New York: State University of New York Press. Stinson, S. W. (1993a). Meaning and value: Reflecting on what students say about school. Journal of Curriculum & Supervision, 8(3), 216–238. Stinson, S. W. (1993b). A place called dance in school: Reflecting on what the students say. Impulse: The International Journal of Dance Science, Medicine, & Education, 1(2), 90–114. Stinson, S. W. (1993c). Voices from schools: The significance of relationship to public school dance students. Journal of Physical Education, Recreation & Dance, 64(5), 52–56. Stinson, S. W. (1997). A question of fun: Adolescent engagement in dance education. Dance Research Journal, 29(2), 49–69. Stinson, S. W. (2001). Choreographing a life: Reflections on curriculum design, consciousness, and possibility. Journal of Dance Education, 1(1), 26–33. Stinson, S. W. (2004). Teaching ethical thinking to prospective dance educators. In L. Rouhiainen, E. Anttila, S. Hämalainen, & T. Löytönen (Eds.), The same difference? Ethical and political perspectives on dance (pp. 235–279). Helsinki, Finland: Theatre Academy. Stinson, S. W. (2005a). The hidden curriculum of gender in dance education. Journal of Dance Education, 5(2), 51–57. Stinson, S. W. (2005b). Why are we doing this? Journal of Dance Education, 5(3), 82–89. Stinson, S. W., Van Dyke, J., & Blumenfeld-Jones, D. (1990). Voices of adolescent girls in dance. Dance Research Journal, 22(2), 13–22. Suthers, L., & Larkin, V. (1996). Early childhood arts games. Newcastle, Australia: Macquarie University (Eric Document Reproduction Service No. ED403 056). Vail, K. (1997). Practice makes perfect. American School Board Journal, 184(6), 28–31.

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van Papendorp, J. (2003). Dance, culture and the curriculum. In Diálogos Possíveis: Special edition with the proceedings of the 9th dance and the child international conference (pp. 195–201). Salvadore, Bahia, Brazil: Faculdade Social da Bahia. Warburton, E. C. (2004). Knowing what it takes: The effect of perceived learner advantage on dance teachers’ use of critical-thinking activities. Research in Dance Education, 5(1), 69–82. Wildschut, L. (2003). How children experience watching dance. Special proceedings of the 9th dance and the child international conference. In Diálogos Possíveis: Special edition with the proceedings of the 9th dance and the child international conference (pp. 247–259). Salvadore, Bahia, Brazil: Faculdade Social da Bahia. Yoder, L. (1992). Enhancing individual skills in dance composition and performance using cooperative learning structures. New York: The National Arts Education Research Center at New York University. (Eric Document Reproduction Service No. ED 366 597).

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 16.1 Research on Dance Curriculum in Australia and New Zealand Ralph Buck University of Auckland, New Zealand

Research examining historical foundations of dance curriculum in Australia and New Zealand (Buck, 2003; Osmotherly, 1991) has noted the significance of work outside the time frame of this chapter, especially conceptualization of dance curriculum by United Kingdom dance educator Janet Adshead (1981). In New Zealand, Tina Hong completed her doctoral thesis on Developing Dance Literacy in the Postmodern: An Approach to Curriculum in 2002. This curriculum research informed the development of the document The Arts in the New Zealand Curriculum (2000) and most specifically the dance component within this document. It is heartening to know that as this Handbook goes to press there are other scholars in New Zealand completing research in curriculum evaluation and history. Within the Asia Pacific region, dance education is changing and growing rapidly. In Hong Kong, Sue Street (2001) acknowledged the pedagogical and curriculum shifts and visions, while research by Tak-on (2003) outlined survey data reflecting curriculum deliberation and evaluation. Similarly, in Singapore Carino (2001) provided insightful formal curriculum research into the design of a dance education elective program in the school curriculum.

References Adshead, J. (1981). The study of dance. London: Dance Books. Buck, R. (2003). Teachers and dance in the classroom: “So, do I need my tutu?” Unpublished Ph.D., University of Otago, Dunedin. Carino, C. (2001). Creating a dance elective program: A proposal for Singapore. In S. Burridge (Ed.), World dance alliance 2001 Singapore: Asia pacific dance Bridge (pp. 85–99). Singapore: World Dance Alliance. Hong, T. (2002). Developing dance literacy in the postmodern: An approach to curriculum. Unpublished Ph.D., Griffith University, Brisbane. Ministry of Education New Zealand. (2000). The Arts in the New Zealand curriculum. Wellington: Learning Media.

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Osmotherly, R. (1991). Dance education in Australian schools. Brisbane: Australian Association for Dance Education. Street, S. (2001). New developments in dance education in Hong Kong. In S. Burridge (Ed.), World dance alliance: Asia pacific dance bridge Singapore 2001 (pp. 65–71). Singapore: World Dance Alliance. Tak-on, S. (2003). School dance education research and development project: Report of the questionnaire survey and summary of the interviews. Hong Kong: The Hong Kong Dance Alliance.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 16.2 Dance Curriculum Research in Africa

Minette Mans Windhoek, Namibia

In Africa, the notion that African dance is exotic but does not belong in formalized curricula has severely limited research in dance curriculum. Dance education in schools is rare, exceptions being a few specialized art schools in South Africa, Ghana, and Nigeria. Existing dance curricula usually promote a specific way of teaching, and advanced students learn the practice with good choreographers. Tertiary education in dance can be found at several universities across the continent, but to date these curricula generally remain firmly rooted in Western dance principles, with African dance classes attached as extras. A notable exception was Mudra Afrique (1977–1986) in Dakar, where Germaine Acogny developed an African dance curriculum into which she also blended certain Western techniques. A quick glance at recent South African attempts to Africanize existing dance curricula in schools, shows that while they espouse multiculturalism in theory (learning “cultural dances” as though they are and always will be frozen in time), there are no clear indications what a teacher or learner should do, except to consult with “experts in the community.” Research continues to conceptually explore and refine the philosophies that underpin African dance (Asante, 1996), or to record the countless ethnochoreological studies that explore characteristics of dance in different regions. In early development stages yet, several dancer-scholars are attempting to formalize a Pan-African dance system that would not be overly influenced by culture, ethnicity, or region, but which addresses commonalities of dance within the broader African continental context. Tiérou (1992), Dagan (1997), Mans (1997), Bakare and Mans (2003), and others, have all tried to extract movement components and stances from the broader scheme of African traditions, and to reduce them to common basics. In Namibia, this led to a national dance curriculum for schools that would incorporate these movements. It appears that no research in African dance curricula has been done on the effects of a particular dance curriculum on students or teachers. Evaluations of the outcomes of dance curricula take place at school level in certain countries, but this has yet to be 263 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 263–264. © 2007 Springer.

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collated and analyzed. The field of dance curriculum research requires urgent attention if dance is to play out its educational role as fundamental embodiment of Africanness.

References Asante, K. W. (Ed.). (1996). African dance: An artistic, historical and philosophical inquiry. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press. Bakare, O. R., & Mans, M. E. (2003). Dance philosophies and vocabularies. In A. Herbst, M. Nzewi, & K. Agawu (Eds.), Musical arts in Africa: Theory, practice and education (pp. 215–235). Pretoria: Unisa Press. Dagan, E. (Ed.). (1997). The spirit’s dance in Africa: Evolution, transformation and continuity in subSahara. Montreal: Galerie Amrad African Art Publications. Mans, M. E. (1997). Namibian music and dance as ngoma in arts curricula. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Natal, Durban. Tiérou, A. (1992). Dooplé: The eternal law of African dance. Choreography and Dance Studies Vol. 2. Chur, Switzerland: Harwood.

17 MUSIC (AND ARTS) EDUCATION FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF DIDAKTIK AND BILDUNG Frede V. Nielsen Danish University of Education, Denmark

This chapter deals with the theoretical basis of music education from the perspective of Didaktik and Bildung. Parallels will be drawn to education in other arts subjects. The concepts of Didaktik and Bildung are closely connected with a continental European pedagogic tradition and have special significance in the German language area and in Scandinavia. Because no terms in English readily correspond to Didaktik and Bildung, the German terms will be used in order to retain the intended conceptual content. For the adjective form of Didaktik, “Didactic” is suggested. The chapter will focus on Didaktik in the tradition of Bildung.1 The text emphasizes the situation and development in Germany and Scandinavia after approximately 1950, when Didaktik grew as a specific area of theory and research. In the case of subjectmatter Didaktik, this took place especially after 1970.

The Concept and the Object of Study of Didaktik Concept and Tradition The word “Didaktik” derives from the Greek didáskein (to teach, to be taught). A corresponding expression in Latin is didactica, which is found in more recent times in the famous work Didactica magna by J. A. Comenius (1592–1670) (Comenius, 1985). Didaktik as an object of study within pedagogy and as a theoretical and scientific discipline is closely related to the tradition of German humanities (Geisteswissenschaft) over the last 200 years (Hermann, 1983; Thiersch, 1983). In the second half of the twentieth century, key figures affiliated with Didaktik in general (allgemeine Didaktik) include Erich Weniger (1894–1961), Herwig Blankertz (1927–1983), Paul Heimann (1901–1976), Wolfgang Schulz (1929–1993), Gunter Otto (1927–1999), Hilbert L. Meyer (born 1941), and not least, Wolfgang Klafki (born 1927). 265 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 265–286. © 2007 Springer.

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The German and Scandinavian concept of Didaktik refers to a particular pedagogic tradition, even though, like the Anglo-American concept of curriculum, it deals with teaching/learning and its written basis (“Lehrplan” and “curriculum” respectively).2 Research in the Didaktik tradition is distinctive in that it is analytically reflective, philosophically interpretive and critical. This can be explained by the fact that Didaktik, in terms of both theory and practice, is intertwined in a vision of human Bildung and related thinking about the rationale of upbringing and education. In the Didaktik tradition, the teacher is expected to be able to take part in discussions about educational aim and content and to contribute to developing them. This affects teacher training at colleges and universities of education, which therefore become the home of Didaktik as scholarly activity. The curriculum tradition has affected the European Didaktik tradition in two waves. In the 1970s and 1980s, a “curriculum revision” manifested itself in Germany, but on the whole it seems to have taken place within the framework of Bildung theory.3 In the past decade the part of curriculum thinking that focuses on teaching and learning as goal and standard oriented has been influential in countries that are otherwise characterized by the Didaktik tradition.

Demarcation There are diverging conceptions and theories of how Didaktik is to be delimited in relation to other subsections of pedagogy. Roughly speaking, there exist (a) a specific conception of Didaktik, which is first and foremost concerned with the question of the content, aim, and rationale of teaching and learning, together with the criteria for the selection of content, and (b) a broad conception, according to which practically all problems regarding teaching and learning are viewed as Didactic, including questions of teaching methods, forms of organization, and the choice of media (Heimann, Otto, & Schulz, 1965; Schulz, 1970). The “correct” demarcation of the field of Didaktik can only be determined on the basis of a given theoretical position.4 This does not mean that one can arbitrarily choose the extent to which questions of the method and organization of teaching and learning, the choice of media, and so forth, are important or not. The problem is whether they are regarded as questions of another category than questions about the content and rationale of teaching/learning, and are in principle subordinate to them (AdlAmini, 1981, 1986). From the perspective of Bildung, this would be the case (a relationship also referred to as Primat der Didaktik, primacy of Didaktik). On the other hand, it has been claimed that there is an interplay between the goal, content and method dimensions of teaching/learning as equally important (Jank & Meyer, 2002), or that it is a case of an “inter-dependency” (Adl-Amini, 1986; Blankertz, 1975). The treatment of this problem is complicated, however, in part by the presupposed Bildung theoretical perspective, and in part by problems related to the determination of the very concept of teaching/learning content as a theoretical category. Nonetheless at present it is possible to summarize one main problem of Didaktik based on the concept of Bildung in the following question: What is (most) essential to learn and therefore to teach and why? Künzli puts it this way: “We may identify the

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more or less explicit predominance of the content aspect over the other aspects of instruction as the fundamental characteristic of German Didaktik” (2000, p. 43). Didaktik denotes both (1) the theory and science and (2) the planning and decisionmaking of teaching and learning. “Didaktik” thus refers to both theoretically oriented and the practically directed concerns. A widespread understanding of the object of study of Didaktik can therefore, conditioned by the specific Didaktik concept, be summarized in the following definition: Didaktik deals with the theory and science as well as the planning and decision-making of the content, aim and rationale of teaching/learning. In the case of the broad Didaktik concept, methodological and organizational issues, choice of media and so forth are also comprised. Jank and Meyer opt for an even broader definition: “Didaktik is the theory and practice of learning and teaching” (2002, p. 14).5 It may seem inappropriate to let “Didaktik” refer to both a theoretically oriented and a practically directed perspective on teaching and learning. Attempts have been made to make a systematic distinction between the two perspectives by distinguishing between (a) Didaktologie (didactology) that is a descriptive, analytical, theoretical and science-oriented perspective, and (b) Didaktik (didactics) that is a normative, prescriptive, practical and action-oriented perspective (Nielsen, 2005).

Subject-Matter Didaktik (“Fachdidaktik”) Where there is teaching, something is taught. There will always be educational content. It is the task of subject-matter Didaktik to deal with teaching/learning content or the potential content of a subject area (e.g., the arts), a subject (e.g., music) or parts of a subject (e.g., singing, playing, composition, or music of a given period) in a more concrete form than is possible within general Didaktik. Since subjects have different characteristics and traditions (e.g., arts subjects vs. science subjects or music vs. visual art), and these differences color Didactic thinking about and in the subject, it may be more correct to speak of subject-matter Didaktiks in the plural. W. Klafki has emphasized subject-matter Didaktik as a “field of relations” between the subject and pedagogy: The individual sciences do not in themselves develop adequate selection criteria, even though of course Didactic decisions cannot be made irrespective of the sciences they refer to. As independent scientific disciplines, the Didaktik of individual subjects must be developed in the boundary between, or rather: in the field of relations [italics added] between pedagogical sciences and basic sciences. (Klafki, 1985, pp. 36–37)6 The subject-oriented Didactic analysis and reflection as the precondition of selecting and justifying educational content, planning of the teaching/learning process and explication of its conditions take place (a) on various levels and (b) in several dimensions related to the significance of the content for the student. (a) On a general level, it may be asked, what subjects, topics and activities should be compulsory in ordinary schools and on what grounds? Should arts subjects have

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this status and why? On the next level, which arts subjects and to what extent? Should it be music and/or visual arts and/or drama and bodily movement? This raises the question of the relationship between these subjects and between the individual subject as a school subject and the branch of art on which it is based. This means that fundamental aesthetic problems related to views on art, on music, and so forth, become an aspect of the subject-matter Didactic reflection (Nielsen, 2005). On yet another level it may be asked, what music, what forms of musical activity, and why? (b) Didactic analysis has been emphasized as the essence of the teacher’s planning and preparation of teaching by raising a number of key issues:7 the significance of the content for the student seen in his/her present-day perspective and in his/her future perspective, the structure and essence of the content area as such, the exemplary value of the concrete teaching/learning content, and the accessibility of the content for the student. The combination of these issues grows out of an overarching double perspective, namely, a perspective based on the content itself (the importance of it) and on the student (the importance for him/her) as well as the interrelation between these two perspectives. Moreover, the teacher’s confrontation with these questions when planning presupposes that he or she engages in theory-based reflection and consideration. The interplay between the three main elements of the “triangle of Didaktik” – the content, the student and the teacher – becomes decisive (Künzli, 2000).

Subject-Matter Didaktik Positions Several types of high-level criteria for the selection of teaching/learning content in arts subjects can be identified:8 (1) In the position of basic subject Didaktik, the point of departure is the subject itself (e.g., music) and its structure, extending from an ars to a scientia dimension (music as art, craft and science). Characteristic forms of activity in arts subjects correspond to this continuum.9 (2) In the ethno-Didaktik position, the point of departure is pupils’ everyday experience and criteria arising out of current local culture. It represents a micro-cultural position in post-modern style.10 (3) In critical challenge Didaktik, the point of departure is the great social problems, such as environmental issues, global North-South relations, conditions of democracy, or for that matter terrorism. The position has a macro-cultural, problem-oriented, and inter-disciplinary bias. A theory of social criticism is an anchoring point.11 (4) In existence Didaktik, the point of departure is the fundamental existential conditions and the question and view of what it means to be a human being. The endeavor is towards a unifying conception of general education through a determination of what is generally human and the common core of humanity. The concept of “life world” and expressions of life in symbolic forms (inclusive of the arts) are crucial to the position. Philosophical anthropology and phenomenology may be theoretical bases.12

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Bildung and Bildung Theories The Concept of Bildung The concept of Bildung originated in the second half of the eighteenth century and grew in importance for pedagogic thinking in the beginning of the nineteenth century. It is associated with the current of thought called neo-humanism (Lenzen, 1989). In the concept of the cultured person (der Gebildete) the neo-humanists13 formulated an ideal image of man in clear contrast to philanthropy and its utilitarian rationale of upbringing and education. Neo-humanists’ thinking on the topic of education was not aimed at vocational utility, but at “general Bildung,” which was best achieved, according to neo-humanistic thinking, at a certain distance from daily practical circ*mstances. Key terms are “individuality,” “completeness,” “universality,” and “Mündigkeit.” The idea is that human beings do not have personal individuality when they are born. This is gradually acquired in a process of Bildung that leads to personal freedom. Bildung must be complete in the sense that all of a person’s powers (“Kräfte”), not just single skills, should be cultivated. The attainment of personal individuality means that the powers are developed as an integrated whole. The content of Bildung is based on this aim. It should be universal in the sense that it represents the spiritual structures and values that are necessary for the individual’s complete development. It is thus “general” in the double sense that it has the status and character of something that is both of a general sort and of significance to everyone. The neo-humanists believed that they could find something along these lines realized (i.e., objectified) in antique culture. Bildung is supposed to lead to creation of personal Mündigkeit. Mündigkeit is a concept related to personality and citizenship rooted in the philosophy of the Enlightenment, which can be said to epitomize the pedagogic Bildung thinking of the last 200 years. In a famous formulation Immanuel Kant links enlightenment and Mündigkeit in this way: Enlightenment is man’s release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man’s inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another. Selfincurred is this tutelage when its cause lies not in lack of reason but in lack of resolution and courage to use it without direction from another. (Kant, 1980, p. 85) The intertwining of Bildung and Didaktik appears from a basic pedagogic question formulated by Wolfgang Klafki in accordance with Humboldt, Schleiermacher and others: What content and subject matter must young people come to grips with in order to live a self-competent and reason-directed life in humanity, in mutual recognition and justice, in freedom, in happiness and self-fulfilment? (Klafki 1986, 2000b). This both implies a relation between the two concepts and suggests something about the nature of Bildung. The goal is man’s self-determination and autonomy based on reason, a life in freedom and mutual respect between fellow human beings. Through a process of Bildung, a human being becomes him- or herself in cooperation with others (Selbsterfüllung). Bildung is not a foregone conclusion or something given by others,

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but must be acquired in a personal Bildung process (Selbstbildung) within historical, social, and cultural frameworks. Bildung is the main aim, and educational content (subjects, topics) is the means to achieve this aim. Seen in this light, the arts-oriented subjects are means to achieve Bildung. The content of Bildung is a historically conditioned phenomenon. Artistic forms of expression also change, as does the understanding of their nature and function. Therefore, the arts subjects must continuously be justified, legitimized and be brought up to date as means of achieving Bildung.

Bildung Theories and Didaktik Consequences A Bildung theory is a theoretically based idea and comprehensive view of the main aims of upbringing and general education as well as its main means, building on a notion of human nature and society. Seen from the perspective of Didaktik, a Bildung theory provides a point of departure and a direction for the selection, justification and legitimization of educational content and the ways of dealing with it, even though the content cannot be derived directly from the idea of Bildung. A distinction can be made between main positions of Bildung.14 In material Bildung theories the teaching/learning matter, including the subject-related forms of activity, is central and in itself a criterion for the selection of educational content. In the subject of music, this means education to music rather than through music. Based on an “objectivistic” notion of material Bildung, the goal is to attain as comprehensive an amount of subject-related knowledge as possible, without any more specific criteria for importance (ready knowledge, encyclopedic knowledge). In “classic” material Bildung thinking, the idea is, on the contrary, that cultural objects that have achieved the status of classics within our culture first and foremost have Bildung value (Bildungsgehalt). The idea behind this notion is that such objects (not least objects of art) embody and objectify the essential spiritual structures and values of culture. Therefore, one becomes cultivated (gebildet) through one’s encounter with the works. Current thinking in terms of canons rests on this sort of classic Bildung thinking, even though the underlying theory about the objects’ embodiment of subjective (spiritual) structures is seldom revealed. Because of this, the public and political canon discussion may tend to move in the direction of an objectivistic Bildung position (knowledge of as many works and as much data as possible). This seems to be a state that can be characterized using Adorno’s concept of “half-Bildung” (Halbbildung, Adorno, 1962). In formative Bildung theories, the person going through and becoming formed by the process of Bildung (“formation”) is in focus. The educational content is the means to realize this formation. In the case of “methodological” Bildung, the idea is to acquire methodological knowledge and insight with the aim of being able to apply it in other contexts as well. To use a pedagogic slogan, it is about “learning to learn.” The “functional” Bildung theory is based on an anthropology and a notion of human beings as encompassing a number of general “powers” (“Kräfte”) of a cognitive, bodily and moral nature (e.g., powers of logical thinking or creativity), which are developed through the Bildung process. This view of Bildung is probably the one closest to the neo-humanists’ original Bildung thinking. In the arts subjects, not least in music education, a philosophy in accordance with functional Bildung (in its extreme form

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approaching a therapeutic aim) has played a prominent role as a legitimization strategy as far back as in Ancient Greek thinking (Plato, Aristotle) and has been a powerful thesis ever since (Nolte, 1986; Kraemer, 2004). There has been considerable interest in investigating whether there is empirical evidence to support an effect on upbringing through the arts (especially music) that goes beyond subject-related learning. This interest has been expressed in psychological theory (“transfer”) and has been conducted in experimental research15 as well as in naturalistic teaching/learning research.16 An overall impression is that formative effects of arts education, and transfer from one cognitive dimension to another, are scientifically documented to a lower degree than generally believed and often asserted. According to the theory of categorial Bildung, Bildung is ultimately not a question of either material or formative Bildung, but both. An integration of the two perspectives has been developed by Wolfgang Klafki in his categorial Bildung theory (1963). In a well-known formulation he expresses this double-sided perspective: “Bildung is categorial Bildung in the double sense that a reality has been opened ‘categorially’ to the human being, and that in this way – thanks to the self-gained ‘categorial’ knowledge and experience – he/she has been opened to this reality” (p. 44). Three concepts have been central in the formulation of the categorial Bildung theory. The “elementary” (das Elementare) concerns the object side and the material dimension in the categorial double relation. Something “elementary” signifies important characteristics and aspects of, for example, objects of art and music, structural and stylistic traits and historical conditions of such phenomena. The student’s encounter with elementary aspects of an object area may result in “fundamental” experiences. The “fundamental” (das Fundamentale) thus signifies something essentially meaningful seen in relation to the subject side (the student) in an interplay between the object and the subject. The Bildung process thereby acquires the character of a hermeneutic spiral of understanding, where the horizons of the object and the subject meet and intervene. The fundamental experience of something elementary arises through dealing with phenomena and problems that are “exemplary.” The “exemplary” (das Exemplarische) refers to typical examples that facilitate further understanding of the object area. A good example has an “eye-opening” pedagogic function. There are special Didactic problems with the concept of the elementary. Related to the subject of music, it can be differentiated into four categories (element, simplicity, originality, and essence), which have all had an impact on the determination of content and the conceptualization of general music education. On this basis a phenomenologyoriented theory of art objects’ “multi-spectral universe of meaning” and their “correspondence” with human consciousness has been developed.17 Critically oriented Bildung builds on the view that the said Bildung theories may have a one-sided culture-preserving effect. According to this view, their perspective is to lead into culture and not to change it. A critical-emancipatory Bildung idea has drawn inspiration from a socially and ideologically-critical theory that had considerable influence on educational philosophy and general education in Western democracies starting in the late 1960s. A “Bildung-socialization” with critical potential was contrasted with an “adaptation-socialization,” which, it was claimed, built on the tutelage of man (Hellesnes, 1976). There are important common traits between this line of

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thinking about Bildung on the one hand and the previously discussed critical challenge Didaktik and the critical-constructive Didaktik developed by Klafki on the other. This Didactic position can be seen as a socially critical further development of his categorial Bildung theory. However, the internal connection between these elements in Wolfgang Klafki’s pedagogic thinking does not yet appear to be analytically clarified. Nonetheless, special perspectives may emerge in relation to arts subjects seen in a critical Bildung context, because the art object potentially embodies the articulation, objectification and experience of a utopia and vision that cannot yet be expressed verbally, but which, by aesthetic experience, can bring us in touch with our own and others’ inner potential (Marcuse, 1978). A perspective of aesthetic Mündigkeit, aesthetic Bildung, and aesthetic rationality seems to be outlined. The Bildung positions discussed here constitute a point of departure and a basis for Didactic reflection and deciding. They are seldom directly put into practice in institutionalized general education (e.g., in the individual school subjects) but as trends they are also applicable here. Therefore there are connections between the views of Bildung described here and the previously described basic positions of (subject-matter) Didaktik; for example, between critically oriented Bildung and critical challenge Didaktik. However in concrete form, this will also have to build upon categorial Bildung concepts, which in turn will act as links to basic-subject-related dimensions. The connection between Didaktik and Bildung thinking is therefore constitutive for the concept of Didaktik itself and the Didaktik tradition as a whole, yet the connection is not simple, but rather extremely complex, many-sided and often indirect. The relation is in itself a challenge for Didactic reflection in its own continuous clarification process.

The Concept of Content in Relation to Arts Subjects The Double-Sided Concept of Content The concept of content, understood as the content of teaching and learning, is central to Didactic thinking. However, as a theoretical category, the concept seems only partially clarified.18 In relation to arts subjects, a distinction must be made between two dimensions of content. The teaching/learning can be related to the following: ●

●

phenomena, objects and their characteristics, for example music, paintings, drama, dances of given periods, in given genres and styles, with given characteristics of form and structure, and with given functions, purposes and effects, and subject-related forms of activity (ways of dealing with the media and phenomena in question), for example playing, singing, drawing, dancing, forming, producing, reciting, describing, analyzing, interpreting, reflecting.

In curricula of arts subjects and in course schedules for education programs, content of both types can normally be found, but it can be seen that the content description is heavily weighted on the activity side, for example, in connection with the teaching of young children.19 Both the object and the activity categories may have the characteristics of and function as teaching/learning content. As Didactic categories, both of them are functionally

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determined. If the purpose of a course is that the student gains insight into currents in music after 1950, it may be of lesser importance (not meaning that it is without importance) in terms of content whether this insight is gained by singing, playing, analyzing or composing pieces of music in styles characteristic of the period. The form of activity here has the function of method. The situation is reversed if the goal is to learn to sing, to play an instrument, to analyze or to compose. The form of activity then assumes the status of content. A result of this functionally determined distinction between teaching/learning content and method is that much planning and preparation of teaching could be focussed more clearly by being confronted with the question of to what extent a possible element should have the status of content or the status of method.

Subject-Related Forms of Activity A subject-related form of activity should be understood as a way the student can engage in (be “actively” involved with) the medium and the object area in question. In relation to art subjects a distinction can be made between five forms of activity that are potentially content-oriented:20 Production Reproduction Perception Interpretation

Reflection

create, compose, improvise, paint, shape, produce, write recreate, carry out, perform, recite receive sense impressions and process them so they give musical, artistic, dramatic, poetic meaning analyze and interpret music, art, drama, dance, poetry, and so forth, and as a rule express understanding and interpretation in another medium than the medium analyzed (most often verbal) put into perspective, consider, investigate music, pictures, drama, dance, poetry etc. in historical, sociological, psychological and other contexts

A few comments: (1) The category “reproduction” is connected in particular to forms of art whose medium is temporal (e.g., music), and where the object produced is contained in a form of notation (e.g., a score) as a basis for the subsequent realization of the object (the sounding work of music). Production and reproduction are in this case two different but equally important processes, even though they can also meld together (e.g., in improvisation). There is a corresponding situation for poetry reproduced in spoken language (recitation), and for works of drama (re-production of plays, musicals), including some types of bodily movement (e.g., ballet). (2) Each of the five forms of activity comprises several sub-functions. They are also mutually connected. For example, all good reproduction of music and drama is also creative and interpretive, and almost unthinkable without simultaneous perceptual activity. Taken on its own, the interpretation category is meant as analytical interpretation in accordance with hermeneutic tradition (most often verbal,

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but other trans-medial interpretations are also possible). Finally, there is no hardand-fast boundary between verbal analytic interpretation and reflective activity. (3) The five areas of activity viewed as a whole encompass both the ars and scientia dimensions in arts subjects as well as the connections between them. They can thus utilize the entire basis of the basic subject (the art, the craft and the science aspects). (4) Seen in a broader perspective, the five forms of activity are not attached to artistic phenomena alone. From a general Bildung point of view the activities may function as approaches to all aspects of our world and life that we can sense, experience, interpret, understand, imitate, recreate, think about and consider in a critically reflective way. In this sense the forms of activity constitute a system of general Bildung categories, which can contribute to establishing connection and equality between artistic activity and the activities of other subjects and to justify arts subjects as means to achieve general Bildung.

Positions, Conceptions and Development Trends of Didaktik in General Music Education Over the last 50 years several specific positions, conceptions and development trends of Didaktik have found expression in general music education (music as school subject). This is also true of other arts subjects, but will be exemplified here on the basis of music. Especially after 1970, new conceptions can be observed.

Conceptions and Positions A music Didaktik “conception” should be understood as a reasonably coherent and justified combination of emphases with regard to the musical content, the forms of activity, the use of media and the working methods. As a rule, conceptions have a normative basis, which in the course of a long tradition of practice has a tendency to become implicit, whereas in connection with newly developed conceptions, it will often assume a more explicit form. Often a music Didaktik conception is argued for polemically in opposition to other conceptions, but different conceptions can also be combined in practical music teaching and learning, which may result in the blurring of the contours of the individual points of departure. This means that a music Didaktik conception in some cases may be noticeable without appearing unadulterated. In other cases, it is expressed in a relatively pure form as a “method concept.” A music Didaktik “position” should be understood as something more general. It can bring together several conceptions and sub-trends and contribute to the understanding of their common purpose, justification and theoretical basis. Despite these efforts toward defining the two concepts it is not an easy task to achieve a coherent and detailed understanding and overview, because different criteria for systematizing meld together. This becomes apparent through a critical reading of

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research and presentations of overviews, for example, Schmidt (1986), Gruhn (1993), Helmholz (1995), Hanken and Johansen (1998), Nielsen (1998), Helms, Schneider, & Welder (2005), Jank (2005). Combining historical and systematic criteria it seems possible to isolate the following categories: (1) “Music as a singing subject” denotes a traditional version of the general school subject (from the beginning of the nineteenth century), whose designation in most European countries was only changed from “singing” to “music” after 1950. It is possible to distinguish between three sub-positions, which may be structured into partially independent conceptions, but may also be combined. (a) The songs that are sung constitute the main content due to their value as cultural objects and their function in introducing pupils to culture and community. (b) The songs are a means to learn about and be introduced to musical structure in a general sense. To a large extent this seems to be the case in the transition of the Kodály conception from Hungarian national culture to functioning as a method concept in Western countries’ music education. (c) The singing (or vocal) activity itself is the main content for physiological (voice development), psychological (expression of oneself) and socio-psychological (together with others) reasons.21 (2) “Music as a ‘musisch’ subject” is an aspect of German reform pedagogy and is based on the Ancient Greek concept of “musiké” (the integration of music, poetry, and bodily movement). It may therefore draw other forms of art into music teaching and learning. It is based on formative Bildung thinking, including a notion of the formative effect of music on human “creative powers.” A philosophical point of departure is an anthropological notion of the originally human, which today, according to the position, can be found mainly in the child and in ethnic communities. A critical relation to modern Western civilization may be the result. Pedagogic slogans include “from the child” (“vom Kinde aus”), “the creating child” (“das schaffende Kind”), and the aim of “preserving the child in us.” The musisch position played a major role in general music education in Germany and Scandinavia throughout most of the twentieth century and even gave impetus to the creation of schools with distinct musisch profiles. Many characteristics of the position can, for example, be found in the Carl Orff conception, at least in its original form in Germany and Austria.22 (3) “Music as a matter-of-music subject” arose as a position specifically focused on “music” as opposed to “musisch” (cf. Adorno, 1956) and was expressed comprehensively in influential books by Michael Alt (1973) and Heinz Antholz (1976). The position is characterized by being based on material and categorial Bildung and comprising both scientia- and ars-oriented activities, but in more radical forms it may become of a one-sided scientia-nature and even become marked by science propaedeutics (cf. Eggebrecht, 1972; Günther & Kaiser, 1982; Richter, 1980). In all cases some form of scientia-based content and activity is included, and the analysis of music is a main category of content. A specific conception in this context is the so-called “Didactic interpretation” (Helms, Schneider, & Weber, 2005) developed theoretically and practically by K. H. Ehrenforth (1971) and Christoph Richter (1976) on the basis of hermeneutic theory.

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(4) “Music as a social subject” generally has an important basis in critical social science theory and specifically in music sociology as a sub-discipline of musicology. It is therefore primarily scientia-oriented, but based on a political and social engagement it also develops in the direction of an ars-orientation. The position thus becomes divided, according to Nielsen (1998), into an ideology-critical relation to market-governed popular music and an ethno-Didactic acceptance of this same music. This apparent paradox does not yet seem to have been thoroughly researched. A concrete conception that articulates several aspects of the position can be found in the textbook system Musik aktuell (Breckoff et al., 1974), which includes an alternative songbook (Liedermagazin, 1976) and a variety of supplementary teaching materials on jazz, film music, music from ethnic cultures and other topics (cf. Nielsen, 1998, pp. 227–230). (5) Music as “integrative music education” or as part of “poly-aesthetic education” represents a markedly interdisciplinary, cross-aesthetic position, which includes several branches of art, mainly in their avant-garde forms of expression. As a concrete conception it is described as multi-dimensional and integrative from several points of view, seeing that the content of the conception is of a multi-medial, interdisciplinary, tradition-integrative, intercultural and socio-communicative nature (Roscher, 1976, 1983–1984). Seen in relation to the main positions of subject-matter Didaktik, the concept combines a critical challenge Didactic and an existence Didactic foundation. It is concerned with the education and Bildung of human beings as sensing, perceiving, interpreting, reflecting and creating creatures in a modern world that, according to the underlying philosophy, tends to corrupt basic conditions for human development, self-expression and self-worth. (6) “Music as a sound subject” can in general be seen as an attempt to create a radical new-orientation of the subject of music. A point of departure is the notion that music is the school’s sound subject par excellence. The potential content of the subject is therefore made up of everything that can be heard (Abel-Struth, 1985). Here, too, responsibility to our auditory sensuousness and sensibility, based on the Greek concept of aisthesis, is crucial (Hentig, 1969, 1985). Musical phenomena make up only part of our total sound world. Still, there is a tendency towards modern (avant-garde) music (and in some contexts, rock music), with its experimental approach to sound and timbre, and alternative structural principles such as “open form,” aleatoric procedures and improvisation, becoming a cornerstone in terms of content. An impression of the position in this respect can be gained by studying the series of publications Rote Reihe from Universal Edition in Vienna, with parallel publications in English. In the English-speaking world, publications by Paynter and Aston (1970) and R. Murray Schafer (1969) are examples of the same position. This suggests its international reach. A specific conception based on a program for auditory perceptual education (auditive Wahrnehmungserziehung) is the ambitious research, development, and textbook project Sequenzen (Frisius, Fuchs, Günther, Gundlach, & Küntzel, 1972–1976) which, perhaps due to its very high level of ambition, was never concluded. Nevertheless, it deserves respect as a thoroughly reflected manifestation of music Didaktik (cf. Nielsen, 1998, pp. 259–270).

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In addition to these positions, it should be mentioned that music as a general school subject also can be said to manifest itself as a subject with a content of instrument playing, bodily movement, and most recently, information and music technology. Especially, the instrumental content dimension (Klassenmusizieren) tends now to be of considerable importance (cf. Jank, 2005).

Development Trends Two main development trends in music Didaktik, which seem to be in contrast to one another, can be derived from the above discussion: (1) the expansion of content, as the most obvious trait, and (2) concentration on something very basic. (1) The expansion of content has taken place along several tracks: (a) An object track: from singing/songs to music to more different music to sound. This track is represented by the positions of music as “singing subject,” as “matter-of-music” and as “sound subject.” (b) A perspective track: from singing/music/sound to such phenomena in an interdisciplinary, inter-artistic and social perspective as well. This track is represented by music as “musisch,” as “integrative music education,” and as a “social subject.” (c) An activity track: from one main form of activity to a range of activities. The music subject’s content-related activity profile has developed from singing as the dominant activity to include playing instruments, improvisation and composition, listening with musical analysis, as well as interpretation of and reflection on music in historical, social, and other perspectives. (2) Music as a musisch subject represents on the one hand, an expansion of content characterized by cross-disciplinarity, but on the other hand, still comprises a vision of something original and basic. A search for “origins” seems to be a trend in the twentieth century, which in both educational and artistic contexts has manifested itself in efforts to synthesize something original in the culture and in ourselves (the child). Think, for example, of the Cobra movement in painting. The stylistic similarity between a child’s drawing, a painting of Asger Jorn, and a mask from New Guinea can be striking. In the area of music education we may mention both the Carl Orff conception, drawing inspiration from early European polyphony, and “rhythmic” music education, building on jazz and its ethnic roots. However different these examples of tendencies are in the choice of musical material and style, they meet in a mutual vision of the creative, the original, the spontaneous, the free, the anti-conforming, and playing human being. Correspondingly it may be said in reference to the sound conception, that on the one hand it represents an enormous expansion of content. On the other hand, it is also an expression of a preoccupation with the basic foundation of all music: sound and its compoundedness, the timbre. It may be seen as a fascination for sounds as raw material, which can be sensed, perceived, studied, analyzed, experimented with, composed

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and functionalized in innumerable ways. It is thought-provoking that a corresponding trend can be observed in the visual arts in a very basic preoccupation with elements such as color, shape, surface, space, and material. The trends towards expansion and concentration do not, therefore, necessarily stand in contrast to one another. One may imply the other. Seen as a whole, it is characteristic that all of the positions and conceptions discussed here can be found in actual music education, but possibly mutually intertwined. This demonstrates that we are living in a multi-positional and polyvalent time seen from the perspective of music Didaktik.

Final Comment on the Didaktik of Arts Subjects as a Field of Theory and Research As has been shown, subject-matter Didaktik (the Didaktik of arts subjects) as an area of theory and research based on Bildung theory is in a multifaceted field of tension. This is true first of all in the field of relation between subject and pedagogy. As an independent science, the Didaktik of a subject must grasp and delve into both on an equal footing in order to define and develop its own domain. If it leans too heavily toward the subject, the result may be a narrow focus lacking a pedagogic perspective, and subject-matter Didaktik will approach the science of the basic subject. If, on the contrary, it is based too heavily on general pedagogy and Didaktik, the result may be pedagogic thinking that lacks content, and from which the specific subject’s Didaktik and Bildung perspective disappear. Didaktik is also a field of tension between theory and practice. This applies in a double sense, in relation to both the pedagogic aspect and the subject-related aspect. In relation to pedagogy, the Didaktik of a subject is a science both on and for pedagogic practice. In order to maintain this double-sidedness without confusing one side with the other, it may be appropriate to distinguish between “didactology” focused on theory and science and “didactics” oriented toward practice as dimensions in the field of Didaktik. In terms of subject-related relations, the Didaktik of an arts subject must be based on a multidimensional foundation that covers the practical, artistic, and craft aspects of the subject as well as its theoretical and scientific aspects, in other words, its ars and its scientia dimensions. Subject-matter Didaktik (the Didaktik of arts subjects) is thus a subject-related pedagogic theory and research field of an interdisciplinary, integrative and double-functional nature.

Notes 1. This means that some Didaktik positions are not considered, for example Didaktik based on systemic and constructivistic thinking, or models rooted in information theory and cybernetics. Nevertheless, it is the author’s opinion that, in continental European pedagogy, the connection of Didaktik with Bildung theoretical traditions is of a more fundamental character than sometimes presumed by reformist Didactic approaches. See Peterssen (2001) and Jank and Meyer (2002).

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2. Compare Gundem and Hopmann (1998); Westbury (1998); Westbury, Hopmann, and Riquarts (2000). 3. See the influential book by Robinsohn (1967), Bildungsreform als Revision des Curriculum and the Handbuch der Curriculumforschung (Hameyer, Frey, & Haft, 1983), which took status of the situation. In the field of music, see Ettl (1969) as an early example of a Robinsohn-inspired music education research strategy; see also Abel-Struth (1985), Gieseler (1978, 1986), Gruhn (1993), and Helms, Schneider, and Weber (2005). 4. Compare Peterssen, “Didaktik is not just Didaktik!” (2001, chap. 1). 5. Compare the very wide definition of Didaktik in Dolch (1965). 6. Concerning the relationship between general Didaktik and subject-matter Didaktik, see also Peterssen (2001). Concerning the “field of relations” as “co-ordinate” or of an “integrative” nature, see Nielsen (1998, 2005). 7. Klafki (1962, 1963, 1980, 2000a); compare Adl-Amini (1986), Hopmann (2000). 8. Compare Nielsen (1998). 9. The concept of basic subject was originally identical with the scientific subject in the science-oriented curriculum that became an international trend after 1960. See Bruner (1960, 1966), Phenix (1962, 1964), Robinsohn (1967), Wilhelm (1969). With regard to music education, see Eggebrecht (1972, 1980), Richter (1980), Günther and Kaiser (1982), Gruhn (1993). 10. On a general level, compare Ziehe and Stubenrauch (1982) and Giddens (1991). Concerning the inclusion of “popular” culture alongside or instead of “fine culture,” see Schütz (1995) with bibliography. Concerning the student-oriented aspects (Schülerorientierung), see Günther, Ott, and Ritzel (1982, 1983). The position has certain critical perspectives in common with the third position. 11. Compare Schnack (1993, 1995). In Klafki’s “critical-constructive” Didaktik (Klafki, 1985, 1995a, 1995b, 1996, 1998a, 1998b), the position is translated into a number of “key issues, typical of the epoch, regarding our cultural, social, political and individual existence” (1995b, p. 12). Concerning aesthetic education and “aesthetic rationality” from this point of view, see Seel (1985), Otto (1991, 1998, 2000), Kaiser (1995), Rolle and Vogt (1995). See also Hentig (1969, 1985, 1996). An example of a journal of research in music education with a critical profile is the electronic ZfKM. 12. Key figures in philosophical anthropology are Max Scheler, Helmuth Plesner, Otto Bollnow, Arnold Gehlen, K.E. Løgstrup. Concerning symbolic forms, see Cassirer (1944). Concerning the position as articulated in music education, see Schneider (1987, 1994), Ehrenforth (1981, 1986, 1987), Richter (1975, 1976, 1993a, 1993b). A thorough analysis of the “life world” as related to music education, and “musical-aesthetic experience” as a core concept, has been conducted by Vogt (2001). 13. A key figure was W. von Humboldt (1767–1835); see Lüth (2000). 14. Compare Klafki (1963) and later works by Klafki. With regard to the subject of music seen in light of Bildung theory, see Musik und Bildung 1984(4), Musik und Bildung 1999(6), Helms, Schneider, and Weber (1994), Abel-Struth (1985), Kaiser (1998), Nielsen (1998), Kraemer (2004), and Jank (2005). 15. See overview in The Journal of Aesthetic Education, 34(3–4) (2000). 16. For example, Bastian (2000, 2001); see discussion in Gembris, Kraemer, and Maas (2001). 17. See Nielsen (1998, 2006). 18. Compare Meyer (1986), Kaiser and Nolte (1989), Jank and Meyer (2002), Kraemer (2004). 19. See Nolte (1975, 1982) for extensive collections of curricula for the subject of music in German schools, with commentary. 20. Compare Alt (1969, 1973; here the term “functional field,” Funktionsfeld, is used); Küntzel (1975); Nolte (1982); Venus (1984); Gundlach (1984); Kaiser and Nolte (1989), Nielsen (1998, 2000); Kraemer (2004). 21. For an historical account of music as a singing subject see Abel-Struth (1985), and Kraemer (2004) for various aims and criteria for the selection of songs. For an argumentation for singing rooted in anthropology and existence-Didaktik, see Klusen (1989). 22. For a short introduction see Helms, Schneider, and Weber (2005). For a general discussion, see AbelStruth (1985, index musisch …), and for historical presentations, see Gruhn (1993) and Ehrenforth (2005). A special aspect of the position is its ideological exploitation during the 1933–45 period in Germany (Günther 1967, 1986), which may cause a dissociation from the very concept of musisch in Germany (Jank 2005).

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Schafer, R. M. (1969). The new soundscape: A handbook for the modern music teacher. London: Universal Edition. Schmidt, H.-C. (Ed.). (1986). Geschichte der Musikpädagogik. Handbuch der Musikpädagogik, Band 1 [The history of music education. Handbook of music pedagogy, Vol. 1]. Kassel: Bärenreiter. Schnack, K. (1993). Sammenlignende fa*gdidaktik [Comparative subject-matter Didaktik]. In K. Schnack (Ed.), fa*gdidaktik og almendidaktik [Subject-matter and general Didaktik] (pp. 5–17). Copenhagen: Danmarks Lærerhøjskole [The Royal Danish School of Educational Studies]. Schnack, K. (1995). The didactics of challenge. In S. Hopmann & K. Riquarts (Eds.), Didaktik and/or Curriculum (pp. 407–416). Kiel: Institut für die Pädagogik der Naturwissenschaften an der Universität Kiel. Schneider, R. (Ed.). (1987). Anthropologie der Musik und der Musikerziehung [The anthropology of music and music education]. ( Musik im Diskurs, Vol. 4). Regensburg: Bosse. Schneider, R. (1994). Anthropologie der Musik [The anthropology of music]. In Helms, Schneider, & Weber. Sachteil (pp. 14–15). Schulz, W. (1970). Aufgaben der Didaktik. Eine Darstellung aus lehrtheoretischer Sicht [The objects of Didaktik. A presentation from a teaching theorical perspective]. In D. C. Kochan (Ed.), Allgemeine Didaktik. Fachdidaktik. Fachwissenschaft [General Didaktik. Subject-matter Didaktik. Science] (pp. 403–440). Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Schütz, V. (1995). Didaktik der Pop/Rockmusik. Begründungsaspekte [The Didaktik of pop/rock music. Aspects of rationale]. In S. Helms, R. Schneider, & R. Weber (Eds.), Kompendium der Musikpädagogik [Compendium of music pedagogy] (pp. 262–280). Kassel: Gustav Bosse Verlag. Seel, M. (1985). Die Kunst der Entzweiung. Zum Begriff der ästhetischen Rationalität [The art of ambiguity. On the concept of aesthetic rationality]. Frankfurt a.M.: Suhrkamp. Thiersch, H. (1983). Geisteswissenschaftliche Pädagogik [Humanities-oriented pedagogy]. In D. Lenzen (Ed.), Enzyklopädie Erziehungswissenschaft (Vol. 1, pp. 81–100). Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta. Venus, D. (1984). Unterweisung im Musikhören [Teaching in music listening] (2nd ed.). Ratingen: Henn. Vogt, J. (2001). Der schwankende Boden der Lebenswelt. Phänomenologische Musikpädagogik zwischen Handlungstheorie und Ästhetik [The rolling grounds of the life world. Phenemological music education between action theory and aesthetics]. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Westbury, I. (1998). Didaktik and Curriculum Studies. In B. B. Gundem & S. Hopmann (Eds.), Didaktik and/or Curriculum: An international dialogue (pp. 47–48). New York: Peter Lang. Westbury, I., Hopmann. S., & Riquarts, K. (Eds.). (2000). Teaching as a reflective practice: The German Didaktik tradition. Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum. Wilhelm, T. (1969). Theorie der Schule. Hauptschule und Gymnasium im Zeitalter der Wissenschaften [The theory of school. Primary and secondary school in the era of science] (2nd ed.). Stuttgart: Metzlersche Verlagsanstalt. Ziehe, T., & Stubenrauch, H. (1982). Plädoyer für ungewöhnliches Lernen. Ideen zur Jugendsituation [A plea for unusual learning. Ideas on the situation of youth]. Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag. ZfKM Zeitschrift für kritische Musikpädagogik. http://home.arcor.de/zf/zfkm/home.html

18 ARTS INTEGRATION IN THE CURRICULUM: A REVIEW OF RESEARCH AND IMPLICATIONS FOR TEACHING AND LEARNING Joan Russell* and Michalinos Zembylas† *McGill University, Canada; † University of Cyprus, Cyprus/Michigan State University, U.S.A.

Given a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces and told to put them together, no doubt we would ask to see the picture they make. It is the picture, after all, that gives meaning to the puzzle and assures us that the pieces fit together, that none are missing and that there are no extras. Without the picture, we probably wouldn’t want to bother with the puzzle. … To students, the typical curriculum presents an endless array of facts and skills that are unconnected, fragmented, and disjointed. That they might be connected or lead to some whole picture is a matter that must be taken on faith by young people. (Beane, 1991, p. 9) The idea of the integrated curriculum recurs from time to time, in tandem with other social progressive movements (Beane, 1997), and the notion that curriculum should be integrated has regained much popularity among educators in recent years (Parsons, 2004). Proponents of the integrated curriculum argue that an integrated approach promotes holistic education – unity rather than separation and fragmentation (Wineberg & Grossman, 2000) – and cognitive gain (e.g., Efland, 2002; Mansilla, 2005). In addition, as Parsons (2004) argues, recent societal changes, changes in the contemporary art world, the faster pace of life, and the enormous growth of technology and visual communication require more information – and its critique – from many different sources. From these perspectives, an integrated curriculum seems to make sense. The concept of integration is by no means new. In Western writings, references to integration can be traced back as far as Plato, and later to Rousseau and Dewey. More recently, the concept has appeared in constructivist approaches in teaching and learning (Chrysostomou, 2004). In the last two decades, there has been a renewed interest in implementing integration, and numerous debates, are taking place with respect to the value and effectiveness of integrated curricula (Parsons, 2004; Wineberg & Grossman, 2000). National curriculum reform efforts (e.g., in science, mathematics, 287 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 287–302. © 2007 Springer.

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language arts) in the United States, Canada, Europe, and Australia are currently stressing the need to make cross-curricular connections.1 But what happens with arts integration? Are arts integrated in the curriculum with the same enthusiasm and commitment as other subjects? What does research tell us about the value and effectiveness of arts-integrated programs? What are the indicators of “value” and “effectiveness” for arts-integrated programs and how are these terms defined? How is success measured? How should success be measured? At the heart of these questions lie philosophical issues: the nature and value of arts in education. That is, does arts integration require that arts be defined as disciplines – an idea that emphasizes the intrinsic values of art in education – or simply as “handmaidens” – an idea that focuses on the instrumental values of arts in education? (Bresler, 1995; Brewer, 2002; Parsons, 2004; Winner & Hetland, 2000). Although it is beyond the scope of this chapter to engage in a detailed account of the discourse around these tensions, we wonder whether using the terms “disciplines” and “handmaidens” is too limiting. Horowitz and Webb-Dempsey (2002) describe the relationship of arts and other learning as “parallel, symbiotic, interactive or multi-layered” (p. 100, italics added). We believe these kinds of relationships of arts and other learning are particularly important in defining arts integration in school curricula. Therefore, if we stop thinking in dualisms and move beyond the either (disciplines)/or (handmaidens) dichotomy, we may begin to examine arts integration on a totally different level of thinking – that is, as multilayered and symbiotic with other learning. This chapter is divided into three parts. First, we present some attributions of the meaning and value of arts integration, and some of the arguments surrounding arts integration. Then, we critically review selected large-scale programs and small-scale arts-integration initiatives and we consider some pedagogical, methodological, and political issues of arts integration. We conclude that a closer examination of the role of arts integration in the curriculum and its attendant research is needed, and more sophisticated and reliable ways of documenting student growth must be developed.

The Meaning(s) and Value of Arts Integration It has been argued that the boundaries among disciplines and subject areas are artificial and limit students’ access to broader meanings in life (Beane, 1997; Doll, 1993). Disciplinary curricula are associated with current practices that place a high value on efficiency, behavioral objectives, and high-stakes achievement tests (Parsons, 2004). Whereas rigid boundaries inhibit students’ proper preparation for participation in a democratic society (Dewey, 1916; Parsons, 2004), “soft” (Detels, 1999) or “porous” (Bresler, 2003) boundaries invite cross-fertilization, and lead to new ideas and perspectives (Russell, 2006). Beane and Brodhagen (1996) suggest that curriculum integration has the potential to offer the challenging curriculum, the higher standards, and the world-class education that is often talked about, but rarely experienced. At the most basic level, it is hard to define integration, because integration “can mean different things in terms of contents, resources, structures, and pedagogies to different people” (Bresler, 1995, p. 31). This ambiguity is evident in the sheer number

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of terms used in the literature on integration; many of these terms are used synonymously and this adds to the confusion. Other terms one encounters include cross-disciplinary, interdisciplinary, infused, thematic, trans-disciplinary, multidisciplinary, holistic, and blended (see Bresler, 1995). Similarly, various terms are used in the context of integrating arts in the curriculum. Terms such as arts integration, arts-infused curriculum, arts-centered curriculum, and arts-across-the-curriculum, are used to describe the concept of the arts as an integral part of the whole curriculum, while other terms identify specific programs (e.g., Learning Through The Arts™, and Artists-in-Residence). A more precise definition of arts integration is “the use of two or more disciplines in ways that are mutually reinforcing, often demonstrating an underlying unity” (The Consortium of National Arts Education Organizations, 1994, p. 13). In other words, arts integration involves the combination to some degree, or the connections between two or more of the traditional disciplines or subjects. For instance, Joan uses antislavery songs to do two things: to open up discussion about slavery as a moral issue, and to talk about how the songs might be performed in order that their underlying “affect” (sorrow, resistance, defiance) might be conveyed most effectively. Michalinos integrates poetry and fish printing with science to highlight the power of poetry and art to stimulate observation, imagination, and emotion. These two examples from our own experiences indicate how arts integration differs from arts as the study of a disscipline. For this chapter we find “arts integration” a useful conceptual term to refer to activities that strive to infuse the arts across school disciplines.

Arguments For and Against Arts Integration The historical roots of arts integration in western education can be traced to the ideals of progressive education at the beginning of the twentieth century (Beane, 1997; Bresler, 1995; Dewey, 1934; Parsons, 2004). Dewey’s (1934) emphasis on aesthetic experience and the importance of holistic learning encouraged arts educators to begin exploring interrelations with other subject areas (Bresler, 2003). Efland (1990) pointed out that in the 1960s there was a move to conceive arts from a discipline-centered perspective, but arts integration gained attention in the 1970s, a period during which the arts and artistic ways of knowing and experiencing acquired a more legitimate status. As a result, new pedagogies focused on the value of students’ explorations and experiences and a fusion between arts and other subject matter areas was promoted. The 1980s and 1990s witnessed a revival of the discussions about integrative work in education (see Eisner, 1985). During this time, Gardner’s (1983) multiple intelligences theory provided research-based evidence for the claim that human intelligence is multi-faceted, multi-modal and brought the voice of developmental psychology to the discourse on arts integration. Arguments for and against arts integration abound. On the one hand, it is argued that the integration of arts in the curriculum offers students and teachers learning experiences that are intellectually and emotionally stimulating (Barrett, McCoy, & Veblen, 1997; Burton, Horowitz, & Abeles, 1999; Chrysostomou, 2004; Deasey, 2002; Goldberg, 2001; Mansilla, 2005; Patteson, 2002; Veblen & Elliott, 2000). It is also

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maintained that arts integration can help students learn to think more holistically, and thus contributes to the development of connected ways of knowing (Mason, 1996). In light of findings and theories from cognitive science that describe learning as situated, socially-constructed, and culturally mediated processes of making meaning (Efland, 2002; Freedman, 2003), it is argued that integrated learning promotes learning and creativity (Marshall, 2005). These arguments validate arts integration because integration is essentially about making connections among things. Finally, it is suggested that arts-integrated curricula promote socially relevant democratic education, because the issues involved transcend disciplinary boundaries and engage students in selfreflection and active inquiry (Parsons, 2004). On the other hand, there are serious concerns about the benefits and effectiveness of an arts-integrated curriculum, and the lack of strong empirical research to support the belief that arts-integrated curricula are actually effective in terms of student achievement. In their evaluation of the impact of arts in education, Hetland and Winner (2000) concluded that while arts-integrated approaches to teaching academic subjects sometimes led to improvement in an academic subject, the improvement was not significant when compared with a traditional approach to teaching the same subject. Hetland and Winner pointed out the danger in expecting that arts integration will cause academic improvement: if improvement does not result, integration will be blamed. Winner (2003) also questioned sweeping claims made on behalf of arts integration proponents. Finally, other concerns about the benefits and effectiveness of an arts-integrated curriculum include teachers’ complaints that integration adds to their already overloaded curriculum, and their apprehensions about meeting curriculum requirements (e.g., Horowitz, 2004). Artists’ concerns include fears that integrating the arts across the curriculum undermines the disciplinary understanding and experience of an art, and could lead to the disappearance of arts specialists in schools (e.g., Veblen & Elliott, 2000). A dichotomous view – arts for arts sake vs. arts integration – assumes that schools must choose one approach or the other. As some scholars argue, integrated curricula may be related to political and business interests and administrative policies rather than student learning (Beane, 1997; Brewer, 2002; Efland, 1990; Gee, 2003, 2004). According to these views, the instrumental drive of an integrated approach is said to diminish the academic integrity of arts as distinct disciplines. For example, in his review of literature on arts-integrated curricula, Brewer (2002) concluded that integrated approaches “have had a major and not altogether positive impact on our schools and on educational policy” (p. 31). In our view, this conclusion needs to be considered with caution, because Brewer does not offer evidence to justify his claim. It is interesting to note that although advocates for arts integration abound, empirical studies of the effectiveness and impact of integration have not received much critical attention (Bresler, 2003). Indeed, there are difficulties associated with collecting data that capture and show repeatedly what learning looks like and what kinds of learning are taking place, because learning in an arts-integrated environment looks qualitatively different from the ways in which learning looks in other models of curriculum (e.g., Berghoff, 2005; Borgmann, 2005). Thus, research on arts integration should examine the impact of arts-integrated programs across many factors and not focus solely on test results in distinct subject matter areas.

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Review of Research Selection of Studies for Review We conducted a search for studies that explore the implementation and evaluation of arts-integration efforts and the implications of these efforts for teaching and learning. The inclusion criteria that were used for this review were as follows: English language, empirical studies published or presented in conferences between 2000 and 2005, focusing on integration of arts with other subject matter. The relevant literature was located by electronic searches of the Educational Resources Information Center (ERIC), telephone conversations with researchers, request for information about current research from the arts and learning listserve, online journals (e.g., Arts Education Policy Review, International Journal of Education and the Arts), and keyword searches via internet search engines for research and programs in arts integration. We point out that this is not a comprehensive research review, but rather a review of selected examples of two types: large-scale arts-integrated programs and small-scale arts initiatives and their evaluations. We conducted the analysis for this review by critically reading the selected reports. To facilitate this analysis, we used the following guiding questions: ● ● ● ● ●

Who conducted the research? What was the research focus and what methods were used? What were the findings? Were the obstacles and disadvantages of arts integration clearly mentioned? What do these studies contribute to the discourse on arts integration?

Overview and Evaluation of three Large-Scale Arts-Integrated Programs In this section we present a brief description and critical analysis of three large-scale programs, selected to illustrate a variety of approaches and structures: the North Carolina A Schools Program, Learning Through the Arts (LTTA™), and Chicago Arts Partnerships in Education (CAPE). Then, we present briefly the reported findings of the evaluations for these programs. The North Carolina A1 Schools Program.2 The North Carolina A Schools Program is a comprehensive, statewide, PreK-12, whole school reform initiative that implements the North Carolina Standard Course of Study through interdisciplinary thematic units, combined with arts integration. The program espouses hands-on, experiential learning. Every child is to have drama, dance, music, and visual arts at least once a week. Ongoing professional development includes school-based workshops, demonstration teaching, and residential summer A Institutes. A schools work to develop partnerships with parents, cultural resources in the area, local colleges and universities, and the media. In their evaluation of the NC A Schools Program, Wilson, Corbett, and Noblit (2001) reported that state scores within A Program Schools matched scores in other (nonA schools) North Carolina Schools. In their report they also emphasized that different kinds of assessment are needed to capture creative and higher order skills supported by the program. For example, they described heightened engagement and

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enthusiasm in arts-integrated environments, mentioning that students and teachers alike reported a growth in enjoyment for school and learning. On the other hand, Groves, Gerstl-Pepin, Patterson, Cozart, and McKinney (2001) reported that the A Program Schools faced serious challenges such as inadequate funding, time constraints, personnel turnover, and state demands for high-stakes testing and accountability. Learning Through The Arts™ (LTTA).3 Learning Through The Arts (LTTA) is a Canadian initiative of the Royal Conservatory of Music, Toronto, self-described as “a comprehensive public school improvement program.” LTTA provides instructional materials, ongoing program coordination, program evaluation, and trained artistteachers who collaborate with generalist teachers in the design of lessons. LTTA teachers teach math, science, geography, and language curriculum through LTTAapproved units of study that incorporate performing and visual arts into the learning process. Independent researchers (Upitis, Smithrim, Patteson, & Meban, 2001; Upitis & Smithrim, 2003) studied the impact of the LTTA program in partner schools across Canada. The sample included 6,675 students from Grades 1 through 6, from LTTA schools and two types of control schools. Evaluation focused on students’ attitudes, habits and achievements, teachers’ beliefs and practices, administrators hiring and budget practices, parents’ attitudes towards the arts and artists’ beliefs and practices. On most measures of mathematics and language, no significant differences were found between the Grade 6 students in the LTTA schools and students in the two types of control schools. The researchers concluded that involvement in the arts for the students in the LTTA schools did not come at the expense of achievement in mathematics and language. The study also reported noticeable improvements in test scores in other basic subjects. Students, teachers, parents, artists, and administrators mentioned the emotional, physical, cognitive, and social benefits of learning in and through the arts. Ninety percent of parents, regardless of school type, believed that the arts motivated their children to learn. Participating artists reported that they observed a wide variety of benefits to students engaged in the arts, including the development of arts skills, exploration of curriculum topics through the arts, and the laying of a foundation for a lifelong love of the arts. Chicago Arts Partnerships in Education (CAPE).4 The CAPE, formed in the early 1990s as a school improvement initiative, aimed to forge a clear connection between arts learning and the rest of the curriculum. The program entails long-term partnerships among Chicago public schools, professional arts organizations, and community organizations, and receives support from private, community, state and business collaborations, and foundations. A feature of the program is ongoing participation of classroom teachers and arts teachers in planning the role of the arts and visiting artists in CAPE schools. Waldorf (2002) explored the work of professional artists involved in classroom partnerships with teachers in the CAPE, while DeMoss and Morris (2002) examined students’ cognitive processes when engaging in arts-integrated instruction. The evaluation methods used included surveys, observations and interviews, focus groups, and student writing. DeMoss and Morris (2002) reported six desirable characteristics

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of arts-integrated programs: (1) Clear activities, expectations, and outcomes; (2) student work habits; (3) equal participation, connected instruction; (4) content integrity; (5) applied arts concepts; and (6) democratic inclusion. Their analysis of student interviews revealed that arts-integrated environments affected student learning by broadening learning communities, enhancing students’ motivation to learn, enriching students’ written analytic interpretations, developing affective connections in their writing, and helping the students engage subject content. According to Horowitz (2004), the research on CAPE suggests that arts-integrated teaching has the potential to develop many typically unmeasured facets of student development; however, it is not clear how the cognitive processes gained through arts-integrated experiences fit within a larger picture of student academic and personal development.

Overview and Evaluation of Selected Small-Scale Studies It is apparent that arts integration occurs beyond the scope of the large-scale partnership programs that have gained a great deal of national and international attention. Imaginative teachers have always integrated arts with other subject areas; their voices are quiet, and their efforts are not always documented or evaluated.5 Our (Michalinos’ and Joan’s) pre-service student teachers return from their field experiences from time to time, singing the praises of a cooperating teacher who draws on artistic ways of knowing to engage students more fully either to promote achievement in the standard curriculum or to promote socialization goals. We sometimes find their stories in the extensive literature that advocates for arts integration, or describes what teachers and students are actually doing, or presents units of instruction for teachers to implement or build on (see, e.g., Perkins, 1989). There is a wealth of material in this vein. We classified the small-scale research roughly into two categories: studies that focused on K-12 students’ learning and studies that focused on pre-service or practicing teachers’ learning. Studies that examined broader learning outcomes (socialization, for instance, change of attitude, etc.) rather than specific subject areas are included. We identified 15 studies that met these criteria. All the studies in this section were longitudinal and used qualitative methods. Student learning. Eight of the 15 studies we identified focused on student learning. Berghoff’s (2005) work-in-progress, focused on the impact of engagement with visual arts and dance on students’ concepts of identity – their own and others’ – as individuals in community with others. The arts and their influence on literacy development were the focus of four studies: Coufal and Coufal’s (2002), Cowan’s (2001), Crumpler (2002), and Trainin, Andrzejczak, and Poldberg’s (2005). Hanley (2002), studied the use of drama to promote multicultural education with high school students. Maher (2004) investigated the uses of visual arts, music, and quilting in a unit in social science, while McDermott, Rothenberg, and Hollinde (2005) studied the impact of visual arts engagement on student learning in literacy, science, and social science. Mello (2001) examined the impact of storytelling on fourth grade students’ social relationships and development of moral concepts.

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Teacher learning, teacher change. Teacher change is a prominent theme in the largescale studies reviewed by Horowitz (2004). It is also prominent in the seven smallscale studies we identified. Borgmann (2005) used in-depth, individual narratives to investigate what pre-service teachers’ learning looks like. Borgmann, Berghoff, and Parr’s (2001) five-year study of pre-service classroom teachers examined how personal voice, metaphor, aesthetic modes of knowing, and the practice of revision of arts products contribute to strengthening teachers’ positive disposition towards the arts. Mello (2004) investigated the impact of arts-based pedagogy on pre-service student learning. Patteson, Upitis, and Smithrim (2002) studied transformation among teachers who engaged in their own art-making through a professional development program. They speculated that teachers who were convinced of the importance of the arts to human life would then introduce and sustain the presence of the arts in their classrooms, whether mandated by curricula or not. Oreck (2002, 2004) focused on teachers’ skills and confidence in using the arts in their classrooms, while Parr (2005) proposed a research-based, cyclical curriculum model that she argued would “dramatically change how pre-service and practicing teachers understand and value the arts” (p. 19). Wilson (2002) studied the impact of 125 hours of instruction in arts integration on teachers’ beliefs about change, and the importance of the arts in the elementary classroom. One interesting finding in Wilson (2002) is pertinent to teachers’ sense of agency. Worth noting, we think, is the finding that several teachers reported being more concerned with making the total program more meaningful for students and less concerned with the breadth of the Education department’s expectations.

Critical Commentary Evaluations and studies of arts-integration initiatives use a variety of measurement and descriptive approaches, and there are many examples of qualitative data informing quantitative measures (see also Horowitz, 2004). Such studies, drawing out the challenges and successes of large-scale and small-scale arts-integrated programs, can make a valuable contribution to the study of arts-integration outcomes. Most of the small studies and large-scale evaluations we have cited here used qualitative methodologies; these reported positive learning outcomes. These outcomes include claims that engagement with subject matter through the arts helps students and teachers approach school tasks with increased intensity, commitment, and capacity for critical thinking. Yet, policymakers in many school districts increasingly focus on high-stakes standardized tests as measures of success in learning. It is, therefore, important, according to Horowitz (2004) to acknowledge that arts-integrated programs “are inherently complex and multi-dimensional, and don’t easily lend themselves to experimental designs and purely outcome-based evaluations” (p. 7). There are certainly numerous aspects involved besides student achievement when trying to capture the diversity of experience and the effects of programs and initiatives. The assessment of student learning is particularly problematic because, as some researchers (Horowitz, 2004; Mansilla, 2005) point out, it is difficult to obtain data that serve as evidence of learning – other than what is measurable. Some researchers (e.g., Berghoff, 2005; Mansilla, 2005), however, raise methodological and conceptual

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concerns related to assessment of learning in qualitative studies of arts-integration programs and projects. Arguing that the purpose of subject integration is to achieve cognitive advancement, Mansilla (2005) proposes guidelines for assessing cognitive gain built on a “performance view of understanding” – a view that privileges the capacity to use knowledge over that of simply having or accumulating it. From this perspective, individuals are judged to have understood a concept when they are able to apply it, or think with it accurately and flexibly in novel situations. In addition, Berghoff (2005) contends that growth in students’ ability to think abductively – what we do when we create new or more complex mental models for ourselves – depends upon students’ engagement with a variety of rich experiences. Berghoff argues therefore, abductive thinking occurs when students engage with artsinfused curriculum. For this reason, discipline-specific knowledge is an important asset in promoting learners’ ability to think abductively. Aligned with these views on abductive thinking is a methodological issue. Berghoff (2005) and Borgmann (2005) explain that it is difficult both to obtain data that capture learning and to show learning in art-infused curriculum, because the learning looks qualitatively different from learning in other models of curriculum. Moreover, student-produced artifacts or their behaviors are not necessarily dependable indicators of students’ thinking and therefore analysis of such data is not necessarily reliable. We agree that any evaluation of artsintegrated programs will be misguided, if it is primarily focused on measuring success in terms of improvement on high-stakes tests. There are, however, two troublesome issues in determining the impact of these programs and studies on a policy and political level. One such issue has to do with who does the evaluation, and what the evaluation seeks to evaluate. An issue not raised in the literature, which we think is important, pertains to the distance that is achievable by researchers conducting studies of their own practices in arts integration. Therefore we think, with Gee (2003, 2004), that it is important to ask: Who is conducting the research, for which/whose purposes, and what methodological issues need to be addressed to ensure transparency? Programs that aim to enrich school curricula through the arts are aware of the importance of satisfying various groups and especially the demand that students’ academic achievement will not be adversely affected. Thus, given the importance of evaluating program outcomes, or effectiveness, we note that two types of approaches are used to evaluate different types of outcomes of the arts-integration programs that we examined in this chapter: analyses of test scores and qualitative studies. The statistical analyses respond to concerns about students’ abilities to do well on tests in the core curriculum, while qualitative inquiries aim to elicit deeper understandings of how the arts experiences affect students’ and teachers’ behaviors, attitudes, and learning strategies, parents’ and administrators’ outlooks, and so on. The studies reported here often used mixed methods to ascertain outcomes that are measurable (test scores) and outcomes that do not lend themselves easily to measurement (e.g., enthusiasm, intrinsic motivation, affective connections, analytic thinking skills, etc.). These studies reflect a chasm between the expectations of standardized testing with the assessment of qualitative outcomes. Second, we agree with Horowitz (2004) that there is still a critical need to find better outcome measures, particularly in the area of student growth. The evaluation reports and

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studies we discussed here do not capture the full extent of learning within arts integrated environments. However, the goal of this effort should not be to justify arts integration by showing that students’ achievement is enhanced through arts-integrated programs. We also agree with DeMoss and Morris (2002) that evaluators and researchers should seek to develop a variety of ways to represent the multiple kinds of student growth in artsintegrated programs. Further research should focus on how students’ arts-integrated learning provides both cognitively and affectively different experiences.

Discussion and Implications As the vigorous debates between those supporting arts as disciplines and those arguing for arts integration continue, our review has sought to move beyond these dichotomous discussions in order to explore the outcomes and implications of learning and teaching in integrated learning environments. Our hope is to show that, as researchers and practitioners in arts education, we need to engage in more in-depth research on the role of arts integration in education so that recommendations and decisions regarding arts integration are based less on belief and more on evidence. The studies and programs we reviewed here suggest that there are benefits and challenges associated with the implementation and evaluation of arts-integrated programs. In the next section, we discuss some of those benefits and challenges of arts integration in schools, drawing particular attention to the pedagogical, methodological, and political implications.

Benefits Studies abound that seek to quell anxieties about the abilities of students who have experienced arts-integrated curricula to achieve test success in core school subjects. Quantitative studies show repeatedly that students’ grades do not suffer, and may even improve. Qualitative studies and anecdotal evidence, on the other hand, suggest strongly that a more important, possibly more long-lasting benefit to students is a positive change in attitude towards school itself. Such change lends itself well to description, less so to measurement. On the other hand, description seems to work less well than measurement for advocacy purposes, where a table can show results at a glance, and results are presented as unbiased, distanced, scientific, reliable, and truthful. It is clear that each type of assessment speaks to different audiences in different ways; each has a role to play in advocacy, in curriculum planning, and program design.

Challenges In spite of the many advantages of arts integration in the studies and programs we reviewed, there are still some important objections and obstacles. In the programs reviewed here, we identified and discussed some of the challenges that arose in our literature review earlier in this chapter. These challenges include the concerns that arts integration undermines the concepts from individual subject matter areas, issues of

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teacher self-efficacy, the structure of the school day in traditional educational systems, and issues associated with teacher education in implementing integrated approaches. At the center of concerns with the adoption of arts-integrated curricula remains the issue of the integrity of individual subject matter areas. The concern is that teaching all the arts together along with other subject areas undermines deep understanding of the concepts in each subject area. The pedagogical side of this argument is that demands for cognitive operations involved in each subject area are fundamentally different and discrete. The political side of this argument is that blending all the arts together undermines the place of each particular art in the school curriculum and sends the message that it is acceptable to do so. In any case, it is clear that a key requirement for successful arts integration is the close collaboration of the teacher-artist partnership. Yet, without arriving at some common vision about objectives or how to attain them, it is unlikely that constructive work can occur. Bumgarner’s (1994) conclusion that “to expect professional artists to inculcate teachers and school administration with a conception of arts education so vastly different from prevailing practice is illogical and unrealistic” (p. 11) is a conclusion shared by Meban (2002) a Canadian artist-teacher. Another important issue in arts integration relates to teacher self-efficacy and preparation to teach using integrated approaches. Self-efficacy refers to the belief in one’s own capability to execute a task (Bandura, 1997). Given that most teachers at the secondary level are educated in a particular discipline and that teachers at the elementary level usually have more confidence in certain subjects, it is understandable that teachers feel uncomfortable when asked to teach in an integrated manner, unless they have had opportunities to develop deeper knowledge in the subjects they are trying to integrate. The programs and studies we examined suggest that when appropriate training and sustained support is provided then the issue of self-efficacy can be successfully tackled (e.g., Borgmann, Berghoff, & Parr, 2001; McCammon & Betts, 2001; Oreck, 2002, 2004; Patteson, 2002, 2004; Patteson et al., 2002). Concerns about the allocation of time to accomplish goals may also be related to the structure of the school day (Groves et al., 2001). This is particularly an issue in jurisdictions where a national curriculum is adopted by all schools, and where the structure does not allow enough time or flexibility to integrate. Unless teachers team-teach, they may lack opportunities to collaborate with other teachers. Moreover, if there is lack of belief in the value of integrated curricula then any effort in that direction may be resisted. Any changes in culture and practice must be supported by structural changes, particularly in the use of time (Groves et al., 2001). The programs and studies we have reviewed here suggest that meaningful experiences for teachers and students occur where there is sufficient training in how to use integrated approaches in pre-service or in-service education programs, and where appropriate structures of support are in place. Fostering this kind of teaching presents the more difficult task of deciding the mode of integration one wants to make, how to implement it and how to go about evaluating students’ (and teachers’) learning. Not surprisingly, no approach is free of problems. Releasing teachers’ creative energy through professional development programs and other types of support seems to empower teachers to create the “space” that they need to blossom. Ultimately, the success of artsintegration programs depends upon the commitment of classroom teachers.

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Conclusion The most intriguing challenge in integration is to find ways of collaborating across disciplines and professional ideologies. Successful cases of integration are characterized by “transformative practice zones” that “provide spaces to share and listen to others’ ideas, visions and commitments, and to build relationship in collaboration across disciplines and institutions” (Bresler, 2003, p. 24). Integrated curricula have the potential to create transformative zones, thereby encouraging open-endedness, spaces for exploration, connection, discovery, and collaboration by bringing together various areas of knowledge, experiences, and beliefs. Integration initiatives seem to be in tension with the current conservative “back-tobasics” vision of what education is for, and how it should be carried out. There seems to be a public perception that the arts are being stripped from the curriculum, yet the body of literature that we examined seems to suggest otherwise. The growing body of research as well as practical suggestions for program organization, teacher education, and classroom applications form a base of knowledge from which to engage in discussions about arts integration that are grounded in actual experience rather than in perception. Researchers and teacher educators also have a role to play in helping others to learn to distinguish between evidence and perception, between fact and belief. We conclude our review of the issues surrounding arts integration across the curriculum with this quote from philosopher David Best (1995), which we think is a fitting way to end: the value and intelligibility of integrated work will always depend ultimately on particular cases. Whether and when it is educationally enlightening to work with other subjects, whether arts or non-arts, will depend, as all education ought to depend, primarily upon the informed professional judgment of teachers who are expert in their particular fields. It will depend upon our having confidence in well-educated teachers. They are in the best position to make sound decisions about the value of working collectively with other disciplines. (p. 38)

Notes 1. We note also a growing body of literature from African and aboriginal communities in North America and Australia that advocates a return to a precolonial era holistic approaches to teaching and learning. In this chapter we focus on literature pertaining to mainstream, Western-style educational practices. 2. Updated information on this program retrieved on October 7, 2005 from http://aplus-schools.uncg.edu. 3. Information about this program retrieved from http://www.ltta.ca. For a detailed description of the program, see Elster (2001) at http://IJEA.asu.edu/v2n7 4. Further information on this program is available at http://www.capeweb. org. The rationale, organization, and implementation of this program are presented in Burnaford, Aprill, and Weiss (2001). The text offers a theoretical framework for arts-integration practice. 5. One has only to do an Internet Search to discover the integrative work that teaching professionals are doing in their classrooms in attempting to make their teaching and their students’ learning more meaningful. These individuals, often working in collaboration with colleagues, tend to operate outside the research community and the large institutional programs.

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References Bandura, A. (1997). Self-efficacy: The exercise of control. New York: Freeman. Barrett, J. R., McCoy, C. W., & Veblen, K. K. (1997). Sound ways of knowing: Music in the interdisciplinary curriculum. New York: Schirmer/Wadsworth. Beane, J. (1997). Curriculum integration: Designing the core of democratic education. New York: Teachers College Press. Beane, J., & Brodhagen, B. (1996). Doing curriculum integration. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin. Beane, J. A. (1991). The middle school: The natural home of integrated curriculum. Educational Leadership, 49(2), 9–13. Berghoff, B. (2005). Views of learning through the arts in elementary classrooms. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Montréal, Canada. Best, D. (1995). Collective, integrated arts: The expedient generic myth. Arts Education Policy Review, 97(1), 32–39. Retrieved online September 23, 2005 via McGill University Library. Borgmann, C. B. (2005). Views of learning through the arts in teacher education. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Montréal, Canada. Borgmann, C. B., Berghoff, B., & Parr, N. C. (2001). Dispositional change in pre-service classroom teachers through the aesthetic experience and parallel processes of inquiry in arts integration. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 17(1), 61–77. Bresler, L. (1995). The subservient, co-equal, affective and social integration styles and their implications for the arts. Arts Education Policy Review, 96(5), 31–37. Bresler, L. (2003). Out of the trenches: The joys (and risks) of cross-disciplinary collaborations. Council of Research in Music Education, 152, 17–39. Brewer, T. M. (2002). Integrated curriculum. What benefit? Arts Education Policy Review, 10(4), 31–37. Bumgarner, C. M. (1994) Artists in the classrooms: The impact and consequences of the National Endowment for the Arts’ artist residency program on K-12 arts education. Arts Education Policy review, 95(3), 14–30. Burnaford, G., Aprill, A., & Weiss, C. (Eds.). (2001). Renaissance in the classroom: Arts integration and meaningful learning. Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Burton, J., Horowitz, R., & Abeles, H. (1999). Learning in and through the arts: Curriculum implications. Washington, DC: Champions of Change Report, The Arts Education Partnership, and the President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities. Chrysostomou, S. (2004). Interdisciplinary approaches in the new curriculum in Greece: A focus on music education. Arts Education Policy Review, 10(5), 23–29. Consortium of National Arts Education Organizations. (1994). National standards for arts education. Reston, VA: Music Educators National Conference. Coufal, K. L., & Coufal, D.C. (2002). Colorful wishes: The fusing of drawing, narratives, and social studies. Communication Disorders Quarterly, 23(2), 109–121. Cowan, K. W. (2001). The arts and emergent literacy. Primary Voices, 9(4), 11–18. Crumpler, T. (2002). Scenes of learning: Using drama to investigate literacy learning. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 18(1), 55–74. Deasey, R. (Ed.) (2002). Critical links: Learning in the arts and student academic and social development. Washington, DC: Arts Education Partnership. DeMoss, K., & Morris, T. (2002). How arts integration supports student learning. Students shed light on the connections. Retrieved online September 12, 2005 from http://www.capeweb.org/demoss.pdf Detels, C. (1999). Soft boundaries: Re-visioning the arts and aesthetics in American education. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey. Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and education. New York: Free Press. Dewey, J. (1934). Art as experience. New York: Putnam. Doll, W. (1993). A post-modern perspective on curriculum. New York: Teachers College Press. Efland, A. (1990). A history of art education: Intellectual and social currents in teaching the visual arts. New York: Teachers College Press. Efland, A. (2002). Art and cognition, integrating the visual arts in the curriculum. New York: Teachers College Press.

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Eisner, E. W. (1985). Learning and teaching the ways of knowing: Eighty-fourth Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education, Part II. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Freedman, K. (2003). Teaching visual culture: Curriculum, aesthetics and the social life of art. New York: Teachers College Press. Gardner, H. (1983). Frames of mind: The theory of multiple intelligences. New York: Basic, Gee, C. B. (2003). Uncritical pronouncements build critical links for federal arts bureaucracy. Arts Education Policy Review, 104(3), 17–20. Gee. C. B. (2004). Spirit, mind and body: Arts education the Redeemer. In E. Eisner & M. Day (Eds.), Handbook of research and policy in art education (pp. 115–134). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers. Goldberg, M. (2001). Arts and learning: An integrated approach to teaching and learning in multicultural and multilingual settings (2nd ed.). New York: Longman/Addison Wesley. Groves, P., Gerstl-Pepin, C. I., Patterson, J., Cozart, S. C., & McKinney, M. (2001). Educational resilience in the A Schools Program: Building capacity through networking and professional development. Winston-Salem, NC: Thomas S. Kenan Institute for the Arts. Hanley, M. S. (2002). Bird in the air: Critical multicultural education through drama. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 18(1), 75–98. Hetland, L., & Winner, E. (2000). The arts in education: Evaluating the evidence for a causal link. The Journal of Aesthetic Education, 34(3/4), 3–10. Horowitz, R. (2004). Summary of large-scale arts partnership evaluations. Washington, DC: Arts Education Partnership. Horowitz, R., & Webb-Dempsey, J. (2002). Promising signs of positive effects: Lessons from the multi-arts studies. In R. Deasey (Ed.), Critical links: Learning in the arts and student academic and social development (pp. 98–101). Washington, DC: Arts Education Partnership. Maher, R. (2004). “Workin’ on the railroad:” African American labor history. Social Education, 68(5), 4–10. Mansilla, V. B. (2005). Assessing student work at disciplinary crossroads. Change, 37(1), 14–22. Marshall, J. (2005). Connecting art, learning, and creativity: A case for curriculum integration. Studies in Art Education, 46(3), 227–241. Mason, T. C. (1996). Integrated curricula: Potential and problems. Journal of Teacher Education, 47(4), 263–270. McCammon, L., & Betts, D. J. (2001). Breaking teachers out of their little cells. Youth Theatre Journal, 15(1), 81–94. McDermott, P., Rothenberg, J., & Hollinde, P. (2005). “Let me draw!” How the arts foster knowledge and critical thinking in an urban school. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 21(1), 119–138. Meban, M. (2002). The postmodern artist in the school: Implications for arts partnership programs. International Journal of Education and the Arts, 3(1). Retrieved online September 12, 2005 from http://ijea.asu.edu/v3/n1 Mello, R. (2001). The power of storytelling: How oral narrative influences children’s relationships in classrooms. International Journal of Education and the Arts, 2(1). Retrieved online September 12, 2005 from http://ijea.asu.edu/v2n1 Mello, R. (2004). When pedagogy meets practice: Combining arts integration and teacher education in the college. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 20(1), 135–164. Oreck, B. (2002). The arts in teaching: An investigation of factors influencing teachers’ use of the arts in the classroom. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Seattle, WA. Oreck, B. (2004). The artistic and professional development of teachers: A study of teachers’ attitudes toward and use of the arts in teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 55(1), 55–69. Parr, N. C. (2005). Semiotic cycles of learning and the challenges of visual data. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Montréal, Canada. Parsons, M. (2004). Art and integrated curriculum. In E. Eisner & M. Day (Eds.), Handbook of research and policy in art education (pp. 775–794). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Patteson, A. (2002). Amazing grace and powerful medicine: A case study of an elementary teacher and the arts. Canadian Journal of Education, 27(2&3), 269–289.

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Patteson, A. (2004). Present moments, present lives: teacher transformation through art-making. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Queen’s University, Kingston, Canada. Patteson, A., Upitis, R., & Smithrim, K. (2002). Teachers as artists: Transcending the winds of curricular change. In B. White & G. Bogardi (Eds.), Professional development: Where are the gaps? Where are the opportunities? Educators’ and artists views on arts education in Canada (pp. 83–100). Montréal, Canada: The National Symposium on Arts Education. Perkins, D. (1989). Selecting fertile themes for integrated learning. In H. Jacobs (Ed.), Interdisciplinary curriculum: Design and implementation (pp. 67–76). Alexandria, VA: ASCD. Russell, J. (2006). Preservation and development in the transformative zone: Fusing disparate styles and traditions in a pedagogy workshop with Cuban musicians. British Journal of Music Education, 23(2), 1–12. Trainin, G., Andrzejczak, N., & Poldberg, M. (2005). Visual arts and writing: A mutually beneficial relationship. Arts & Learning Research Journal, 21(1), 139–156. Upitis, R., & Smithrim, K. (2003). Learning Through The Arts™: National assessment 1999–2002 Final Report to the Royal Conservatory of Music. Toronto: The Royal Conservatory of Music. Upitis, R., Smithrim, K., Patteson, A., & Meban, M. (2001). The effects of an enriched elementary arts education program on teacher development, artist practices, and student achievement: Baseline student achievement and teacher data from six Canadian sites. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 2(8). Retrieved online September 12, 2005 http://ijea.asu.edu Veblen, K., & Elliott, D. J. (2000). Integration: For or against? General Music Today, 14(1), 4–12. Waldorf, L. A. (2002). The professional artist as public school educator: A research report of the Chicago Arts Partnerships inn Education, 2000–2001. UCLA Graduate School of Education & Information Studies. Wilson, B., Corbett, D., & Noblit, G. (2001). Executive summary: The arts and education reform: Lessons from a 4-year evaluation of the A Schools Program 1995–1999. North Carolina School of the Arts, NC: Thomas S. Kenan Institute for the Arts. Wilson, M. (2002). Integrated arts: A partnership model for teacher education. Symposium paper. In B. White & G. Bogardi (Eds.), Professional development: Where are the gaps? Where are the opportunities? Educators’ and artists’ views on arts education (pp. 119–126). National Symposium on Arts Education. Wineberg, S., & Grossman, P. (Eds.). (2000). Interdisciplinary curriculum: Challenges to implementation. New York: Teachers College Press. Winner, E. (2003). Beyond the evidence given: A critical commentary on Critical Links. Arts Education Policy Review, 104(3), 1–13. Winner, E., & Hetland, L. (2000). The arts and academic achievement: What the evidence shows. Executive Summary. The Journal of Aesthetic Education, 3(4), 1–10.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 18.1 Integrated Arts Education in South Africa

Anri Herbst University of Cape Town, South Africa

I am surrounded by singing, dancing and acting bees, and crickets in a picturesque urbanized rural area in South Africa. These “insects” also write poems and paint colorful pictures: They are the learners of a Grade 3 (age 9) class in which numeracy, literacy, and life skills are taught through the “musical arts” (see Mans, 1999; Nzewi, 2001). The teacher, a generalist classroom teacher in a government school, is trying to fulfill the ideals of the Revised National Curriculum Statement, labeled “Curriculum 2005,” which was formulated after the 1994 democratic elections in South Africa. This Curriculum promises to be student-centered, outcomes-based, and skills-oriented with the focus on intra- and interdisciplinary integration (National Department of Education, 2002). The above snapshot highlights the tension between oral and written knowledge systems in postcolonial democratic South Africa (see Herbst, De Wet, & Rijsdijk, 2005; Primos, 2001). In the indigenous sub-Saharan African curriculum-of-life approach, the musical arts not only amplify daily life experiences, but also act as an important mediator and transactor of life (Dlamini, 2004; Nzewi, 2003). It is no wonder that stories and games (with and without music) act as important carriers of sociocultural knowledge (e.g., Agawu, 1995; Dzansi, 2002; Mans, Dzansi-McPalm, & Agak, 2003; Ng’andu & Herbst, 2004). While the indigenous classroom presents a natural integration of the arts into daily events, accelerated learning in government schools attempts to simulate the indigenous “classroom” by presenting subjects glued together, often superficially, and approached in an intradisciplinary and interdisciplinary way (see National Research Foundation/NRF, 2005). In a survey by the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC) in 2005, 90% of rural primary school educators indicated that games form an important part of their teaching strategies. The quality of the teaching and the success rate of using these strategies were unfortunately not assessed. Despite the grand ideals outlined in “Curriculum 2005,” reality shows that implementation of the Arts and Culture learning area falls short in the majority of South 303 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 303–306. © 2007 Springer.

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African government schools (Herbst et al., 2005; Klopper, 2004). Musical arts education suffers because of inadequate generalist teacher training, unrealistic expectations from generalist teachers, poverty, AIDS-related health issues, and discrepancies between rural and urbanized general education (Human Sciences Research Council, 2005). It is therefore not surprising that I could not locate any formal South Africa research equivalent to that discussed in the preceding chapter. Completed research projects reflect the need for inter- and multicultural teaching, in-service training, models, and learning programs for integration. Current studies focus on the values of indigenous knowledge systems for modern Africa and a sociocultural musical arts identity amidst a strong global market-driven music industry (see NRF, 2005). Although it may seem as if scholarly research on the success of integration and outcomes-based education has been put on the back burner, it could well be that the singing and dancing insects mentioned in the first paragraph hold the promise that South Africa will indeed succeed in merging indigenous and global knowledge systems in a unique way. This can occur only when we have fully grasped the impact of our colonial past on indigenous knowledge system and developed a workable vision for the future (see Potgieter, 2005), and when Arts and Culture as a learning area is indeed taught in all schools in South Africa.

References Agawu, K. (1995). African rhythm: A northern Ewe perspective. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Dlamini, S. (2004). The role of the umrhubhe bow as transmitter of cultural knowledge among the amaXhosa: An interview with Latozi “Madosini” Mpahleni. Journal of the Musical Arts in Africa, 1, 138–160. Dzansi, M. (2002). Some manifestations of Ghanaian indigenous culture in children’s singing games. International Journal of Education and the Arts, 3(7). Retrieved November 18, 2005, from http://ijea.asu.edu Herbst, A., De Wet, J., & Rijsdijk, S. (2005). A survey of music education in the primary schools of South Africa’s Cape Peninsula. Journal of Research in Music Education, 53(3), 260–283. Human Sciences Research Council with the Education Policy Consortium for the Nelson Mandela Foundation/HSRC. (2005). Emerging voices: A report on education in South African rural communities. Cape Town: HSRC Press. Retrieved November 18, 2005, from www.hsrcpress.ac.za Klopper, C. (2004). Variables impacting on the delivery of music in the learning area arts and culture in South Africa. Unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Pretoria, South Africa. Mans, M. (1999). Namibian music and dance as Ngoma in arts education. Unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Natal, Durban, South Africa. Mans, M., Dzansi-McPalm, M., & Agak, H. (2003). Play in musical arts pedagogy. In A. Herbst, M. Nzewi, & A. Agawu (Eds.), Musical arts in Africa: Theory, practice and education (pp. 195–214). Pretoria: University of South Africa Press. National Department of Education, South Africa. (2002). Revised national curriculum statement, Arts and culture. Retrieved September 16, 2005, from http://curriculum.wcape.school.za/ncs/index/lareas/ view/6/#9 National Research Foundation of South Africa (NRF). (2005). Nexus database of completed and current research projects undertaken in South Africa. Retrieved September 16, 2005, from www.nrf.ac.za Ng’andu, J., & Herbst, A. (2004). Lukwesa ne Ciwa [The story of Lukwesa and Iciwa]: Musical storytelling of the Bemba of Zambia. British Journal of Research in Music Education, 21(1), 41–61.

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Nzewi, M. (2001). Music education in Africa: Mediating the imposition of Western music education with the imperatives of the indigenous African practice. In C. Van Niekerk (Ed.), PASMEC 2001: Selected conference proceedings from the conference held in Lusaka, Zambia, 21–25 August 2001 (pp. 18–55). Pretoria: Pasmae. Nzewi, M. (2003). Strategies for music education in Africa. In A. Herbst, M. Nzewi, & A. Agawu (Eds.), Musical arts in Africa: Theory, practice and education (pp. 13–37). Pretoria: University of South Africa Press. Potgieter, H. (Ed.). (2005). Musical arts education in transformation: Indigenous and global perspectives in South Africa. Cape Town: African Minds. Primos, K. (2001). Africa. In D. Hargreaves & A. North, A. (Eds.), Musical development and learning: The international perspective (pp. 1–13). London: Continuum.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 18.2 Arts Integration in Greece

Smaragda Chrysostomou National and Kapodistrian University of Athens, Greece

Issues involved in holistic approaches to education, integrated curricula, and interdisciplinary approaches to teaching and learning have dominated Greek and Cypriot educational literature during recent decades. Since 2001, Greece has embarked on the application of a new integrated approach in which horizontal and vertical connections are aimed across the curriculum at all levels of education. Nevertheless, a number of educators in the country (Grollios, 2003; Noutsos, 2003; Therianos, 2003) have questioned this new curriculum in view of the limited application of similar programs in Europe. They have also criticized the possibility for realization of the philosophical and theoretical aims, as well as the lack of research and evaluation of a pilot application of the program. On the other hand, the creators of the new integrated curriculum, based on a preliminary evaluation of the pilot application, report positive outcomes and acceptance by teachers, students, and parents (Alahiotis, 2004). Also, a growing number of educational researchers (Aggelidis & Mavroidis, 2004; Matsaggouras, 2003; Spiropoulou, 2004) have attempted interdisciplinary and integrated approaches in their classrooms around the country and are exploring different outcomes and questions relating to their appropriateness and effectiveness, as well as change in students’ attitudes towards learning. The only large-scale application of arts integration in Greece is the “Melina project” (Melina Project, n.d.), piloted in 93 primary schools in Greece and 2 schools in Cyprus in 1995–2001. Its main aim, the enhancement of the cultural dimension of education and the empowerment of everyday school life through the arts (music, dance-movement, plastic arts, drama, and audio-visual arts), is achieved through development of artistic expression, interpersonal communication skills, and cultural conscience. The success of the program is evident from the evaluation and assessment that was completed during and after the project, as well as the important legacy that it created for the schools where it was applied. Since 2001, the project has entered its next phase, defined as generalization, and is being piloted in one prefecture in Crete (Chania). 307 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 307–308. © 2007 Springer.

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References Aggelidis, P., & Mavroidis, G. (Eds.). (2004). Educational innovations for the school of the future (Vol. A). Athens: Typothito. Alahiotis, S. (2004). Towards a contemporary educational system: Integration and flexible zone change education and upgrade educational quality. In P. Aggelidis & G. Mavroidis, G. (Eds.), Educational innovations for the school of the future (Vol. A). Athens: Typothito. Grollios, G. (2003). Foundation, aims and integration in the new curriculum for education. Ekpaideutiki Koinotita, 67, 30–37. Matsaggouras, I. (2003). Integration in school knowledge. Athens: Gregory. Melina Project Education & Culture. (n.d.). Retrieved September 14, 2005 from www.prmelina.g Noutsos, M. (2003). Unified curriculum: The ideology of confusion. Ekpaideutiki Koinotita, 67, 24–29. Spiropoulou, D. (2004). The flexible zone as educational innovation: A case study of three secondary schools. Epitheorisi Ekpaideutikon Thematon, 9, 157–171. Therianos, K. (2003). Integration in education: Can DEPPS and Flexible Zone change schools if we do not change examinations and assessment? Ekpaideutiki Koinotita, 67, 18–23.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 18.3 Arts Integration in Japan

Koji Matsunobu University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

The Japanese Ministry of Education secures a minimum time and budget allotment for arts instruction in schools. Given this situation, almost no research on extrinsic values of arts learning exists in Japan. The status of the arts being equivalent and comparable to that of academic subjects in schools allows for the implementation of different types of arts integration. One example is sogotekina gakushu no jikan (“an integrated course”), one of the new curriculum areas sanctioned by the Ministry of Education and introduced in 1998, requiring two hours of instruction per week. This program will be in place until the next curriculum review results in changes in 2010. The main objective of sogotekina gakushu no jikan is to encourage students to engage in self-learning and to develop skills necessary for problem-finding/solving in real-life situations. Four major areas were proposed by the government as examples for ideal integrated projects: (1) international understanding, (2) welfare, (3) information, and (4) the environment. During implementation, arts educators discussed how their roles might support and enhance this new area of the curriculum. Examples of arts inclusion were teaching multicultural arts in a series of international education, giving musical performances in nursing homes as part of welfare education, studying/sharing/exhibiting art works through the Internet, and promoting and engaging in soundscape activities. There are numerous anecdotes and self-report accounts of successful practices of arts integration by school teachers, such as ones in a special 1999 issue of a music educator’s journal, Kyoiku Ongaku (Limited information in English about this project may be found at http://www.mext.go.jp/english/news/ 2000/10/001001.htm.). It is a common understanding among scholars and teachers that this program will disappear when the curriculum policy is renewed next time, for the same reason that arts education in many other countries has been cut: concern over standardized test scores. However, there is almost no research in Japan that proves the relationship between students’ engagements in integrated programs and their academic achievement. 309 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 309–310. © 2007 Springer.

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In his study on arts integration in Japan and the United States, Matsunobu (2005) contemplated possible factors regarding arts integration in schools within both cultures. In Japan there tends to be a cohesive view with regard to the aims of schooling and those of arts education, advocating for the holistic development of students, so-called josokyoiku, loosely translated as the cultivation of aesthetic and moral sentiments. Indeed, another word that can be substituted for Joso is kokoro (heart), the center of one’s entire being, and thus the inseparable combination of mental, physical, emotional, aesthetic, and spiritual capacities (Sato, 2004). This belief system, it seems, brings about the equal positioning of the arts and other subjects in school, as both are considered to serve the development of kokoro. Thus, the emphasis on academic subjects is not to denigrate the arts; rather the arts are seen as “pivotal vehicles” for improved academic studies (p. 4). Viewed from this point, the issue of arts integration reveals the necessity of integrating different perspectives and aims of school subjects that often contradict with each other. Matsunobu (2005) also questions whether the real issue is to incorporate the arts into the school curriculum or to promulgate aesthetic values as part of an indispensable component of a well-rounded school education.

References Kyoiku Ongaku. (1999). Kyoiku Ongaku Shogakuban: Ongakuka ga kakawaru sogoteki na gakushu jissen jirei 32 [Elementary music education: 32 Cases of integrated programs involving music]. Tokyo: Ongaku no Tomosha. Matsunobu, K. (2005). Ongakuka ni okeru togokyoiku no tenkai ni kansuru kenkyu [A study on music in the integrated curriculum]. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Tokyo Gakugei University, Tokyo. Sato, N. E. (2004). Inside Japanese classrooms: The heart of education. New York: RoutledgeFalmer.

INTERNATIONAL COMMENTARY 18.4 Flashes on Research and Practice in Integrated Music Education in German-speaking Europe Markus Cslovjecsek University of Applied Sciences Aarau, Switzerland

In the starting phase of a Swiss project called “Schulen mit erweitertem Musikunterricht EMU” (Schools with Enhanced Music Education), primary school teachers taught 5 hours of music a week with their classes. Despite the correspondingly reduced hours in the main subjects, the curriculum remained unchanged for all subjects. The first finding (after 4 years) indicated that the competences in the main subjects did not decrease (Weber, Spychiger, & Patry, 1993). In a second phase, it became obvious that musical activities have extramusical contents and that extramusical activities have musical contents (Spychiger, 1995, 2001). From the intense collaboration with the teachers involved, a practical teacher-manual was constructed (Cslovjecsek & Spychiger, 1998), textbooks on “Maths by Music” (Cslovjecsek, 2001/2004) have been developed, and “Train-the-trainer” programs in early language learning with music (Kramer, 2002) have been installed. Integrating musical activity in other subjects is still an innovative approach. A field study about math and music in Switzerland shows that even teachers with high interest in both subjects are not involving aspects of music education in their math lessons (Cslovjecsek, 2003). Through observations and interviews with experts, Donata Elschenbroich (2001) explored the knowledge of the seven-year-olds (Weltwissen der Siebenjährigen), developing not a canon of competencies but a list of learning experiences in music that should be integrated into the curriculum. Elschenbroich notes that young children are experts in developing verbal language out of sounds, in developing meaning out of gestures, and in creating learning games. Children do not distinguish between art-asdiscipline and art-as-handmaiden. The author finds that children construct an enormous amount of active knowledge through exploration of sound and motion, concluding that many important steps in children’s ways of exploring the world are anchored in how they deal with sound and motion, the sign systems of musical and kinesthetic intelligence. Another area of research relevant to arts integration has to do with auditory capacities and school success. Tewes, Steffen, and Warnke (2003) empirically demonstrate 311 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 311–312. © 2007 Springer.

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that it is possible to train auditory capabilities through electronic games. In their research on learning problems at the earliest stages of school, Breuer and Weuffen (2000) state that mostly insufficient linguistic perceptions and/or weak basic auditory and linguistic skills are involved. The children concerned show deficiencies regarding phonematic, kinesthetic, melodic, rhythmic, and optical differentiation. Ptok (2000) notes that such “basic processing abilities” are the foundation for linguistic competences and thus fundamental for a successful start at school. Since early learning difficulties often have a negative long-term effect, early arts education may be seen as critical. Sound colors, accents and melodies, and movement play major roles in language learning and understanding of young children, and can facilitate learning games. Despite this importance, boundaries between language and the arts are often questioned. Helmut Holoubek (1998) reconstructed the relationship of music in language education, offering a unique basis for interdisciplinary discourse as well as for the planning and implementation of integrated curriculum on the secondary school level.

References Breuer, H., & Weuffen, M. (2000). Lernschwierigkeiten am Schulanfang – Schuleingangsdiagnostik zur Früherkennung und Frühförderung [Learning difficulties when starting school – diagnostics for early diagnosis and encouragement]. Weinheim, Germany: Beltz. Cslovjecsek M., & Spychiger M. (1998). Mus ik oder Mus ik nicht? – Musik als Unterrichtsprinzip [To sound or not to sound – Music as an educational principle]. Hölstein [Switzerland]: Verlag SWCH. Cslovjecsek, M. (Ed.). (2001/2004). Mathe macht Musik: Impulse zum musikalischen Unterricht mit dem Zahlenbuch [Music by maths: Impulses for music education with the Math-Textbook]. (vols. 1–3). Zug [Switzerland]: Klett und Balmer. Cslovjecsek, M. (2003). Klang und Bewegung als Zugang zur Welt der Zahlen – ein lohnender Zugang zu einem musikbetonten Unterricht? [Sound and movement as the gateway to the world of numbers – a rewarding approach to education emphasizing music?]. Musikerziehung: Zeitschrift der Musikerzieher Österreich [Music education: Magazine of the Austrian Music Teachers] 57, 15–18. öbv&hpt. Vienna, Austria. Elschenbroich, D. (2001). Weltwissen der Siebenjährigen: Wie Kinder die Welt entdecken [World knowledge of the seven-year olds: How children can discover the world]. München [Germany]: Kunstmann. Holoubek, H. (1998). Musik im Deutschunterricht. (Re-)Konstruierte Beziehungen, oder: Thema con Variazioni. [Music within the language class. (Re)-constructed relationships or tema con variazioni]. Frankfurt on the Main: Peter Lang. Kramer, A. (2002). Musikalische Wege zur Fremdsprache in der Grundschule [A musical approach towards foreign language education in elementary school]. Teaching and learning. Lehren und Lernen, Zeitschrift des Landesinstitutes für Erziehung und Unterricht [Journal of the Federal Institute of Education],9(28),19–25. Germany. Ptok, M. (2000). Auditive Verarbeitungs – und Wahrnehmungsstörungen und Legasthenie [Auditive processing and percepting disorders and dyslexia]. Hessisches Ärzteblatt [Medical Journal of Hesse], 2, 52–54. Germany. Spychiger, M. (1995). Mehr Musikunterricht an den öffentlichen Schulen? [Should public schools offer more music education?]. Hamburg: Kovac. Spychiger, M. (2001). Understanding musical activity and musical learning as sign processes: Toward a semiotic approach to music education. Journal of Aesthetic Education, 35(1), 53–67. Tewes, U., Steffen, S., & Warnke, F. (2003, January). Automatisierungsstörungen als Ursache von Lernproblemen [Automatization disorders as the origin of learning difficulties]. Forum Logopädie [Forum for logopedics], 1(17), 2–8. Weber, E., Patry J. L., & Spychiger, M. (1993). Musik macht Schule [Music makes the school]. Essen [Germany]: Die blaue Eule.

19 ARTISTS IN THE ACADEMY: CURRICULUM AND INSTRUCTION Eve Harwood University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, U.S.A.

In the contemporary world of professional artists, a dance production may include spoken text and visual images; visual artists may present their ideas through performance art; architectural and acoustic space may be essential elements of a musical composition. In this world, conceptual boundaries between the arts have little meaning. But disciplinary structure is slow to change, at least in the North American academy, and research on college curriculum and instruction reflects the work of doctoral students and scholars in separate departments of theater, dance, music, art, and design.1 This chapter summarizes evidence-based accounts of teaching and learning in higher education, from roughly 1980 to the present, in four individual disciplines,2 visual art, music, theater and dance. Peer reviewed journals, dissertations, and single volume essays or histories in English have been the principal sources. The attempt is to identify trends, commonalities, and points of difference among these arts through consideration of three questions: Who is being taught and what do they tell us about the experience? What is the content of instruction and who decides? What do studio teaching and learning look like? The first two questions reflect primary ways of conceiving the purpose of education. In simplest terms they have been labeled by theorists as student-centered and discipline-centered approaches to curriculum. The third question often, but not exclusively, addresses teacher-centered approaches to curriculum in the central component of any arts program, namely the studio. For most arts students, studio instruction is at the heart of the curriculum. This setting relies on a model of teaching that is largely problem-based, as opposed to the information transmission model typically associated with lecture/discussion courses. I highlight studio teaching because research on exemplary practitioners and on assessment of student performance in such settings is a significant contribution the arts disciplines make to the general literature on undergraduate education. To narrow the scope of the chapter, I have excluded research on arts courses for nonmajors within a liberal arts education. Because sequential and incremental learning in the arts is structured through curriculum reserved for students who major in them 313 L. Bresler (Ed.), International Handbook of Research in Arts Education, 313–330. © 2007 Springer.

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(Harris, 1997), this chapter is limited to studies concerned with curriculum and instruction for students majoring in performing and visual arts. The large body of research literature on teacher preparation in the arts disciplines is also excluded; I refer the reader instead to existing literature on teacher education.3 Readers interested in the history of each discipline as it grew within American higher education will find comprehensive accounts in dance (Hagood, 2000), art (Ritchie, 1966; Singerman, 1999), theater (Berkeley, 2004; Ney, 1989), and music (Hays, 1999). These narratives present the development of the respective arts from European conservatory models (music and visual art), from physical education departments (dance), or from departments of English literature and speech (theater) to their present status within the academy. Some commonalities in these historical accounts bear mention here, as they provide context for the research reported in the main body of the chapter. First, each discipline carved out its place in higher education through the contributions of remarkable individuals and the establishment of model programs at significant institutions. Second, a signal event in establishing undergraduate curriculum content and standards within each discipline was the formation of an accrediting body: National Association of Schools of Music in 1924; National Association of Schools of Art and Design in 1944; National Association of Schools of Dance in 1981; and National Association of Schools of Theatre in 1989.4 Third, all describe a version of boom time in the 1970s and reduction in growth from the 1980s to the present. Significantly, contemporary debate about the place of the arts in higher education reflects questions raised during their first uneasy acceptance into the academy. I turn now to consideration of the first question: Who are the learners and what do they tell us about their experience of higher education?

Undergraduate Students in the Fine Arts Students5 who seek an arts education at the modern university must meet the institution’s academic standards and often an individual artistic review by audition or portfolio as well. While many of their counterparts at age 18 are uncertain about what they want to study, most entering fine arts students are already heavily invested in their disciplines. Some even choose a university in order to study with a specific faculty member, a criterion more commonly associated with graduate school in other disciplines. In some senses, the freshman fine arts student is seeking through university to extend a tradition that goes back centuries in the arts, where students lived with their teachers or worked as apprentices in an artist’s studio to gain their advanced education. Enrolment patterns in the United States indicate that the arts are far from marginal in terms of attracting students to higher education. In 2001 to 2002 there were 66,773 Bachelor’s degrees awarded in the visual and performing arts from Title IV degreegranting institutions.6 As the table below indicates, this is comparable to the percentage of degrees awarded in psychology and biology.

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Institutions of Postsecondary Education in the United States (IPEDS) 2001–2002 Field of study

Bachelor’s degrees

Percentage of total

Biological sciences Business administration Education Psychology Visual and performing arts

60,256 276,047 106,383 76,671 66,773

4.7 21.4 8.2 5.9 5.2

Given demanding entrance criteria and the uncertainty of developing a career after graduation, one may well wonder why so many students choose the arts. Evidence suggests that their primary reason is love of their art, even when they are realistic about the likelihood of a professional career. Survey results show that postsecondary students “have chosen this career path not out of a sense of financial remuneration or job security, but for the love of the disciplines they are studying” (Luftig, Donovan, & Farnbaugh, 2003, p. 10)

Student – Focused Research What do we know about the lived experience of these students in our university curricula? Two circ*mstances account for the paucity of answers to this question: the lack of theoretical framework for artistic development, and an untheorized teaching tradition that is largely mimetic from expert teacher to student novice. There is no established or even tentative theory of artistic development in the college years comparable with the multiple models for intellectual, ethical, and psychological development. In a longitudinal study of 21 visual art students from first year to graduation, Bekkala (2001) concluded that “while research pointed to general changes in cognition and experiences of self which impact the works young people create in art college, when they engage in creative activities, development also occurs in a manner which lies beyond the linear framework offered by theorists such as Erikson and Perry” (p. 256). The mimetic teaching tradition associated with studio teaching has resulted in a marked absence of student voice and in some cases a lack of concern for students’ aspirations. Comments from researchers make the point. [Theater] Our review of the (scanty) literature dealing with the impact of acting revealed that a voice conspicuously underrepresented was that of the university student actor. In our study, we decided to allow this voice to be heard. (Burgoyne, Poulin, & Reardon, 1999, p. 157) [Music] Historically, the predominant relationship between teacher and student in instrumental instruction has been described as a master-apprentice relationship, where the master usually is looked at as a role model and a source of identification for the students and where the dominating mode of student learning is imitation. (Jorgensen, 2000, p. 68) [Dance] … the feedback that is frequently emphasized in technique class usually comes from an outside source, such as the teacher or the mirror. It is separate

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from the experience of dancing, is given whether or not it is solicited and, as teachers, we expect our students to apply our feedback whether or not it correlates with their personal agendas. (Bracey, 2004, p. 20) What knowledge we have of students’ experience in the arts curriculum emerges from a combination of quantitative measures and direct student testimony reported in qualitative studies. One topic where both kinds of data are available is student response to evaluation of their work. How students understand such assessments, known variously as juries, critiques, or reviews, is of particular concern in the arts because the work submitted is often highly personal, involving body, mind, and spirit. One means of understanding how students experience criticism comes from selfreport surveys and standard personality tests. These have been used to identify personality types of students and teachers (Donovan, 1994; Gelbard, 1993), to identify students as ego or task oriented (Nieminen, Varstala, & Manninen, 2001), and to identify preferred feedback strategies (Salapa, 2000). Investigations of performance anxiety in music (Atlas, Taggart, & Goodell, 2004; Rack, 1996), and student attributions of success in art courses (Roach, 1993) suggest that students with low anxiety and less sensitivity to criticism experience more pleasure in their artistic performances. Such survey and correlation data provide one picture of arts students, as tending to be feeling/intuitive types (Salapa; Donovan; Gelbard) with regard for authority, needing acceptance, and respect to perform well (Rack; Roach; Atlas et al.). Qualitative studies investigate the meaning such general characteristics have in the context of individual student lives.7 Bracey (2004) used a qualitative design to understand the experience of five dancers taking advanced technique courses. Her informants reported feeling tension between emphasis on mechanics in technique class and emphasis on overall expression required in performances. Another tension was the relationship between their education in dance as art and dance as academic discipline. Third was the importance of community, the presence of other dancers as influencing each dancer’s learning. Risner (2000) studied the process of learning a particular piece of choreography. Many of his student dancers echoed sentiments expressed by Bracey’s informants, including the important role played by the presence of other dancers as they learned the piece. They also articulated that body memory, in particular, was a means of “knowing” the dance. In theater, Burgoyne et al. (1999) developed a theory regarding the blurring of boundaries between actor and character. A psychologist and an acting instructor interviewed 15 actors, including 7 undergraduate students, using grounded theory in their analysis. They found that in some cases the psychological effects of portraying characters had emotionally distressing consequences for the actor. Ability to control the blurring of boundaries influenced whether acting experience led to growth or to emotional distress. They recommended that “an ethical first step would be to incorporate discussion of boundary issues into the curriculum for acting and directing students” (p. 171). Several issues are embedded in these studies of fine arts students: the need to balance essential corrective feedback with developing independent artists, the presence of other students as essential for certain kinds of learning, and the relative lack of student voice in the research literature.8

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Curriculum Content: Who decides? The curriculum required of students in the arts at North American postsecondary institutions is a mosaic, each piece representing the various stakeholders who have a hand in shaping undergraduate education. These include the various accrediting bodies for higher education, university- specific graduation requirements, accrediting bodies in the arts and disciplinary experts in individual university departments. The result is a curriculum with few elective hours. In such an environment, curricular space becomes highly contested and the arts may have to assert their legitimacy in the academy. Many faculty will recognize the position described here for dance: “My conclusions illuminate the frequent mis-perceptions of the performing arts, and particularly dance, as merely narrow recreational or entertainment activities and show how these initial conceptions of dance had to be addressed and refuted when dance first entered the university” (Ross, 1998, p. v).

Historical Studies Research on the content appropriate to undergraduate arts programs exists in many forms, including historical, philosophical, and empirical studies. Historical research outlines the philosophical debates over content that emerged as each discipline entered the academy. The next section highlights selected issues in the history of each art, chosen because they have continued resonance. Singerman’s Art Subjects: Making Artists in the American University (1999) offers a history of the Master of Fine Arts degree but many issues apply equally to undergraduate programs in visual art. He addresses “not only the various images of the artist on campus but also the arguments those images advance for the place and position of art as a study in the university: its likeness to university scholarship and theoretical research. On campus, art cannot be a calling or a vocation” (p. 5). The case that art itself is a form of research is very much a contemporary idea, but Singerman suggests that its antecedents are to be found in arguments advanced for art in the academy from the beginning. In music, Hays (1999) explores the nexus between the music academy and the larger society through a cultural history of music schools’ development in North America. He traces music in education from its European roots in the Paris Conservatoire, to music conservatories in the new world, to social and political changes from the 1940s through the 1980s, and their influence (or lack of it) on curriculum in music in American higher education. His conclusions point to major changes in thinking now facing traditional schools of music: “The fundamental challenge of the music academy of the future is how to deal with a second paradigm of music defined by produced sound (vs. acoustic sound), popular music idioms, and the recording-as-art-work model of the virtual performance” (p. 233). Readers interested in a complete history of dance from the medieval university to postmodern aesthetics will find a comprehensive account in Hagood’s A History of Dance in American Higher Education: Dance and the American University (2000). One issue he examines is gender in dance programs, a concern also raised

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by Ross (1998), who characterizes the introduction of dance into the academy during the 1920s as representing a feminization of physical culture. In a related study (2000), Ross examines the initial controversy regarding whether dance should properly be seen as belonging to physical education, as represented by Margaret H’Doubler, or to the profession of dance as art, represented by figures such as Ruth St. Denis and Martha Graham. The difference between these two positions is evident decades later. Casten’s survey of dance program coordinators (1983) found significant curricular differences between those allied with departments of physical education and those housed in fine arts, with arts programs overwhelmingly stressing performance. In theater, Ney’s Functions of Academic Theatre Programs (1989) and Berkeley’s (2004) article “Changing view of knowledge and the struggle for the undergraduate curriculum 1900–1980” describe the evolution of theater curricula. Ney conceptualizes theater as having four phases in its development on campuses: play productions, curricular offerings for credit, creation of academic departments of theater, and growth of a professional training model for curriculum (p. 65). One of Berkeley’s conclusions is that “the values that gave rise to the inclusion of theater curricula at the turn of the twentieth century have little in common with the values of those who now govern the university and set its priorities” (p. 24). Such a conclusion applies beyond theater to all the arts, whose advocates must demonstrate how their curricula support the values embraced by the twenty-first century university. These values on North American campuses include achieving scholarly and professional preeminence in individual disciplines,9 providing “multicultural” and global education, infusing technology through the curriculum, and engaging communities outside the university. The next section summarizes selected studies as indicative of the arts’ response to such imperatives. The coverage of research here is in no way comprehensive; rather the titles listed are representative of many more in each category.

Empirical Studies: Discipline-Specific Content Many studies have proposed curricular reform, typically through the addition of particular subject matter.10 This approach is particularly evident in dissertation topics. A more or less random sampling in music, the most prolific of the arts in this area, includes the following: ●

● ●

●

appropriate inclusion of songs from the American musical theater repertoire in the undergraduate vocal studio (Bell, 1996); incorporating team teaching as an approach to vocal instruction (Forderhase, 1991); adding arts administration training to the music performance curriculum (Westin, 1996); the inclusion of jazz studies (Hennessey, 1995; Murphy, 1990; Rabideau, 1998); providing vocational skills and counseling within the violin performance curriculum (Reimer, 2003); specialization within percussion studio curricula in North America and Puerto Rico (Nave, 2001).

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Dissertations in the other arts are less numerous than in music, but there are similar examples: ● ● ● ● ●

teaching fiber art as an art (Craig, 1984); constructivist learning in a first-year art foundations course (Wright-Evans, 2001); including mime in the training of stage actors (Davis, 1991); training in film and video for stage actors (Ivins, 1993); the role of a student dance company in an academic setting (Nelson, 1980).

Discipline-specific research apart from dissertations includes reports of practitioner experience or case studies with individuals. Examples here are Fortin’s work on the empowering effect of somatic training for dancers (1998; Fortin, Long, & Lord, 2002); Butterworth’s (2004) proposal for a new paradigm in teaching choreography; Steven’s (2000) review of choreographic pedagogy in the United Kingdom including the history of professional choreographers; a report of an ensemble theater program designed as an alternative to the “increasingly rigid specialization in the theatre arts” (Leff, 1990) and an account of how aesthetic fundamentals in college art became subordinated, including a discussion of the schism between arts and design curricula (Lavender, 2003).

Curricular Trends in the Twenty-First Century Arts curricula have been affected by the so-called culture wars being waged in higher education since the 1960s. Feminist and postmodern critiques are challenging what was the core content in many arts, the European high art tradition. Such critiques are evident in journal articles for theater (Dolan, 1997; Nascimento, 2001; Schmor, 2004), dance (Shapiro, 1999), art (Freedman & Stuhr, 2004), and music (Parenti, 1996). The growth of departments of ethnomusicology, the rise of cultural studies centers, and a proliferation of global studies courses on the American campus are clear indications that the whole community has moved beyond a Eurocentric curriculum. A selection of such research in the arts includes strategies for including AfricanAmerican dance and culture (Hubbard & Sofras, 1998), documenting changes over several decades in multicultural music education (Volk, 2004), and developing historically Black colleges as critical pedagogy sites for theater (Medford, 2004). In music, consideration of what repertoire belongs in the curriculum has been particularly problematic. According to Hays, canonicity itself is an organizing principle for the music academy (1999, p. 227). Thus when jazz studies or world musics are proposed, their repertoire is presented as having its own canon, jazz standards, or identifiable regional musics worthy of study. Advances in technology have transformed the way artists work, and consequently the way they teach. Recent dissertations on technology-assisted instruction in the arts show the variety in applications to arts teaching: spectrographic analysis in the college voice studio (Callaway, 2001), use of a CAI program to teach music theory (Sterling, 2002), and the possibilities for distance education in art foundation courses (Cassidy, 2002). However, the real impact of technology on arts instruction stems from the ways that technology continues to transform how choreographers, composers, and visual

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artists work. Practice is changing continually, well ahead of research on the effects such innovations may have on student learning. Another trend with widespread implications for research is the mandate for universities to connect with the wider community. This is an arena where the arts are actively engaged in projects of many kinds, but systematic investigations of their effectiveness at present are lacking. For a review of research in music education and partnerships across the arts, see “Music Education Connections” (Myers, 2002). A British volume, Making Music Work: Professional Integration Project (Barnes, 1999), describes several kinds of partnerships being undertaken there. In American contexts sample connections include primary and secondary education (Beck & Appel, 2003), local artists (Walker, 2001), and community arts organizations (Alexander, 1997; Cohen-Cruz, 2001).

Instruction: Studio Teaching Close personal relationships between student and teacher naturally develop and are an expected part of studio teaching.11 These are learning-by-doing experiences, where teachers act as coaches and mentors. By definition, the instruction is problem-based, as students work to master specific repertoire or techniques and display continued advancement in their execution and artistry, as defined within the discipline and in the judgment of their teachers. What Ted Sizer (1996) called for as part of the essential schools movement, the public exhibition as demonstration of significant learning within a discipline, has been standard operating procedure in the arts for centuries. The presentation of plays, music and dance concerts, and art exhibitions serves as the public demonstration of competence for undergraduate arts majors. Perhaps no area of instruction in the arts in higher education has received more attention from researchers than evaluation of studio work. In visual arts, the “crit” serves as a public forum for assessment of individual students’ art. The practice of talking about a painting, both commenting as the students are working and when the work is completed, has a long history in art practice: “Reading a finished painting back to its maker so that the student artist’s project might be refined and extended is the teaching of painting by ‘crit’ ” (Singerman, 1999, p. 143). In dance, theater, and music, end-ofsemester juries or reviews serve a similar function, although verbal criticism may be given privately.

Assessing Studio Work In the studio, critiques serve several purposes. Some teachers use them to deliver summative judgments about the quality of student work. Others attach an educative value to the process and invite active participation by the students. Several writers have drawn attention to the negative effects assessment of student work in studio may have, in part, because individual competencies and personal experiences are publicly revealed (Anthony, 1991; Bekkala, 2001; James, 1996). Barrett (1988, 2000, 2004) has studied art criticism at many levels, including critique in higher education. Most studio teachers he interviewed saw evaluation as the

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primary purpose of critique. Many expressed interest in having students talk about their work, although none reported a systematic approach to the critique process. Studio teachers implicitly used intention as a major criterion for judgment; that is, they compared the student’s stated intention with its realization. Expert art critics, trained in aesthetics, did not share the studio artists’ assumption that intentionality by itself is an adequate criterion for judgment. Barrett concludes that “these studio professors are not doing criticism as it is recommended in art education literature” (1988, p. 26). A later study (Barrett, 2000) compares the way students perceive the critique process with the way their faculty see it. His suggestion is that literature on mentoring could greatly enhance the effectiveness of the critique for students and teachers. Kent (2001) conducted a case study of Lucio Pozzi’s studio critique method in a graduate summer course at NYU. This critique format included an introduction, close examination of an artwork, clarification questions and dialogue based on the act of looking, and a reiteration of salient points. Kent suggests that the content of Pozzi’s critique reflected his values, and therefore his method could be adapted but not copied by others. In dance, Lavender (1994, 1996) piloted a method for conducting critiques of students’ choreography with his own college class. Many studio teachers find it difficult to move students past comments such as “I like it” to engage the work critically. Lavender’s solution was a system based on Ecker’s five-step program, ORDER (observation, reflection, discussion, evaluation, revision). Student choreographers reported that they learned both from articulating criticism and from receiving analytical and aesthetic comments from their peers. Research on evaluation of choreography is reviewed by Hamalainen (2002), who proposes specific roles for both teachers and students. She also points to evidence that independent expert evaluators differ significantly from each other. An inference is that critiquing choreography has more value as an educative process for students than as a reliable assessment tool. A similar finding is reported in several music studies involving peer assessment of composition and performance (Daniel, 2004; Hunter & Russ, 1996; Searby & Ewers, 1997). Such innovations represent an alternative to the pass/fail of the senior recital experience. As did dancers and art students, the music students grew in their critical abilities through the process of evaluating their peers. Daniel raises an important question for future study: to what extent do students’ performances improve as a result of engaging in peer assessment?

In the Studio: How Does Teaching and Learning Occur? What actually transpires in the instructional setting of the studio remains difficult to quantify.12 Some research indicates that the focus is not particularly on student development. Bekkala notes, “As the study has shown, many current practices of the studio serve to focus upon the concept of art rather than the concept of the learner” (2001, p. 258). Several researchers have focused their attention on studio teachers. Inkster (1997) used interviews to compare methods and pedagogy of 12 outstanding trumpet teachers, including their approach to lesson structure, embouchure, transposition, and practice. In visual arts, James (1996) used case study to investigate the construction of meaning

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in a sculpture studio. She identified an instructional structure composed of assigned readings, instructor talk, slides of sculptures, studio time, and critique. In the studio phase students interacted with materials, with the instructors, and with each other. In the critique phase, students commented on each other’s work, as did the instructor. Students’ sculpture became the vehicle for learning creative process, aesthetics, and critical process (p. 156). Persson’s case study (1996) of a brilliant piano performer-turned-teacher describes the learning experience for nine of the teacher’s students. The teacher in this case had no formal training in education and therefore relied on what Persson described as “common sense.” Ultimately he concluded that the performer-teacher was not able to provide effective instruction for all students. Kennell (1989) observed instrumental music teachers and proposed a teacher attribution theory of scaffolding. That is, teachers’ preferred intervention is based on their attribution of why the student’s performance failed or succeeded. This theory was different from scaffolding theory as presented in general education literature, suggesting that music studio instruction has unique features. Another source of evidence regarding teaching and learning in the studio setting comes from student accounts of their understanding. Kostka (2002) found that music students’ expectations about the quality and quantity of individual practice between music lessons differ from those of their studio teachers. Goffi (1996) asked students to rate their studio voice instructors. Two main factors emerged as contributing to students’ learning, the teacher’s cognitive (technical and instructional knowledge) and interpersonal skills. Based on a comprehensive literature review and interviews with his own students, Jorgensen (2000) concluded that although teachers might be too dominant in lessons, “the opposite is the case for practicing behaviours [sic]. Here, paradoxically, the absence of a teacher’s influence, advice and discourse may limit the student’s development of independence and responsibility” (p. 73).

Reflections Why does the research literature look as it does? I offer three general observations. First, as college teachers, we are doing more than we are documenting. Through authoring textbooks, redesigning syllabi, programs of study, and the daily work of faculty with students, we are creating the lived curriculum for undergraduates. We share our knowledge through conference presentations, keynote speeches, and creative performances. The research article as defined for this chapter13 is only one way of disseminating knowledge in an arts community. Second, as a profession, we have given less scholarly attention to the study of our teaching than we have to our creative endeavors. This commentary from theater applies across the arts: It is one of the great ironies of theatre scholarship that what most of us do [teaching], few of us study. Why we should have neglected our own intellectual home as an area of research is puzzling-and also unexplored. Our scholarly neglect does

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not arise from indifference … Most of us signal in other ways our sense of the importance of our teaching: We think about it, talk about it, and strive to improve it. What we don’t do much is study it. Why? (Gillespie, 2004, p. ix) I propose a couple of answers to this question. The working reality for most arts faculty is that their first loyalties are to their creative lives as artists, then to their development as teachers and to scholarship on their art. Research on teaching comes a distant fourth. As well, the arts disciplines have a relatively young history in academe, and there are a limited number of research- intensive institutions where the scholarship of teaching and learning might reasonably be expected. I return later to possible remedies for this set of circ*mstances. A third general observation is that there is considerable variation in research on specific topics according to discipline. Coverage is partly a result of numbers of faculty and university departments. In North America, the number of accredited institutions tells the tale: music – 610; dance – 60; theater – 135; art – 248.14 Art and music generally have a longer history in the academy; thus there is a larger body of research from music and art than from theater and dance. Coverage also results from scholars’ choice in where to focus their attention: on students; on knowledge and skills to be learned; on pedagogical method; on teachers, and so on. In general, the student voice and student responses to the curriculum offered in higher education, is still largely under-studied in the arts.15

Missions and Traditions There appears to be no consensus about the purpose of the arts across or even within disciplines. I suggest that curricular values represent a continuum, with conservation/preservation of tradition at one end, and innovation/deconstruction of tradition at the other. Schools of music are generally at the conservative end while visual art is at the other; dance and theater fall somewhere between depending on individual department philosophies. Performing a canon of masterworks and analyzing and writing music based on eighteenth-century models remain hallmarks of most music curricula.16 The bulk of researchers’ suggestions for reforming music content typically represent additions to the canon of Western music literature. As Hays puts it, While there are a few curricular innovations on the horizon, most seem to center on assimilating new technologies rather than attempting to revise the core curriculum by injecting jazz or world music idioms, let alone a popular music component. Changing technology is far easier than changing ideology. (1999, p. 227) In contrast, the problem for the art curriculum is not what belongs in the canon, but rather of defining art itself.17 According to Singerman, “the problem of definition is at the heart of the artist’s education because it is the formative and defining problem of recent art. Artists are made by troubling over it, by taking it seriously” (1999, p. 3). Ritchie, writing in 1966, identified this approaching change in the art curriculum, as painting and sculpture depend less and less on stabilized traditional techniques, and the term “art” becomes correspondingly less restrictive as an evaluative term,

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the function of education for the “pure” arts, in a traditional sense, becomes increasingly less capable of precise definition. (p. 83) In this environment, “What is it that artists do?” becomes a defining question, and the role of visiting artists as models for professional behavior becomes singularly important for art curricula. Without an ‘old masters’ set of criteria for evaluating excellence, students must rely heavily on critique from their individual instructors. This is perhaps why the subject of the critique has drawn considerable attention from art researchers and relatively little from their counterparts in music. Some commonalities are evident regarding the current status of higher education arts programs today, struggling for survival in an increasingly chilly fiscal environment. All four disciplines as they evolved on campuses had to overcome the perception that they are decorative and therefore expendable, enriching but not essential. The efforts being made to justify their continuing existence in higher education in the twenty-first century take at least three forms. First is the development of community partnerships. Along with many other disciplines, the arts are undertaking teaching, production, and research projects with partners outside of academe. These include initiatives such as theater in prisons programs, museum-based art projects, music in community centers, and so on. Second is increasing specialization within the arts. One means of claiming legitimacy for a discipline is that it offers unique and essential knowledge, not available elsewhere in the university. Since overlap and duplication are likely to be cut, disciplines are scrambling to protect their intellectual individuality. The proliferation of journals, special topic conferences, and scholarly special interest research groups attest to this phenomenon in the arts as elsewhere in higher education. A third justification for arts curricula proposes a new kind of knowledge claim. Since cognition and research are the legitimate and overt values of the academy, artists are articulating how what they do aligns with those values. The claim is twofold: that the arts constitute an essential way of knowing the world, evidenced by new courses in visual literacy on the one hand, and reference to theories such as embodied cognition on the other, and a related claim that creative work in the arts is itself a form of scholarly research (Alexander, 2002; Pakes, 2003; Sullivan, 2004, 2005).

Future Directions Earlier I listed some practical answers to Gillespie’s question: Why don’t we study our own practice as teachers? But a better question for the twenty-first century is: What conditions are necessary for faculty to conduct research on their students’ learning? To engage a community of scholars in this kind of inquiry, changes are needed in institutional reward systems, in disciplinary thinking, and in the enculturation of the next generation of scholar-artist-teachers into the academy. Fortunately, there are signs that academic culture is evolving in this direction. In North America, the growth of campus centers for enhancing college teaching is an indication that excellent teaching is recognized in the university reward structure. The work of the Carnegie Foundation has helped give legitimacy to research on college teaching and to increase venues for

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publication of results.18 A landmark for the arts is the award in the United Kingdom of a £4.5 million grant from the Higher Education Funding Council to conduct research specifically on teaching and learning in theater, dance, and music technology.19 The International Society for Scholarship of Teaching and Learning is working through various disciplinary associations to incorporate a college teaching track into conferences and journals.20 An example is the Mid America Theater Conference which includes a pedagogy symposium as one of its major elements. Here is an excerpt from their call for papers: We have come a long way from a time when pedagogy was a separate discipline focused primarily on the teaching of theatre in K-12, or in children’s theatre companies or youth theatre programs, to the present day where we see pedagogical theory integrated into the fiber of every course syllabus as well as such non-traditional uses as departmental planning.21 I conclude with the assertion that scholarship in teaching and learning is needed to give substance to such a vision, where pedagogical theory is integrated into all aspects of curriculum and instruction. As long as teaching remains a private affair within studio and classroom walls, we will not advance our knowledge as a profession. We know that the development of individual artists benefits greatly from their study of the achievements of predecessors and contemporaries. We need to develop in the professoriate a similar tradition of individual innovation and communal sharing, wedding systematic research with artistic sensibility. Both are essential if we are to gain a deep understanding of how students learn in the arts.

Notes 1. While there are some notable cross-disciplinary journals such as International Journal of Arts Education and Arts Education Policy Review, most of the research is domain-specific in its scope and intended audience. 2. In higher education the “arts” may also include film studies, creative writing, architecture, and environmental design. The definition here as performing and visual arts, excluding cinema studies from theater, mirrors usage in other chapters of this handbook. 3. North American publications include separate handbooks of research in music education (Colwell & Richardson, 2002) and art education (Eisner & Day, 2004). 4. See accrediting body information at http://www.arts-accredit.org/intro.jsp. 5. The term “students” in this section refers to primarily to undergraduate majors. Where noted, graduate students were also included in a study. 6. Extracted from IPEDS 2001–2002. U.S. Dept. of Education. accessed online March, 2005. This was the most recent report available at the time of writing. 7. In music, see Roberts (1993) and Pitts (2004) on the development of students’ self-identity in music schools. 8. An exception is the considerable research on students in teacher preparation programs in the arts, where student reflection is often prominent. 9. A Google search for preeminence/university/strategic plans calls up over 300,000 sites. 10. There are no parallel studies of what should be removed to make room for the new content. The “disposal problem in education,” inability to throw anything away, is ubiquitous.

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11. Imagine the luxury of a physics teacher giving an undergraduate one hour of individual attention and careful critique every week for 4 years! Yet this is the norm for music students. 12. A complete review of systematic research on studio instruction in music (Kennell, 2002) identifies four components of the system: novice learner, musical artifacts (etudes, repertoire, teacher-made material on the spot) teacher expertise, and lesson interactions. Only the last of these deals with the nature of instruction as such. 13. Evidence-based, peer reviewed, and published reports of systematic inquiry. 14. Numbers accessed online at www.arts-accredit.org October 2005. 15. As noted earlier, art and music education have a significant body of research on students in the college years. 16. An exception is Berklee School of Music in Boston, dedicated to study of contemporary music including popular idioms. 17. For a passionate rejection of this trend, see “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Mess” (Fendlich, 2005). 18. See the Carnegie Foundation for the advancement of teaching and learning. http://www.carnegiefoundation.org/ourwork/prof-grad.htm and the National Teaching and Learning Forum http://www. ntlf.com/. 19. See DeMontfort University http://www.dmu.ac.uk/faculties/humanities/news/humanities/cetl/ . 20. http://www.bsu.edu/web/cfa/ATHE/ represents an example under construction. Conference papers on theater pedagogy are archived here. 21. http://www.wiu.edu/matc/

References Alexander, B. (2002). Intimate engagement: student performances as scholarly endeavor. Theatre Topics, 12(1), 85–98. Alexander, C. (1997). Relationships between community music programs and their affiliated collegiate music schools. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Peabody College for Teachers of Vanderbilt University. Anthony, K. (1991). Design juries on trial: the renaissance of the design studio. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold. Atlas, G., Taggart, T., & Goodell, D. (2004). The effects of sensitivity to criticism on motivation and performance in music students. British Journal of Music Education, 21(1), 81–87. Barnes, J., Project Director. (1999). Making music work: professional integration project; fostering professional skills among those studying music in higher education. London, UK: Royal College of Music. Barrett, T. (1988). A comparison of the goals of studio professors conducting critiques and art education goals for teaching criticism. Studies in art education, 30(Fall), 22–27. Barrett, T. (2000). Studio critiques of student art: As they are, as they could be with mentoring. Theory into Practice, 39(1), 28–35. Barrett, T. (2004). Investigating art criticism in education: An autobiographical narrative. In E. Eisner & M. Day (Eds.), Handbook of research and policy in art education (pp. 725–749). Mahweh, NJ: National Art Education Association: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Beck, J., & Appel, M. (2003). Shaping the future of postsecondary dance education through service learning: An introductory examination of the ArtsBridge model. Research in dance education, 4(2), 103–125. Bekkala, E. (2001). The development of artists at Rhode Island School of Design. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Columbia University Teachers College. Bell, E. (1996). American musical theater songs in the undergraduate vocal studio: A survey of current practice, guidelines for repertoire selection, and pedagogical analyses of selected songs. Dissertation Abstracts International, A57/06 p. 2406. Berkeley, A. (2004). Changing views of knowledge and the struggle for undergraduate theatre curriculum, 1900–1980. In A. Fliotsos & G. Medford (Eds.), Teaching theatre today: Pedagogical views of theatre in higher education (pp. 7–30). New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

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