Community Education - Being an educator - tekst2.doc

Chapter 2             

Being an educator

1 wouldn't want people to associate the education we do with school, not because it is a bad thing, but because I wouldn't want people to get mixed up between the academic and the informal, or formal and informal education . . . People only know about one form of educa­tion. If someone said to me 'what do you think of education?' I would think of schools and colleges ... So many people have nega­tive feelings about education.

This local educator is not alone in defining her work against schooling -but what exactly is her 'form' of education? Locality and local knowledge bring a special dimension, but is there anything else distinctive about the shape of such workers' practice? Here I want to report on some of the themes that have emerged in my conversations with local educators around these questions. These include having a regard for:

- choice;

- voice;

- convivial settings for learning;

- reflection on experience;

- conversation and interaction;

- education as a fully human activity.

1 cannot claim that all or many workers share these interests exactly in this way, but I can argue that these concerns provide a useful starting point for exploration. By engaging with these we can better name and shape our practice. Taken together, they do hint at a distinctive form - one that is

Being an educator    23

centred around being and interaction - but it is not unique to local education. What I also hope to show is that we need to move beyond simple oppositions, and to reflect on what we mean by 'selfhood' and

'learning'.

Choice

Words like 'chance', 'choice', 'opportunity7' and 'possibility' recur time and again in the conversations and writings of local educators (see, for example, Flynn et at, 1986; Jeffs and Smith 1987; and Poster and Kruger 1990). As one worker put it, 'there are choices but these people are never really shown those choices. They are just sucked into things or they are not given space to think. This concern connects with an attention to relationships between people. It entails a simple premise: that if people are to learn that they have, and can make, choices, it is important that they are in conversations by choice. As Gibbs (1989: 54) has argued in respect of youth work, the main plank is consent: 'Young people choose whether or not they will engage in a relationship with a worker, which worker, and at what speed the relationship will develop.' In adult educa­tion, too, voluntary participation is promoted as a basic principle (Cross 1992). People should engage in learning as a result of their own volition. 'It may be that the circumstances prompting this learning are external to the learner (job loss, bereavement), but the decision to learn is the learn­er's. Hence excluded are those settings in which adults are coerced, bullied or intimidated into learning' (Brookfield 1986: 9-10).

It is easy to fall into crude contrasts between schooling where attend­ance is compulsory and other settings where people 'choose' to be. To move on we have to attend to the experiences and perceptions of those involved. For example, as Blackburn and Blackburn (1990) have shown with regard to residential social work, because people have to be in certain settings this does not mean that there can be no space for choice in learning. The requirement to be in a place does not necessarily imply a demand to do certain activities or learn particular things. Furthermore, the 'voluntary principle', applied in a crude way, can lead to elitism. For example, it can be argued that the result of relying on learners to articu­late their demands has been that education in many southern countries has reached only a small and socially discrete sector of the population (Rogers 1992: 42), We should examine the quality of the relationships and how questions of content and outcome are resolved before dismissing those programmes which attempt to compel attendance.

One key device used by workers to handle questions of choice is the making of implicit or explicit contracts. We can see how these are formed in this account of a worker who was funded to work with offenders.

I explained a little bit about the group, told the young people where I got the money from and arranged to meet on the Tuesday . . . The

first session would be going off to McDonald's a having a chat and that's where our very informal contract was drawn up. I didn't use the word 'contract', 1 can't remember the terminology I used, it was something like 'let's sort things out, how we are going to run this group'. And the issues which came up first were drugs and were the contents of the programme: 'what's in it for us, what are we going to get out of it?'

The group developed its own programme, and negotiated the 'rules' with the worker. As the worker put it:

They are actually setting the boundaries and saying you don't over­step this and we won't overstep that. I think that it is important to let people know what you are about and let them tell you what they are about and take the relationship or take the group from there.

However, these people were in a situation where, although they could choose not to attend, there were various external pressures (from the social work agency and the courts) for them to do so. By making a 'con­tract', questions around this were approached and space for choices carved out.

Voice

Closely linked to the idea of choice is that of voice.

When you watch television, read the papers and listen to what poli­ticians say, you only get part of the story, you only get the views of a small group of people. Look at the books they are recommending for the National Curriculum - they are mostly by men and just about all the writers are white. There is a whole world of experience out there that doesn't get a look in and the result is that people do not get a proper chance to explore who they are and what thev may be. [F]

People do not come to conversations on an equal footing. They bring histories and identities which have been deeply inscribed by social forces. The experience of being members of particular classes, cultures or races: and the pressures and expectations which people feel because of their body, gender and sexuality, interact and are at work in such exchanges. Educators must, therefore, look to questions of identity and power.

Over the years I have tried to replace the external definitions of my life forwarded by dominant groups with my own self-defined standpoint... I now know that my experiences are far from unique. Like African-American women, many others who occupy societally denigrated categories have been similarly silenced. So the voice 1

now seek is both      lividual and collective, personal and political, one reflecting the unique biography with the larger meaning of my

historical times.

(Collins 1990: xi-xii)

Working with people to name themselves in this way, to 'gain a voice', forms a fundamental strand of local education practice. There is a long history of work which is grounded in the experiences of excluded groups and movements (Lovett 1988).

When we turn to these developments it is clear that 'voice' is not only a matter of speech, but also has to do with how people are seen and heard. Excluded groups tend to become a powerful motif in the minds of the dominators. They are viewed both as a threat to order - politically, socially and sexually - and as existing for the benefit of the powerful. Examples abound: the Victorian bourgeoisie's concern with the emerging working class (see Pearson 1975).; the development of slavery in the Brit­ish Empire (Fryer 1988); and the domestication of women (Oakley 1982). All involve simultaneously defining a group as a 'problem' and casting them as 'objects rather than subjects, beings that feel yet have the ability to think, and remain incapable of considered behaviour in an active mode' (Gilroy 1987: 11). This process involves a simple either/or distinction -something is not just different, it is opposed. As Collins (1990: 69) put it, whites and blacks, males and females,  thought and feeling, are not complementary counterparts but opposites. In this the opposing group is seen not as people but as the 'Other' - a dangerous phenomenon to be

controlled.

As soon as we move beyond the language of either/or we have to live with uncertainty. We can begin to attend to the experiences of those who are excluded and those seeking to exclude; the relationships between them; the context in which these are formed; and our place in all this. To engage with the politics of difference and the forces that feed simplistic oppositions is not to act in the belief that we are 'all the same under the skin'. Rather it is to recognize and celebrate diversity,_while at the same time looking for what we hold in common. The danger with an emphasis or; difference is that we focus on particular groups and cultures we begin to see them as self-contained, and so ignore the 'blurred zones' between them (Rosaldo 1993: 209). Yet these blurred zones or borderlands are central to our lives and hold within them considerable possibility (Giroux 1992). As Anzaldua has argued with regard to the experience of Chicanos, "the new mestizo? (person of mixed ancestry) copes by developing a toler­ance for contradictions, for ambiguity.

She learns to be Indian in Mexican culture, to be Mexican from an Anglo point of view. She learns to juggle cultures. She has a plural personality, she operates in pluralistic mode - nothing is thrust out, the good the bad the ugly, nothing rejected, nothing abandoned.

Not only does she sustain contradictions, she turns the ambivalence into something else.

(Anzaldua 1987: 79, quoted in Rosaldo 1993: 216) 'Turning ambivalence into something else' is a powerful phrase, especially when reading it as an educator. The 'something else' involves both having voice and engaging with other voices.

This is not always a pleasant experience. Working in the borderlands involves listening to, and meeting head on. much that we may despise. One group I am working with is very racist - but I feel it is important that I keep talking with them, that I hear what they are saying when they are being racist; that I allow them to say those things. It is perhaps easier because I am a white worker. I feel I have a re­sponsibility to work with that racism, not simply reject it. I still go and see the group . . . you try to work against these prejudices and the self-destructive things.

This is where it becomes difficult. To work in this way involves entertain­ing the possibility that there may be some truth in what, in this case, the members of the tenants' group are saying. But the 'truth' lies behind, or is enmeshed in, a tissue of feelings, prejudices and 'common-sense' expla­nations. We ask what is it about people's situations and experiences that leads them to their particular understanding. The politics of voice and difference entails something fundamental. To have something to say, people must address their experiences and identity and understand them­selves as 'active authors of their own words' (Giroux 1989: 199). It also means cultivating tolerance - respecting 'the other as what it is: other' (Derrida 1978: 138) - but that can only be gained if we work for justice and democracy at the same time.

Settings

The plan is to create an environment before, during and afterwards, where you can work with these kids. You can engage them in the kind of things they are thinking about and even in the things they are not thinking about. You try to set the environment. The settings in which local educators work do not, for the most part, resemble classrooms, but are often  'social' in character or arise out of direct encounters with the physical environment. Workers have to be sen­sitive to the feelings and responses that such settings evoke (Tiffany 1993). To a great extent, 'the setting dictates a large amount of the aims and objectives of the group and both directly and indirectly constrains the manner in which those aims can be achieved' (Douglas 1991: 118).

As educators we cannot change people's minds for them - nor should we wish to. 'We never educate directly, but indirectly by means of the environment. Whether we permit chance environments to do the work, or

Being an educator     27

whether we design environments lor the purpose makes a great differ­ence' (Dewey 1966: 19). One problem for local educators is that for much of the time they have to foster such environments within settings over which they have limited control.

If they were coming to the centre then I would do things to create an environment here that is friendly, welcoming and all those sorts of things. If I am going and doing things in their space then I am not going to necessarily alter that.

On the street, in people's homes or in the supermarket, workers' main points of intervention are likely to concern the social setting or context and the subject for conversation. There is little they can do about the physical setting. In contrast, when working in space which they manage, they can make use of the usual array of tools. There is no shortage of guidance for workers in this area. In youth work, for example, setting out rooms, the use of equipment and the design of settings have long formed part of the standard textbooks (see, for example, Russell and Rigby 1908: 40-32). As Brew put it:

A club is a community engaged in the task of educating itself. It therefore follows that a youth organization can meet anywhere. There are only three necessities - light, preferably the sort that cannot be turned off or blown out by the practical joker - warmth, and if you cater for boys this means a 'fug' - and comradeship.

(Brew 1943: 67)

Youth houses, clubs and projects usually reflect this with comfortable seating, different lighting textures, various leaflets, magazines, books and board games scattered around and so on. Care is also taken about the possible impact of both the structural and socio-cultural context. By 'struc­ture5 I mean the established roles and relationships, 'including operating procedures, shared beliefs, and norms' (Cornbleth 1990: 6). The sort of questions that can arise for workers here include how various activities are administered; how order is kept and by whom. I am taking the socio-cukural context as something wider and as including social, political and economic conditions, traditions and ideologies and events that actually or potentially influence interactions,

However, a concern for setting can go beyond facilitating interaction; it may move into stimulating the senses. Within local education there is a strong tradition of encouraging people to enter new situations and set-tings. This may range from visits to theatres and art galleries, through trips to cities and other countries, to use of the outdoor environment. The latter has been a key aspect of most youth movements, whether out of a concern for health, both physical and mental - for example, in the girls' clubs of the late nineteenth century (see Stanley 1890) - or to further manliness, independence and self-reliance (Baden-Powell 1909: 56). It has

also been a feature of work with adults and of ??? organization in the United Kingdom - for example, the cycling touring clubs associated with

churches and Sunday schools in the 1870s; and the Co-operative Holidays Associations in the 1890s (Kelly 1970: 195-215).

For adult educators detailed advice was a later innovation. Discussions have been an aspect of provision in the United Kingdom since the days of the mutual improvement societies and the start of university extension in the mid-nineteenth century (Kelly 1970: 221). However, it is only with a growing appreciation of the way groups function that setting has been properly attended to. Thinking about group work as a method really began to take off in the United States in the 1930s, and owed much to the work of Coyle (1930) and others (see Lieberman 1939). It was enhanced in the 1940s by work on  the functioning of small groups  (see, for example, Lewin 1947; 1948; Homans 1951). Insights from these studies found their way into adult education texts. Notions such as 'realness', acceptance and empathy were also creeping in via counselling and especially the work of Rogers  (1942;  1965).  Knowles  (1950:  33), for example, looked  to the creation of favourable physical conditions and friendly and informal cli­mates as basic principles of adult teaching. By the 1970s, substantial sections are devoted to such topics as seating arrangements and atmosphere (Rogers 1977: 101-5).

In all this it is helpful for educators to have a certain humility. Their work on the physical environment, the impact they may have through work on the structural and socio-cultural context, and their participation in situations can be significant. However, much of the strength of local education lies in the ability of educators to be participants, to involve themselves in the action without becoming an overwhelming point of reference. The value lies in the total experience, in the interactions and activities - and in the feelings and understandings that people have. Educators and learners, alike, are active agents in the situation.

What is fascinating about all this is the extent to which the links and parallels with schooling are now largely unacknowledged in the literature (and the conversations I have with local educators). Yet behind much of this writing lies the hand of Dewey. Coyle drew extensively on his work (Reid 1981: 113); Rogers was deeply influenced by his follower, Kilpatrick (Thorne 1992: 104); and Lindeman was both his friend and his disciple (Stewart 1987: 136-49). While Dewey may have stood outside or beyond the main protagonists in the struggle for the American curriculum (Kliebard 1987) and had limited overt influence on debates in British schooling, there can be no doubting his impact on adult education theorists (Elias and Merriam 1980: 68). Similarly, to understand outdoor work, we have to look to the influence of Rousseau and the Romantics; the New School Movement; and the pioneering work of Pestalozzi, Froebel and Montessori (Putnam 1990: 23). Many of the elements at work in organizing a primary school classroom can be directly transferred to working with youth or adult groups. We might look to the physical design and layout (see, for

being an educator    29

example, Stewart l9oo: 29-62); the impact of context on relationships (Kutnick 1988); or how group work might be initiated and sustained (Galton and Williamson 1992). Running through all this is a shared con­cern: how do educators intervene in settings so that a better environment for learning is created? By failing to explore practice that lies beyond traditional occupational boundaries much can be lost.

Experiences and situations

I start worrying about my own children growing up here when you come in contact a lot with the drugs and the thieving that supports the drugs. Or you are talking to young people that have been in trouble or whatever, and there is no learning . . . But usually that's balanced by others who have suddenly grabbed hold of something or suddenly had an opportunity ... It is experiences rather than activities. A new experience can usually draw things out.

I have been struck just how my conversations with local educators are littered with references to experience - mine, theirs and others'. In many respects these are the starting point for workers' efforts. As Lindeman ar­gued in respect of adult education, their approach is via situations rather than subjects. 'Every adult person finds himself in specific situations with respect to his work, his recreation, his family-life, his community-life, et cetera - situations which call for adjustments. Adult education begins at this point' (Lindeman 1989: 6). Here we can see echoes of the Progressives' epithet that 'we teach children, not subjects' (Brookfield 1987a: 6). How­ever, there are important differences - for while local educators may begin with situations, their response may not be to build a curriculum. There are moments when they set up special projects that are, in effect, curriculum-based or when they take on a more didactic role but, for much of the time, the concern of the workers I talk with is to move with the questions and interests of the learners.

Local education involves learning 'that occurs as a direct participation in the events of life' (Houle 1980: 22). As such it is a refinement of the processes that we all go through. We all have to think about, and learn from, our experiences of daily living (Jarvis 1992: 3-16). Local educators can try to enlarge these experiences by encouraging people to take up new activities and by working with people to come to a deeper under­standing. To do this they often set up specific opportunities, such as camping trips, residentials and so on. The various decisions and inter­actions involved in such projects can provide rich pickings:

The activity and skills learning is just one small part. Living together, making decisions, dealing with the elements, dealing with disputes that happen when people get on top of each other. Making decisions about what we are going to eat. . . There is so much to talk about.

Figure 2.1: Experiential learning (after Kolb

1984:

It may also involve workers in encouraging people to undertake self-directed learning projects such as visiting museums, reading specialist magazines or following a series of television documentaries. These can be seen as deliberate and focused efforts to gain and retain definite knowledge and skill that involve some commitment of time (Tough 1993: 58-60). Research such as that of Sargant (1991) reveals that a significant number of people are engaged in such self-education efforts.

In recent years, there has been a growing awareness of what educators outside schools must do if they are to engage with experience. Much of this has arisen under the guise of 'experiential learning' and particularly through the influence of writers and trainers who have taken up the work of Kolb (1976; 1984). The model most usually associated with him was drawn from the work of Lewin (1951). In this, people begin by carrying out an action. They then observe the effects of this action in a given situation and attempt to understand them. The third step involves gen­eralizing and understanding the principle under which the situation falls. This may not involve putting the understanding fully into words. When the general principle is understood, the last step is its application through action in a new circumstance within the range of generalization. In some accounts these steps (or ones like them) are shown as a circular movement. In others, to show learning has taken place, the process is shown as a spiral - because the action takes place in new circumstances and  the learner is better able to anticipate the possible effects of action. We can see the simple circle in Figure 2.1.

Two aspects were seen as especially noteworthy: the use of concrete. 'here-and-now' experience to test ideas; and feedback to change practices and theories (Kolb 1984: 21-2). Kolb joins these with Dewey's emphasis on the developmental nature of the exercise, and with Piaget's appreci-adon of cognitive development. There are various criticisms that can be made of such models (see Jarvis 1987), hut there can be no denying their practical use and influence (Tennam 1988: 105; Thorpe e! al. 1993: 7).

Being an educator    31

The emphasis on experience does leave some questions about the role of what might be called 'information assimilation' (Coleman 1976) where material is transmitted from teacher to learner for use in future situations. Workers may need to brief groups on new housing legislation; take them through safety procedures for an outdoor activity; or provide information about different study opportunities. This links with a problem Freire recognized when talking with community educators in Scotland. A number defined themselves as facilitators. He argued with them:

I am an educator. I am not a facilitator. The act of teaching is not included in the concept of facilitation. As a teacher, I know I have things to teach. I don't need to feel ashamed. If a teacher says he is equal, he is incompetent, or trying to get some favour from the students. But being different from the students does not mean being authoritarian. It means being competent in order to get the respect and support of the students.

(Quoted by Kirkwood 1991: 43)

The problem here is that local educators may well develop an appreci­ation of their role in the context of 'counselling' and 'group work' and in so doing define themselves primarily as facilitators - seeing teaching as 'instrucdon'. For them, as for Rogers (1983: 228), 'teaching is a relatively unimportant and vastly overvalued activity'.

Conversation and interaction

Why come to see me? All I do is talk with young people.

Such has been the emphasis on activity and organizing things in commun­ity education, youth work and community work, that 'simply' sitting and talking with people is sometimes not seen ...