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Intense interrogation of my beliefs and assumptions as well as close

examination of the intersection of my teaching practices with the theories we

have studied the last eight weeks have been the hallmarks of my journey into

acting and reflecting on what it means to take an inquiry stance on a literacy

classroom. Until this past summer, I had never considered how theory might

inform my practice and how practice could inform my views and interpretations

of theories. I have engaged in both reflection and action over the last five years

of my teaching career, but until recently, I have not reflected with a critical

consciousness or critical lens. Our ideologies and theories of education are the

prism through which we should view our classroom practices; we must scrutinize

our practices, even our most valued and cherished beliefs about teaching, to

grow as teachers and create a space for learning that values all voices. At the

beginning of the semester, Dewey’s discussion about forming a sound philosophy

of education struck me hard like a bucket of cold water; after reading Dewey, I

reflected that “Thus, it is important to have a well-developed philosophy of

education as this is your “north star” while you are chartering new territories in

teaching and learning with more progressive or newer methods.” The question,

“Why am I doing this?” must be at the center of my thinking when I am thinking

about my teaching practices. My immersion into our culture of inquiry, our

readings, and the dialogue among class members are shaping what was once an

amorphous and nebulous idea about inquiry into something with shape and form

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like a piece of clay. In early September I noted these observations about Dewey

and Rosenblatt:

On p. 39, Dewey states that “Experience does not go on simply inside a person.” In this paragraph, I am reminded of Rosenblatt’s idea that meaning is not resident in the reader or the text, but that instead, meaning is created in the transaction between the two. Dewey believes that the meaning of the experience is created between the transaction that occurs between a person and the external conditions or objective conditions in which the experience takes place. This idea is reinforced on p. 43 when Dewey says, “An experience is always what it is because of a transaction taking place between an individual and what, at the time, constitutes his environment…”(Dewey, pp. 39-43, 1938). Through transactions with texts, class dialogue, and class activities, my meaning

making of what an inquiry stance would look like in a literacy classroom has been

created in a transactive manner, and this meaning making will continue to evolve

over time as my “linguistic reservoir”, experiences, and transactions with

“dialogic threads” shape my learning. My primary questions this semester are:

• What does it mean to take an inquiry stance on a literacy classroom? • What does inquiry look like in a K-6 classroom (or any Language Arts

classroom?) • How does an inquiry stance intersect with a critical literacy practices in a

Language Arts classroom? Freire, Rosenblatt, Bakhtin, Dewey, and hooks seem to be affecting my working

definitions of inquiry so far; I am intrigued by Vygotsky, but I honestly think I

need to read more about his ideas and theories before I can decide how his

ideas play into my working definition of inquiry.

Taking an inquiry stance in a literacy classroom means creating an

environment that is learning centered. Our meaning making is the cumulative

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result of the transactions that occur between ourselves and the text, amongst

ourselves and others, and between ourselves and our “dialogic threads”; this

belief is supported by Bakhtin’s assertion that “Understanding and response are

dialectically merged and mutually condition each other; one is impossible without

the other” (Bakhtin, p. 282, 1981). Taking an inquiry stance means focusing on

student questions and generating curriculum from those questions rather than

following a dead and rigid curriculum that values a “banking system of

education” as described by Freire in Chapter 2 of Pedagogy of the Oppressed.

When we focus classroom learning around students’ needs and questions, we

can create educational experiences that value all voices and build a sense of

community. By taking a problem-posing approach to teaching and learning, we

can use inquiry to disrupt the discourses that oppress certain groups and

privilege particular ways of knowing. Anyone who takes an inquiry stance on

literacy must realize that the endeavor is not a quick fix or easy path to follow;

quite often, the dominant discourses valued by administrators conflict with an

inquiry stance. Dewey warns us that “It is easier to walk in the paths that have

been beaten than it is, after taking a new point of view, to work out what is

practically involved in the new point of view” (Dewey, p.30, 1938). On the

surface, taking an inquiry stance might seem easy, but in reality, it requires the

teacher to be acutely present to the dynamics of her classroom and to be flexible

to follow the lead of where students’ questions and learning may take the class

rather than following a preconceived, neatly packaged lesson; Dewey tells us,

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“But the easy and simple are not identical. To discover what is really simple and

to act upon the discovery is an exceedingly difficult task” (pg. 30).

Unfortunately, many teachers find it easy to follow the worn paths and never

engage in praxis or critical thinking about their philosophy and pedagogies. Even

worse, this acquiescence and unwillingness to engage in critical consciousness is

often valued by administrators who want to maintain the power structure. Karen

Cadiero-Kaplan sees the oppressive nature of a school environment and

curriculum that value functional and cultural literacies; schools that value the

ideologies inherent in functional and cultural models of literacy “…prepare

students for positions of power and reject individual experiences while

discrediting or ignoring the influences of popular cultures, ethnic cultures, and

racially diverse cultures. This elitist ideology deems alternative cultural and

linguistic discourse communities with a society as illiterate because literacy is

based solely on the basis of knowing and being able to converse, read, and write

about those topics that make one literate” (p.376, 2002).

So what might inquiry look like in K-6 Language Arts/Reading classroom?

Paula Rogovin, a first grade teacher at the New Manhattan School in New York

City, creates her curriculum around student questions and interviews that

students conduct with community members as part of the inquiry process.

Questions are the foundation of Rogovin’s inquiry stance in her classroom; she

believes, “…it is that spirit of questioning that is the essence of inquiry and

research. I want my students to ask questions and more questions. I want

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them to thoughtfully examine the fabric of our society. Inquiry is at the center

of our curriculum” (Rogovin, p. 21, 1998). Through this inquiry approach to

literacy, she challenges assumptions and stereotypes while engaging students in

dialogue about issues and concepts important to them; at the same time, she

values the prior knowledge each child brings to the learning community.

Rogovin understands the importance of Rosenblatt’s concept of the linguistic

reservoir; she maintains, “ …when the children know I will ask about their prior

knowledge, they think more actively. Children are then empowered to teach

each other and their teacher”(Rogovin, p. 73, 1998). In her inquiry based

classroom, “The teacher is no longer merely the-one-who-teaches, but one who

is himself taught in dialogue with the students, who in turn while being taught

also teach”(Freire, p. 80, 2000). Students thinking for themselves is valued in

this kind of classroom; Freire maintains, “Producing and acting upon their own

ideas---not consuming those of others---must constitute that process” (Freire, p.

108, 2000). In this literacy classroom, the students and teachers are both

authorities of knowledge and the work of the class/learning community.

Rosenblatt’s transactional theory of reading and learning supports an inquiry

stance on literacy; in such a classroom, she asserts, “The teacher in such a

classroom is no longer simply a conveyor of ready-made teaching materials and

recorder of results of ready-made tests or a dispenser of ready-made

interpretations. Teaching becomes constructive, facilitating

interchange…”(Rosenblatt, p. 1034, 1994). In addition, this inquiry based

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classroom uses their questions and answers as the springboard for instruction in

other subject areas; thus, the curriculum is seamless and interdisciplinary rather

than fragmented. Students see the relevance of their inquiry in all disciplines.

How does an inquiry stance intersect with a critical literacy practices in a

Language Arts classroom? Lewison, Flint, and Van Sluys define four dimensions

of critical literacy: disrupting the commonplace, interrogating multiple

viewpoints, focusing on sociopolitical issues, and taking action and promoting

social justice (p. 382, 2002). Karen Cadiero-Kaplan asserts that when defining

the concept of what it means to be “literate”, we must examine the ideologies

and theories that inform our definition of “literate” and how that translates into

our practices because “…what it means to be a ‘literate’ person is based on an

ideological construct that is inherently political” (p.373, 2002). Until this year, I

must sadly admit that I was not looking at my teaching practices through a lens

of critical literacy. Now, as I struggle to engage in this kind of praxis, I find

myself challenging my own assumptions and biases about teaching and learning

as well as those of my students. Although my school climate is not conducive to

a challenging of the “status quo”, I am attempting to nudge my students in

critical dialogue through an inquiry stance in my classroom.

Last week, Jill Hermann-Wilmarth’s group remarked in their critical literacy

group summary that “…my praxis is leading me into some "dangerous" thinking

and in another class political activism is a part of the syllabus. Praxis in critical

theory has the ability to be dangerous. Now the definition and severity of danger

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is defined depending on what side of the oppressed/oppressor binary in which

one falls. But it is all worthless without praxis. Am I willing to devote myself to

living a dangerous life?” (October 11, 2002). The works of bell hooks and Freire

address these very questions as we look at the intersection of inquiry and critical

literacy. On pp. 48-49, I was struck by the idea that the value of being

revolutionary lies in the daily work (praxis)---action and reflection---not an

abstract idea of being revolutionary. This idea is repeated on p. 54 when she

says that “…our lives, our work, must be an example” (hooks, p. 48-54, 1994).

Freire champions the concept of praxis and continual critical reflection and action

when he asserts, “For apart from inquiry, apart from the praxis, individuals

cannot be truly human. Knowledge emerges only through invention and

reinvention, through the restless, impatient, continuing, hopeful inquiry human

beings pursue in the world, with the world, and with each other”(Freire, p. 72,

2000). I am trying to be political and revolutionary in my work, but many times,

I feel as though I am fumbling along as I strive to stay true to my principles, but

at other times, feel guilty for acquiescing to school mandated practices that do

not teach anything of value and are geared toward a test that privileges certain

groups who have the “cultural capital.”

Dr. Michelle Commeyras echoes this need to be political and self-interrogative

by viewing ourselves as political and to consider if society is making us

something we no longer want to be (Commeyras, pp. 130-131, 2002). However,

it is not just what we do in our classrooms that we should examine, but what we

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do not say or teach; Commeyras points out that “We tend to think that we are

being political only when we do something controversial. But what we do not

say and do not teach also represents a political stance. If we want to be viewed

as intellectuals, then we must be aware of the politics of our teaching

practices”(Commeyras, p. 130, 2002). These views reflect many of the issues

raised in our last two class discussions about Freire, what a Freireian classroom

would like, and the issues we might encounter as we attempt to engage in our

praxis. Many times it does challenge the accepted hierarchy and privileged

values, and we have to be willing to ask the hard questions not just of others,

but also of our ourselves. At first this critical self-interrogation can be difficult;

no one wants to believe that they could be the oppressor of someone else, but if

we are to grow and move forward along the continuum of learning, we must

engage in this reflection and action.

How does this intersection of inquiry and critical inquiry translate into practice

for me? As someone beginning to embark on viewing her classroom and

teaching practices with a critical literacy lens, I need to examine if my reading

and writing workshop activities as well as efforts at teaching from an inquiry

stance are reflective of the four domains of critical literacy. Am I choosing

critical texts and connecting literature discussions with the issues that may

develop from students’ transactions with those texts? Are we disrupting the

norm? Are students’ questions the focal point of our inquiry? Am I oppressing

or privileging certain groups? How do I know? As Dr. Robert Probst points out,

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“Culturally established norms become so deeply ingrained in consciousness that

they come to seems as substantial and immutable as physical reality

itself”(Probst, p. 67, 1988).

For me, a significant way to engage in praxis and to engage in a critical

examination of my teaching practices is to conduct teacher action research

throughout the year; it needs to become a seamless part of my instruction and

teaching practices. Through teacher action research, I can reflect on notes on

what I observe in my classroom, examine student work, reflect on classroom

dialogue, and look at patterns in the classroom dynamics with a critical lens.

Like Dr. Betty Bisplinghoff, I can use action research to resist banking-model

curriculum and mandates and justify an inquiry, critical literacy stance. Right

now, I am feeling what Bisplinghoff felt when she began teaching in a new

school district that did not value problem-posing, inquiry based learning. In her

first year in this new district, she shares the struggles, fears, and uncertainties

she felt as she attempted to stay true to her transactive view of language and

learning in a school climate that valued shallow pre-packaged programs that

emphasized fundamental and cultural literacy rather than a progressive or critical

literacy; I identify with Bisplinghoff's memories of feeling isolated and

overwhelmed when she asks, “How could I someday enter into their dialogues as

one who understood their perceived pressures and discuss alternative stances

that stood a sincere chance of being considered rather than discounted as simply

just too far afield” (Bisplinghoff, p. 120, 2002)? Bisplinghoff chose to examine

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her own practices and to challenge the status quo through action research and

purposeful, thoughtful reflection; in a sense, her own praxis was an act of

inquiry. I see action research as both an integral part of my own praxis as well

as a form of resistance to the oppressive practices that seem so prevalent in my

current teaching environment. In addition, action research allows me to be

political by critically examining my own classroom practices. Action research will

be an ongoing stance of inquiry for me as I know more questions will arise out of

my praxis. As Bisplinghoff notes, her action research allowed her to disrupt

Dewey’s notion of “inertia of habit”(p. 127, 2002).

In conclusion, an inquiry stance on literacy means asking critical questions of

ourselves, our students, and the practices of our schools. By engaging in action

research, I can critically examine how theory and practice intersect in my

classroom. I hope this inquiry of my own teaching practices will mirror an

inquiry stance in my classroom where my students and I can engage in critical

dialogue through questioning and the creation of a learning community that

values all voices. Our study of the various theorists has caused me to take a

hard look at what I am doing and ask myself, “Why am I doing this?”, an

essential question that we should constantly ask ourselves.

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References

Bakhtin, M. (1981). Discourse in the novel. In The Dialogic Imagination: Four

essays by M.M. Bakhtin (pp. 259-422). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press.

Bisplinghoff, B. (2002). Teacher planning as responsible resistance. Language

Arts, 80, 119-128. Commeyras, M. (2002). Provocative questions that animate my thinking about

teaching. Language Arts, 80, 129-133. Dewey, J. (1938). Experience and education. New York: Collier/Macmillan. Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum. Hermann-Wilmarth, J. (Personal e-mail, October 11, 2002). hooks, b. (1994). Paulo Freire. In Teaching to transgress: Education as the

practice of freedom, (pp. 45-58). New York: Routledge. Kaplan-Cadiero, K. (2002). Literacy ideologies: Critically engaging the language

arts curriculum. Language Arts, 79, 372-381. Retrieved September 12, 2002 from http://www.ncte.org/la/LA0795TOC.shtml .

Lewison, M., Flint, A., and Van Sluys, K. (2002). Taking on critical literacy: The

journey of newcomers and novices. Language Arts, 79, 382-392. Retrieved September 12, 2002 from http://www.ncte.org/la/LA0795TOC.shtml .

Probst, R. (1988). Response and analysis: Teaching literature in junior and

senior high school. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Rogovin, P. (1998). Classroom interviews: A world of learning. Portsmouth,

NH: Heinemann. Rosenblatt, L. (1994). The transactional theory of reading and writing. In R.

Ruddell, M. Ruddell, and H. Singers (Eds.). Theoretical models and processes of reading 4th edition (pp. 1057-1092). Newark, DE: IRA.