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This is to certify that the

dissertation entitled

Teaching and Learning Cooperation
Through Cooperative Group Learning:
A Case Study of a Fifth Grade Classroom

presented by

Sue Ann Holloway

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

 

PhD degree in Educat ion

WMW

I Major professor

F , 1
Date ebruary 22 991

 

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"Humans: we have been and are strange, willful creatures who in part
accept a given social and natural world, but in part struggle to
re-create that world through imagination and action...we think the most
fascinating part, the least measurable and least predictable part of the
human condition concerns the reinforcement or creation of meaning

through symbolic expression" (Ingersoll, Jr., 1987).

TEACHING AND LEARNING COOPERATION
THROUGH COOPERATIVE GROUP LEARNING:
A CASE STUDY OF A FIFTH GRADE CLASSROOM

BY

Sue Ann Holloway

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of Teacher Education

1991

ABSTRACT

TEACHING AND LEARNING COOPERATION THROUGH COOPERATIVE GROUP LEARNING:
A CASE STUDY OF A FIFTH GRADE CLASSROOM

BY

Sue Ann Holloway

This study examined how a teacher and her fifth grade classroom
made sense of trying to cooperate as students participated in academic
learning through cooperative group work. Its purpose was to increase
understanding about the potential successes as well as problems of CGL
in contributing to meaningful academic learning and to social learning
about communal aspects of human experience.

The study was based on ethnographic methods of participant
observation. Data included fieldnotes and audiotapes of students in
natural cooperative groups in the classroom, tapes of interviews and
class discussions, and samples of students' written work and other
projects. Units of analysis were utterances and behaviors of the
participants. The site was a multicultural classroom with an
experienced teacher dedicated to increasing awareness, understanding,
acceptance, and appreciation of others.

The study shows how the larger context of schooling, the implicit
hierarchic power structure of the classroom, and experiences of the
students outside the classroom influenced the teaching and learning of
what it meant to "cooperate." Students were pessimistic about
cooperation, which meant to them that a lesser power gives in to
coercion by a dominant power. They transferred this understanding to

CGL contexts, in which students' interpretations of cooperation often

assumed that it was more important to ”behave," or "comply," and finish
the work than to work together with peers. Students sometimes excluded
peers, concentrating on cooperating with the teacher rather than each
other. Alternatively, students sometimes utilized group structure to
resist academic engagement, focusing on expediency rather than
excellence in their learning.

The teacher's context included various constraints against teaching
cooperation in its ideal form. Standardization of the social studies
curriculum made it difficult to allow students time to work through
conflict or explore new ideas and reflect on social relationships. This
study raises curricular questions about learning as process versus
product. Describing the experience of one excellent teacher, I show the
difficulties of nontraditional or "adventuresome" teaching and trace her
attempts to make a paradigm shift from behaviorism, which assumes
learning is an individual endeavor, to social constructivism, which

assumes learning is social and communal.

Copyright by
SUE ANN HOLLOWAY

1991

Dedicated to my children, and to all the ”Houses" of my life who
believed in me and provided love and encouragement during the writing of
this dissertation.

 

 

 

By Noahh Alexander Gerard

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Although this study bears my name as author, many people
contributed significantly to my thinking and writing. I especially wish
to thank the people who guided me as a doctoral committee,

Douglas Campbell, Susan Melnick, Michael Sedlak, and David Dwyer. I '
learned from Doug Campbell, who directed the research and writing of
this dissertation, a great deal more than simply how to analyze data and
organize thoughts. He also showed me what it means to be a humane and
caring mentor for graduate students. Susan Melnick, as chairperson of
my doctoral studies, provided an unswerving support system from start to
finish. I will always appreciate her astute understanding of teachers,
students -- and of me! To Michael Sedlak, I owe thanks for advice on
high quality writing. David Dwyer's teaching about the relationship of
the person to society will continue to challenge my thinking long after
the completion of this dissertation.

I also wish to thank two members of my guidance committee,

Richard Navarro, and Joseph Spielberg-Benitez, from whom I learned a
great deal about issues of equity and international perspectives, and
Lee June, for personal support. Completing a dissertation involves much
more than simply thinking and writing; there were many other people who

helped me to sustain efforts in this arduous process including my

vi

parents, brothers and families, and many friends, including Gem Reid,
Diane Prouty, Paul Richardson, Julie Dueber, and Pat Mandenberg.
Finally, I thank Mrs. E. and the fifth graders who shared their

classroom and lives with me and made this study possible.

vii

List of Tables

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Figures

CHAPTER ONE:

CHAPTER TWO:

THE POTENTIAL OF COOPERATIVE GROUP LEARNING
TO ADDRESS FLAWS OF TRADITIONAL SCHOOLING
AND ACCOMMODATE NEW PARADIGM SHIFTS IN
TEACHING AND LEARNING

Overview

Problems with Traditional Schooling
Emerging Vision of Schooling

Cooperative Group Learning as a Response to
the Inadequate Effects of Traditional
Teaching/Learning

Classroom Culture

The Power Structure

The Role of Language and Communication in
Learning Cooperation

PROJECT DESCRIPTION
Project Overview
Research Orientation
Research Questions
Generalizeability
Data Collection

Confidentiality

viii

xi

xii

l7

18

26

30

30

48

SO

52

53

54

CHAPTER THREE:

CHAPTER FOUR:

CHAPTER FIVE:

Analysis

Interpretation: Potential Flaws
Additional Methodological Concerns
Researcher as Teacher

Specific Challenges

TEACHER, MEANING, AND POWER

Meanings Brought to the Learning Context by
the Teacher

Expanded Meanings: Reconciling the Ideal
with the Realities

Mrs. E.'s Changing Interpretations of Power,
Rights, and Obligations

Uncertainty

Conclusion

STUDENTS, COOPERATION, AND ACADEMICS
Previous Experiences with Cooperation

Enhancing Cooperation as Compliance:
Students as "Teacher Pleasers"

Collective Bargaining/Restrictions of
Academic Learning

Students' Depictions of Cooperation in Group
Stories After Two and a Half Months of CGL

Expanding Academic Learning:
Sharing/Intentional Learning

STUDENTS, CGL, AND SOCIAL ASPECTS OF
COOPERATION

Meeting Mrs. E.'s Goals: Increasing Peer
Awareness, Understanding, Appreciation

Students' Preconceptions of Intra-Societal
and Global Cooperation

ix

56

57

59

61

63

67

67

71

89

97

98

103

103

107

109

122

133

139

139

151

Student Responses to the Social Structure

Shut-outs and Rules for Communicative
Competency in CGL

Student Treatment of Conflict

Conclusion
Part 11;; Conclusions

CHAPTER SIX:

STANDARDIZATION AND POWER, ROLE DILEMMAS,

AND THE RIPPLE EFFECT IN TEACHING/LEARNING
COOPERATION: CGL AS THE POTENTIAL WOLF IN

SHEEP'S CLOTHING?

Whatever Happened to the 'Delightful
Adventure'? How Standardization of the
Curriculum Affected CGL in Mrs. E.'s
Classroom

Conflict in CGL: Shifting Paradigms from
Traditional to Non-Traditional Teaching and
Learning

Dilemmas in the Teacher's Role in CGL: Being
Left Out of the "Fun” and Sitting by the
Sidelines during Conflict

Future Studies: Status, Power, and
Communicative Competence in CGL

Transferability: "The Ripple Effect"
Re-Examined

Conclusion

APPENDIX A: CONVENTIONS FOR TRANSCRIPT ANALYSIS

APPENDIX B: STORY CHARACTER MAPS FROM "NARNIA" GROUPS

APPENDIX C: STUDENTS' GROUP STORIES ABOUT COOPERATION

List of References

158

167

175

179

182

183

191

199

201

205

215

218

219

221

225

Table 1

Study Demographics

LI ST OF TABLES

xi

37

Figure 1
Figure 2
Figure 3
Figure 4
Figure 5
Figure 6
Figure 7
Figure 8
Figure 9
Figure 10
Figure 11

LIST OF FIGURES

Power Structure Models

Teacher Rights and Student Obligations in a
Traditional Structure

Student Rights and Obligations under a
Traditional Classroom Structure

CGL: Reciprocality of Rights and Obligations
between Peers

Major Events during the Research
Student Groups during the Indian Unit
Student Groups during Storywriting Unit
Coding Symbols for Data

Coding of Participants

Listings on the Report Card

Student Metaphors for Cooperation

xii

19

20

21

22

31

33

34

40

50

164

164

Chapter 1
THE POTENTIAL OF COOPERATIVE GROUP LEARNING

TO ADDRESS FLAWS OF TRADITIONAL SCHOOLING
AND ACCOMMODATE NEW PARADIGM SHIFTS IN TEACHING AND LEARNING

OVERVIEW

A cursory glimpse around the fifth grade classroom whisked the
viewer away, via four large murals, to other regions, other times, other
ways of life. On one rose a large pueblo in the desert, replete with an
eagle's nest atop the roof, protector against bad spirits, and a
wandering turkey, whose feathers could become adornment for a special
ceremony, with the remains unceremoniously devoured. Two large kachinas
stared mysteriously, representing a promise to bring rain when needed,
for the Pueblo corn crop. The paintings were accompanied by displays of
artifacts, some original works and also student creations, representing
Indian tribes from all over the United States. With a full-size teepee
erected in the center, visiting students circulated around the classroom
to view the scene in detail and make inquiries.

A second grader, curious about a segment of one group-created mural
that depicted a buffalo skin drying, inquired, "How could skins be wet,
in the first place?" Megen, a fifth grader, laughed uncomfortably and
responded, "Well, they'd be sort of bloody!" Her voice got very high as
she spoke, and she added, "So, they'd dry 'em out!" (Fld 11/18/88).1
The fifth graders were sharing their learning that day with students
from each classroom in Lincoln Elementary School, as well as with

visiting parents and other school personnel.

2

This day represented the culmination of a seven-week cooperative
group learning unit on native Americans which was a significant focus of
my three-month study of teaching and learning in this classroom. What
follows is the story of events which led to the bustling scene of
excited, engaged learners, and what followed. I trace the experiences
and interpretations of the teacher, Mrs. E., and her classroom of 16
fifth graders as they learned about cooperation through cooperative
group learning (CGL). Participating in activities centered around units
in the various subject areas, the students represented multiracial,
multilingual, and multicultural populations, with two grandchildren of
native Americans and others from Latin America, the Middle and Far East,
and the West Indies. The teacher, a veteran of eighteen years,
represented to me the "ideal" teacher. Predisposed to humanistic,
reflective, creative teaching, she utilized cooperative learning as a
way of organizing her students to learn to cooperate. To complement the
organization of student learning into small, heterogeneous groups, she
also selected curricular content which would heighten students'
sensitivity to diversity.

I saw the investigation of her classroom as a way to construct a
positive case study about how students learn cooperation by doing it and
living it in the classroom. Chapter 1 provides the background for the
study, citing flaws in traditional approaches to teaching and learning,
the need for nontraditional approaches in schooling, and the potential
for the various forms of cooperative group learning to meet those
evolving needs of a diverse nation. In addition, I discuss the shifts
in paradigm regarding the nature of knowledge and learning, and the

purposes of education which underlay the changes in organization,

3
curriculum, and pedagogy that represent the move to nontraditional
teaching.

Chapter 2 describes the site and methodology for the study. In
particular, the site was selected for student diversity in race,
language, and culture; the teacher was chosen on the basis of her goal
to teach cooperation and allow students to work through conflict. The
study was conducted as fieldwork, with methods of participant
observation and interviewing. I also designed and taught lessons, to
gain further insight into a teacher's perspective on using CGL to teach
cooperation. I saw cooperation as working together, resolving conflict
and differences in a way that honored and respected the perspective of
each party.

Chapter 3 explores the classroom teacher's interpretation of
cooperation and her goals. It indicates changes in how she interpreted
her role in guiding student learning about cooperation, in response to
the macro context in which she taught, and the influence of the school's
power structure on her thinking.

Chapter 4 explores students' academic responses to CGL. In
particular, previous out-of-school experiences influenced their
interpretation of in-classroom cooperation to create an unintended
meaning of cooperation as compliance. Focusing upon their relationship
with the teacher, and the obligation to finish “work," students
continued to view power as one-way. They responded at times with
resistance, bargaining for a lesser commitment to academic learning.

In Chapter 5, I describe students' responses to the social learning
possible in CGL. I found that global perspectives of power as

domination further reinforced students' impressions that cooperating was

4

giving in to coercion, i.e., compliance. In some contexts, students
excluded certain peers, based on their own conceptions of communicative
competency for group work, which included use of humor, directness,
predictability. Analyzing the stories written by student groups, as
well as input from private interviews with students, I show how students
continued to portray cooperation as an individual responsibility,
focusing on withdrawal, rather than social resolution of problems.

Chapter 6 suggests implications for practitioners, administrators,
teacher educators. In particular, I note structural constraints for
teaching cooperation as working together to resolve differences;
students and teachers face problems with the power base, the
organization of teaching and learning in a hierarchical bureaucratic
setting, the district's standardization of the social curriculum and
loss of decision-making power and creative response both for the teacher
and for the students. I discuss issues of communicative competency for
peer involvement in CGL activities, and possible relationships to the
theory of status generalization; and I describe the dilemmas of teacher
and students in making a paradigm shift from traditional teaching which
assumes responsibility of the individual for resolving social
differences, to the nontraditional approach of CGL which assumes social,
communal action for resolution of conflict. I conclude that many
outside factors mitigate against the teaching of co-operation in today's
schools. Within the school structure, aspects of inter- and
intra-personal understanding have been inadequately attended to; I
stress the importance of the interpretive aspects of learning about
c00peration. I recommend that teachers expand conceptions of the value

of CGL, to utilize this social organization not only for "impressive

5
products" and a way to engage disenchanted students, but also as a
springboard to guided reflection, for greater student understanding of

social relationships.

PROBLEMS WITH TRADITIONAL SCHOOLING

In contrast to the introductory portrait of Mrs. E.'s fifth grade
classroom, descriptions of schooling in the United States have portrayed
conflict between diverse students who have "turned off" and become
disengaged from learning and resistant to teachers' authority (Cusick,
1983; Everhart, 1983; Sedlak, Wheeler, Pullin, & Cusick, 1986).

Traditional education has consisted of students sitting quietly at
desks, isolated from each other, with little chance for discussion,
learning knowledge which has been simplified and rigidly categorized to
reduce uncertainty and avoid conflict. The "ideal” classroom has been
one that is quiet and orderly, with the assumption that, under these
conditions, students learn best. However, in this context of passivity,
school learning has become an accumulation of decontextualized and
unapplicable knowledge and skills. In response to superficial knowledge
and trivialized learning, massive numbers of students in today's high
schools have become disengaged, viewing knowledge acquisition not as
intrinsically interesting and rewarding activity, but simply the
accumulation of "products" such as high grade point averages (what
Sedlak et al., 1986, refer to as "proxies" for learning).

Evaluated competitively on the grounds that learning is individual,
and some individuals are more "intelligent” than others, students have

had inequitable access to high-status knowledge; this has exacerbated

6
differences among diverse social groups and led to conflict, antagonism,
and creation of enemies, rather than friendships. Some groups have been
effected more than others from the inadequacies of public schooling.
Since universal access to schooling became available in the late 1940's,
a history of "low effort syndrome" has emerged, the result of mistrust
and coping mechanisms developed over generations in response to
inequities (Ogbu, 1988).

One attempt to compensate for the lack of ”excellence" in our
schools has been a focus on increased accountability by instituting
greater controls and top-down reforms in the form of standardized
testing and curricula, which have not only bored students, but removed
critical decision-making power from teachers. The move to standardize,
based in part on the assumption that teachers need outside "experts" to
"help” them design curriculum, has had the effect of deskilling teachers
from their creative roles of responding contextually to the learners,
reskilling them as technicists who follow "experts'" instructions,
pushing learning as covering texts and finishing products (Apple, 1983;
Shanks, 1990).

Traditional schooling has not resulted in academic excellence or
equity; nor has it adequately prepared students in the area of personal
and social learning and preparation for democratic citizenship.
Encouraged to compete, students have learned to manipulate their
academic status and grades for personal gain, becoming "possessive
individuals" with little regard for others; this has, until recently,
remained unquestioned, considered appropriate to the liberal ideal of
freedom as an individual matter (see, for example, Bricker, 1988;

Greene, 1988; Popkewitz, Pitman, & Barry, 1986).

7

With students in conflict, unable or indisposed to resolve
differences, school administrators have focused on keeping control and
order; excellence and excitement in learning are put aside, to appease
and "please" kids, maintaining a pact of mediocrity for appearance'
sake (Cusick, 1983).

What I have portrayed has been a circular argument, intended to
show the cycle of dysfunction evidenced in traditional responses to
learning and teaching. Schools are the result of complex social
interactions, each facet affecting others, each reform effort creating
new "glitches"; today's schools are a product of the history of these
cycles of solutions and the chain of accompanying problems (Cohen &
Neufeld, 1981).

How do we break the cycle? Current reform efforts such as

o w' c (The Holmes Group, 1990) focus on improving the life
of the teacher. Yet, while already promoting the process of change,
teacher educators acknowledge that there are many unknown facets of
moving from a traditional to a nontraditional mode of teaching. Even
traditional teaching is inherently uncertain, with dilemmas between
choices, none of which are ideal. To try ”adventuresome" teaching makes
the context even more complex, and evaluation problematic (Cohen, 1988).

We are in the midst of major paradigm shifts in education. One
concerns the purposes of schooling, and assumptions about the
transferability of learning, a major premise established over 150 years
ago through the salesmanship of Horace Mann and others, who claimed that
people with school learning were better workers (Mann, 1842). The
assumption was that literacy and abstract knowledge produced by

schooling would be useful in the workplace. Today, anthropologists

8
question this perspective, showing that learning is context-specific,
grounded in "the logic of immediate situations" and therefore, not
necessarily transferable (see, for example, the synopsis in Resnick,
1987, p. 80).

Another major shift is from the assumption that learning is an
individual process, acquired from behavioral and cognitive science, to
the understanding that learning occurs as a sggial process, as shared
social cognition (Erickson, 1984; Resnick, 1987). This accompanies a
shift in the epistemology of knowledge, once viewed as "fact,”
independent "truth," now acknowledged by many as socially constructed
and ratified as a reality which changes over time and is different
across cultures.

How does a teacher make daily decisions, often under pressure,
while operating in the midst of paradigm shifts? How do the previous

schemas enter into the sense-making of daily practice?

EMERGING VISION 0F SCHOOLING

In response to incomplete assumptions about individual learning and
transferable aspects of schooling, two basic recommendations result: 1)
that schools change the focus from individual cognition to shared
intellectual functioning (Resnick, 1987); and 2) that school learning
not be an gag in itself, but a better means to a higher goal, which
could include development of intentional learning, personal
enlightenment, and communal participation as preparation for democratic
citizenship (Bereiter & Scardamalia, 1987; Lanier & Sedlak, 1989;

Resnick, 1987). This emergent image of schooling goes beyond goals

9
focused on the individual, and views school learning as purposeful
socially constructed activity (Bricker, 1988; Langer, 1988). Focusing
on learning as a community does not disregard development of individual
intellect; however, the individual is not the ultimate focus. Instead,
schooling is portrayed as a means to improving society. Dewey (1916)
claimed that, to learn cooperation, students must cooperate in the
classroom context.

I studied teaching and learning in a cooperative group context
because of the potential for CGL as a mode of classroom organization to
address many flaws in traditional teaching and learning. In CGL,
learning is a social event, rather than individualized; it has potential
for overcoming the trivialization of learning by increasing the level of
student participation, and for providing opportunities for students to
learn to work with others, to resolve conflict and to accept and

appreciate diversity, in preparation for democratic participation.

COOPERATIVE GROUP LEARNING AS A RESPONSE TO THE INADEQUATE EFFECTS OF
TRADITIONAL TEACHING/LEARNING

To reorganize school learning as a socially constructed activity
implies that students must be able to talk and interact. Yet, educators
have assumed, with regret, that having large numbers of students crowded
into a small space requires a social organization with stress on
conformity, order, and quiet (Jackson, 1968; Goodlad, 1983). Therefore,
most traditional forms of classroom organization do not provide much
opportunity for student talk of any kind. In fact, "talk” has been

condemned in most typical classrooms, viewed as a deterrent to learning,

10
rather than a catalyst or vehicle which makes learning possible (Cazden,
1986; Gilmore, 1986; Silberman, 1971).

Cooperative group learning has already been established as a
successful pedagogical method and organization which accommodates
social, interactive aspects of learning. Known by various terms,
including cooperative learning (CL), c00perative group learning (CGL),
or multiability cooperative learning (MACL), as well as other acronyms
which specify specially-constructed forms of cooperative learning, it
features small, heterogeneous groups of approximately four students
working together on a common goal. In cooperative group learning,
rather than having one authority (i.e., the teacher), all of the
students are potential experts for teaching each other. Students learn
together. The teacher acts as a facilitator, rather than a dispenser,
of knowledge. She is available, but not constantly controlling issues
such as who may speak next, etc.

Cooperative group learning, cited by Oakes (1985) as the most
promising medium for development of equity, social acceptance, and a
sense of community, has the potential to enhance the interactive
reasoning of students, and allow them to take a collaborative, proactive
role in resolving conflict. In CGL contexts, students have an
opportunity to talk together on issues of knowledge; this addresses the
problem of the passive, disinterested learner. Cohen (1986) claims that
students are more interested if they can talk with each other and be
actively involved.

There is a link between communicating on an equal level and
deve10ping respect for and support of others; CGL allows students to

communicate with each other, creating the potential for development of

ll
"dialogue" which has had the effect of improving intergroup
relationships, with more cross-ethnic and racial acceptance (Allport,
1957; Frank & Maruyama, 1987; Freire, 1970; Giroux, 1986; Greene, 1988;
Habermas, 1979; Slavin, 1983, 1985). This interactive, communicative
process also has the potential to contribute to the development of
fidelity, concern, caring, and generosity, which are important elements
of democratic decision-making and the maintenance of freedom within a
community (Bricker, 1988; Greene, 1988; Noddings, 1986; Popkewitz, et
al., 1986; Schmuck, 1985). Students develop friendships become more
generous, develop a desire for classmates to do well (Hertz-Lazarowitz,
Sharan, & Steinberg, 1980; Slavin, 1975). What we do not know is hp!
this concern is developed and maintained, or what enhances or detracts
from positive interactions in peer learning contexts.

Cooperative group learning is not a novelty; we currently have
metaanalyses of over 20 years of operation, particularly about a few
"packaged” versions of cooperative learning, developed and promoted by
teacher educators. However, it is still tricky to make sense out of the
lived experiences of the participants, because cooperative learning is a
term used for so many different organizations, some of which are
actually still oriented to classroom competition among peers. For
example, STAD (Student Teams-Achievement Divisions) consists of peer
“coaching," in which students help each other by ”drilling" facts, after
which they return to a traditional mode of individual quizzes. Students
are rewarded for the improvement in the tutoree's performance. Similar
to this mode of CGL, which essentially is a "piggy-back" to a standard
curriculum, is TGT (Teams-Games-Tournaments), which utilizes game

tournaments and a bumping system related to improvement, rather than

12
quizzes. Although these systems are sometimes useful tools to peer
memorization, they do not resolve the problem of competition or a
trivialized curriculum based on a boring conglomeration of "facts."

Another alternative is Jigsaw I and II, which features a division
of labor, in which students provide each other with necessary
information, again from a more traditional curriculum, thus producing an
interdependence in task structure. After sharing, the evaluation for
learning becomes individualized again. Another system, FO/D (Finding
Out/Descubrimiento), features a prepackaged science curriculum which is
based on student-centered activities of discovering tenets of science
through group experiments and oral and written reports. Group
Investigation and Coop Coop feature still greater student curricular
choice and decision making, and more freedom to work through conflict.
The latter system represents the most "pure” cooperation, with the goal
being to help other students, as well as those in one's group, thus,
totally eliminating competition (Cohen, 1986; Kagan, 1985).

Experts working with CGL, no matter which form, have different
conceptions of its potential in diverse classrooms for attaining
cooperation and resolution of conflict by peer decisions. For example,
Cohen (1986) claims that students do not automatically accept each other
as equals. Nonacceptance and rejection of certain individuals can occur
because students enter interactions with preconceived notions, or
expectations, regarding the possible value of contributions from various
members (Berger, Cohen, & Zelditch Jr., 1966, 1972). Status
generalization, Cohen claims, results in bias which serves as the basis

for blocking dialogue and producing differential access to the

13
participation process and academic learning (Cohen, 1983; Cohen, Lotan &
Catanzarite, 1986).

The findings of Melnick & Raudenbush (1986) partially support the
theory of status generalization as a way that human beings make
decisions. Adding the teacher's perspective, these authors investigated
the effects of gender, race/ethnicity, behavior, and ability on teacher
judgments about the appropriateness of responses to students. The study
found that preconceived characteristics did affect the teachers'
decisions. However, one more factor influenced teacher decisions: the
element of context specificity, i.e., the students' perceived behavior
(on/off task) within that agateat also affected the teachers' decisions
about whether or not to sustain interaction with that student.

Many other studies point out the influence of context on
teacher/student construction of meaning and learning (Au & Jordan, 1978;
Erickson & Mohatt, 1982; Labov, 1972; Mehan, Hertweck, Combs, & Flynn,
1982). Yet, potential discrimination and exclusion of students from
peer interaction is a serious concern, because it can result in lost
access to knowledge and academic learning, and can create a barrier to
students' social learning, and deflect development of acceptance and
appreciation of each other.

It can also result in conflict. Cohen (1986) recommends that
teachers avoid conflict, because it can be "costly in terms of human
relations and emotions." This stance would be supported by many
administrators, who see conflict as politically, culturally, and
racially explosive (Cusick, 1983). Thus, although cooperative group
learning is one approach to teaching and learning which can potentially

be "an exploration of interdependence” or a ”project of social

14
improvement,” it is also potentially explosive (Lewin, 1935; Slavin,
1985). This is true particularly in socially diverse contexts, where
conflict during CGL, if not resolved, could actually exacerbate negative
social relations.

As a way of avoiding debilitating conflict, Cohen (1986) offers an
alternative to "pure" organizations of CGL, modifying the structure to
provide for teacher-assignment of roles of special "jobs," each with a
description of duties, or obligations. Assignment of roles, such as
facilitator, recorder, timekeeper, and clean-up person, clarifies the
rights and obligations of peers to each other in the learning process.
In addition, the roles specify certain "appropriate" things to say to
others. They serve to "script" students to a certain extent, into
"effective" communication as functioning group members, thus avoiding
conflict and potentially negative social interactions. The conflict
which most people fear and object to is inaarnagaanal, rather than
intellectual, conflict. Cohen (1986) and others support utilizing CGL
as a basis for working through intellectual differences. However, Cohen
advises to avoid interpersonal conflict through role assignment aalaaa a
teacher is working specifically on human relations. That, however, is
what I am addressing, in the context of conflict resolution, which is
rarely only an impersonal, intellectual process in the classroom (or
anywhere).

An additional concern is that, although roles are rotating, rather
than permanent, the potential remains for students to be limited from
the full range of possible interactions in any given context. In this
case, it is not an issue of exclusion by peers; but the students may

limit their efforts to token interactions and the "scripted"

15
contributions.2 We have, on the one hand, a publicly supported
tradition of avoiding of classroom conflict, a history of social and
cultural diversity in our public schools, and recurring problems of
violence and conflict; and on the other, recent research indicating that
a major goal of schooling should be learning how to cope with conflict
(Resnick, 1987). That leaves us with a paradox.

In order to work through the complex process of democracy, some
conflict is necessary (Oser, 1986). Stanford (1977) describes conflict
as a natural §£§8§ in cooperation. Yet, the school community itself
denies the process, seeking "order" in classrooms (Cusick, 1983). And
conflict gag exacerbate nonacceptance and contribute to peers' going
beyond being "strangers" to becoming "enemies” (Noddings, 1988). In
response, teachers may be tempted to restrict goals of learning to more
easily attainable and observable objectives, attempting to control
potential intagaaragnal conflict through role assignment of the
interactions of students. However, if roles are limited and controlled,
the model of CGL becomes more traditional, with inclusion of the teacher
as ultimate authority telling the students how to interact.

In order to develop a sense of community and a cooperative mode of
learning, teachers must provide opportunities for students to drop the
years of social conditioning as egocentric individuals; to internalize a
process of working through difficult problems of diverse interests,
concerns, and agendas; and to develop a communal discourse based on
working through moral conflicts (Oser, 1986; Popkewitz, Pitman, & Barry,
1986).

To teach this, however, is to change teacher practice, embracing

two heretofore negatively sanctioned processes in classrooms: allowing

16
students to talk with each other and explore learning together; and
permitting possible conflict to occur in the process. The teacher who
attempts this faces the additional uncertainty of little knowledge
available to help guide teaching students to cope with conflict
(Resnick, 1987). This study contributes to our understanding of CGL as
a sense-making process by identifying how the teacher and the students
thought and talked about the problems they encountered as well as the
successes they created.

Communal learning is a kind of socialization which has
traditionally not existed in public school teaching and learning. We
know a great deal about technical aspects of what makes schools
”efficient,” but little about the interpretive elements of establishing
cooperation through cooperative group learning situations. The
uncertainty of such situations relates in part to the uncharted
territories of nontraditional teaching (Cohen, 1988). It relates also,
however, issues of meaning, interpretation, and human agency and choice,
and to an element of unpredictability inherent in social interaction
which becomes particularly "sticky" in diverse classrooms when working
through the process of conflict.

There is a need to identify, in different contexts, the problems
and constraints of practice as well as the potential successes of CGL
that allay students to work through conflict as a necessary component in

the development of cooperation.

l7

CLASSROOM CULTURE

The classroom is a culture, with a set of rules and standards by
which participants operate (Cazden, 1986; Erickson, 1986; Florio-Ruane,
1989; Michaels, 1981, 1986). There are many definitions for culture,
but two in particular, by Goodenough (1981) and Geertz (1973), provide a
basis for viewing learning events at the level of face-to-face
interactions.

Goodenough defines culture as "learned and shared standards for
perceiving, believing, acting, and evaluating the actions of others"
(1971, p. 259; see also Goodenough, 1981, pp. 61-95). How teacher and
students perceive what is "cooperative" or "uncooperative" depends in
part on their interpretations of what counts as appropriate behaviors
for these labels or designations. To look at culture as a tangible,
identifiable code involves delving into the histories of those shared
standards, as well as individual backgrounds to identify differences in
perceptions.

Geertz regards culture as an ongoing process, described as the webs
of meaning and interpretations that are created through the interactions
of people. Research which follows this definition is interpretive, in
search of meaning (see Erickson, 1986). Culture can be altered and
redefined by the contributions of any or all of the participants, or by
human interaction. This is accomplished through the process of
face-to-face communication, what Giroux (1987) calls the "real stuff of
culture” because it is creative and carries the possibility of
intervention for change (Freire, 1986; Taylor, 1985). We do not yet

have much information on how a teacher and students go about the

18
construction of a system of meaning about cooperation, in the
communitarian sense.

Communication occurs in face-to-face interactions, the organization
of which is influenced by the status that each person brings into the
context (Cohen, 1983, 1986; Cohen & Lotan, 1987; Linton, 1971). There
are two ways to view status. Cohen (1983) derives her definition from
Berger, Cohen, & Zelditch, Jr. (1966, 1972), who view status as more or
less fixed categories of higher or lower value. Goodenough (1971)
offers an alternative definition of status, not as characteristics, but
as collections of reciprocal rights and duties. The following section
addresses theoretical constructs of power, which acknowledge status in
the classroom, not only among or between students, but rather between
all participants, including the teacher. This formulation acknowledges
general categories of status, in terms of power; but does not view them
as rigid and fixed. Instead, it acknowledges that roles are selected
according to a specific context, and therefore, they are open to

interpretation and can change (Merton, 1971).

THE POWER STRUCTURE

Although many researchers have traditionally highlighted the
theoretical egalitarian nature of cooperative group learning, actually
several theoretical frameworks of power operate. This section addresses
theoretical constructs of power which represent idealized as well as
actualized dimensions of cooperative group learning in general,
considering the various dimensions of rights and obligations which apply

to each construct.

19

Within the classroom, there are actually multi-dimensional aspects
to the power structure. They include the ideal, egalitarian structure
which in this study was the focus of the teacher's socio—psychological
goals for student development; the traditional conception of power
represented by students' previous knowledge of cooperation and
student/teacher relationships in settings other than CGL; and the
actualized CGL structure which included pieces of both of the other two,
but which varied from context to context and among participants.

In order to understand the relationship of the various power
structures better, I have arranged them in a visual construct, with t
standing for teacher and a for students; the arrows point to the person
with power in each relationship, denoting that the person from whom the
arrow originates has obligations to, and is therefore is less powerful
than, the person toward whom the arrow points.

Figure 1 shows the difference in the nature of interactions between
a traditional power structure (A), the ideal, egalitarian structure of
the teacher's vision of cooperative teaching (B), and the actualized
dual power structure of CGL teaching and learning context (C) which

includes pieces of both A and B.

 

Figure 1

Power Structure Models

Traditional dea Actual
(A) (B) (C)
t t:

s s<>t<>s s <> 3 <> 5 <> 5

 

20

In (A), the relationship is between individual student and the
teacher. Power runs one way, with formalized student obligations to the
teacher. In (B), the duties and rights between students and
student/teacher are more balanced and equal. The structure of part (C)
retains elements of both the traditional (A) and the egalitarian power
structures (B). Therefore (C) is much more complex, containing two
alffiatagt and potentially contradictory conceptions of rights and
obligations in interactions and power relationships among the students
and teacher.

The arrows in Figure 1 indicate power, i.e., who has the right to
demand an obligation, or duty, from another person. To better
understand what this means, in terms of interactions, I examine first
the rights and obligations in a traditional power classroom structure.
The emphasis in this structure is on the students' obligations to the
teacher. For each student obligation there is a corresponding right, as

indicated in the following model:

 

Figure 2

Teacher Rights and Student Obligations
in a Traditional Structure

W W
be silent have "silence"

sit at individual desks have students sit at
and work alone individual desks
working alone

remain quietly in seat have "order" of movement

 

21

This model represents a top-down hierarchical power structure with
teacher as authority. Note students do not have equal or same rights
with the teacher. It graphically illustrates Cherryholmes' description
of the asymmetrical quality of classroom interactions between teacher
and students, created because "teacher authority militates against
symmetrical interactions" (1988, p. 169). Symmetricality refers, in
this context, to power running in both directions, indicated in Figure
l, diagram B; asymmetricality refers to power running only in one
direction, indicated in Figure 1, diagram A, which represents the
traditional classroom organization.

Figure 2 is not meant to imply, however, that in the traditional
classroom, the students have no rights, i.e., no reciprocity. Figure 3
indicates the rights as students have generally interpreted them under

the traditional structure.

 

Figure 3

Student Rights and Obligations
under a Traditional Classroom Structure

Stadaat Obligations to S u nt Ri t with

the Teacher the Ieachar
no talking with peers can talk with teacher,

with permission

work alone work easiest, fastest
way possible

sit quietly talk with peer with
teacher's permission

 

22

Figure 3 indicates how students interpret their rights, under a
traditional power hierarchy. They have very different conceptions of
what they aaght to do, within a traditional system, than within a
cooperative learning context. From the various models in Figure 1, it
is possible to determine whether teacher and students are interpreting
the context as fitting both systems, or one or the other, by examining
their interactions and talk about what they should be doing and why.

In contrast to the traditional structure of teaching and learning,
CGL provides opportunities for symmetrical interactions. The following
model of rights and obligations within a CGL organization indicates the
more symmetrical nature of the interactions. This, of course, is only
the case when the rights and obligations are specified as between

students, rather than between teacher and student.

 

Figure 4
CGL: Reciprocality of Rights and Obligations

between Peers

(Where Student A and Student B - any student)

mm mat—E

Ob: talk with st. B Rt: have st. A talk with me

Rt: have st. B talk with me Ob: talk with st. A

 

Ob: take turns Rt: get a turn

Rt: get a turn Ob: take turns

 

23

Figure 4 (continued)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ob: listen to st. B Rt: be listened to by st. A
Rt: be listened to by st. B Ob: listen to st. A
Ob: share ideas with st. B Rt: have st. A share ideas
Rt: have st. B share ideas Ob: share ideas with st. A
Ob: accept st. B's ideas Rt: have st. A accept my
ideas
Rt: have st. B accept my Ob: accept st. A's ideas
ideas
Ob: share doing work Rt: have st. A share doing
the work
Rt: have st. B share Ob: share doing the work
doing work
Ob: give help to st. B Rt: get help from st. A
Rt: get help from st. B Ob: give help to st. A
Oh: include st. B in Rt: be included in
decision-making decision-making
Rt: be included in Ob: include st. A in

decision—making

decision-making

 

24

Note how different the rights and obligations are in the two
different models of power structure illustrated in Figure 3 and Figure
4. In the latter, there is reciprocality between each action, so that
students have corresponding rights and obligations with each other, so
that each norm, such as listening, turn taking, sharing ideas, etc. is
hath an obligation and a right. In contrast, in Figure 3, anly the
teacher has the right to talk; the students are to llsteg and be quiet
unless she indicates otherwise.

In the ideal (B) or actualized (C) CGL organization, as opposed to
a traditional (A) classroom (see Figure 1), students have more rights,
denoted by arrows pointing to them. This change in the relationship
among students, the positive sanctions allowing peer interaction, is
what is usually emphasized by researchers. Corresponding to the greater
number of rights, students have fewer obligations to the teacher than in
the traditional organization. They no longer have to be quiet or sit by
themselves. There are several dimensions to student duties within the
CGL structure. First of all, duties to each other are reciprocal. This
is indicated by the direction of arrows in the horizontal dimension,
with power running both directions between students.

Second, students are encouraged under this organization to help
peers; ideally, this would lead to develop caring attitudes, and
fidelity to their peers (Greene, 1983; Noddings, 1986; Slavin, 1985).
This is different from the competitive structures, in which one
student's success is another's failure (Skon, Johnson, & Johnson, 1971).

What is aat usually emphasized is that, although students have
fewer ttagltiaaal obligations, they still actually have increased

duties, being obligated in CGL not only to their peers but also still to

25
the taathat. This is denoted by the increased number of arrows pointing
{123 s. They apply to both the vertical power hierarchy and the
horizontal egalitarian peer structures. (Actually, diagrams B and C in
Figure l are greatly simplified portrayals; they cannot do justice to
the student interactional component, which when actualized is more like
a net, or web.)

Because of the increased opportunities for interactions, and the
increased duties and rights within both the idealized and actualized
structures of CGL, students have more "work" in determining what their
rights and obligations are within each context. It is a much more

complex situation than sitting in a chair, doing seatwork alone.

The dimension of agaag_gat1aa is further complicated by the fact
that the original duties to the teacher are of a alfitatant_natata in the

CGL context. Although students still have a duty to do the work, to
complete the assigned task, this is now a gtaan rather than an
inalxigaal obligation. In CGL, work becomes a social construction of a
group of students, which requires learning to use a different set of
skills, particularly communication skills.

Florio-Ruane (1989) cites cooperative learning as an opportunity
for teacher and students to create a learning community by redefining
rights and obligations, with each other and their work (i.e., the power
structure). While this is theoretically accurate, one problem is
dealing with the tacit nature of the power structures in this form of
classroom culture (Goffman, 1961). Even though CGL alters the
traditional teacher and student roles, much of this remains implicit and
”taken for granted"; as a result, many different interpretations are

possible (Garfinkel, paraphrased in Cook-Gumperz, 1975, p. 138).

26
Students must make decisions regarding their obligations and
priorities continuously throughout interactive tasks. Students have to
make choices at times whether to concentrate on obligations to peers,
sharing turns and ideas, or to concentrate on the primacy of task
completion, the major obligation to the teacher. This study examines

what affected such choices.

THE ROLE OF LANGUAGE AND COMMUNICATION IN LEARNING COOPERATION

Although the power structure may strongly influence participants'
perceived rights and obligations and therefore, their interactions,
there are other factors that influence interactions. One of the most
powerful is language itself, the "stuff" of which CGL interactions are
made.

As we shift our view of learning from an individual to a social
construction, oral communication takes on a greater significance in the
process of learning. Language in its spoken form, as speech, is the
medium which unites the cognitive and the social, the way that the
intellectual process becomes socially mediated (Florio-Ruane, 1989).
Language provides the basis for personal reflection, elaboration of
experience, and social communication; the meanings are dependent upon
the interpretations of the participants (Cazden, 1986; Leach, 1976;
Vygotsky, 1978).

In order to understand what contribution CGL could make toward
development of a cooperative learning community, I looked at peer
communications and examined how participants interpreted the

interactions that were designed to be cooperative. I wanted to know how

27
what teacher and peers said enhanced or detracted from resolution of
conflicts and creation of open spaces for understanding, acceptance, and
appreciation of diversity in others.

In any given context, rights and obligations were not considered
rigidly fixed categories, altered and negotiated in the process of
interacting (Philips, 1972; Erickson & Shultz, 1977). This was due to
the interpretive and constitutive nature of language (Taylor, 1985). It
was through the use of language that students mutually constructed,
altered, or reconstructed rules within a given event, ”redefining the
situation itself in the process of performing it" (Erickson, 1975, p.
484).

What was elicited by a speaker as a message was still open to
interpretation by the listener (Leach, 1976). There were interesting
cases of differences of interpretations, both among and between students
and between students and the teacher. This is crucial, because
differing interpretations between student and teacher may result in
differential access to knowledge.

Breakdowns between student and teacher are a result of differing
conceptions of what is happening. In CGL, there can be breakdowns
between peers also. How students interpreted what was happening was
related not only to the current context but also to personal
experiences, norms, and values (see also Au & Jordan, 1978; Bremme &
Erickson, 1982; Erickson, 1981, 1982; Erickson & Mohatt, 1982; Gumperz,
1977, 1982; Mehan, Hertweck, Combs, & Flynn, 1982; Michaels, 1981,
1986).

According to Bernstein, power relationships outside the school

"penetrate the organization, distribution, and evaluation of knowledge

28
through the social context of their transmission" (1972, p. 150). This
study explores the school bureaucracy, as well as outside-school factors
which affected the teacher, curriculum, students, and meanings produced.
It identifies previous meanings brought to the classroom and relates
them to the local production of meaning as students were encouraged to
cooperate with each other (Freire, 1970, 1986; Habermas, 1976, 1985;
Taylor, 1985). This study explores how these various outside influences
-- both of personal and institutional histories -- affected students'
interpretations of cooperation.

When a group is diverse, the possibility for differing
interpretations increases, as a consequence of participants' different
cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Because a speaker's primary
language and culture may have an impact on the shaping of ideas, the
diversity of linguistic background could result in differing
interpretations of verbal and nonverbal information (Whorf, 1956; Cole,
Gay, Click, & Sharp, 1971). Even greater complexities in creating
shared norms of cooperation exist in the diverse classroom.

Language enabled me to access the knowledge and thought processes
of the participants. I asked questions that normally were not asked,
elicited information that was usually tacit to find out what we can know
(Barnes, 1976). To date, there are few case studies available about the
sensemaking of participants in the cooperative process in CGL

activities.

29

NOTES

1

The coding system for data is presented in Figure 8, page 40.
Transcript conventions are presented in Appendix A.

As an instructor of a field decision-making lab which focuses on
multi-ability cooperative learning, I have both observed this on
countless occasions and read many student reports in journals of such
experiences. Certain roles, in particular, such as timekeeper and
materials person, seem to "turn off" students to further interactions
on the basis of having less status. These roles are seen as less
important by students, and they assume that they are less important,
also, within the group context. Even if those “lesser" roles are
changed and renamed, students seem to identify quickly which roles
provide higher decision-making regarding interactions and
contributions. Some students, when not given the most active roles,
such as recorder or facilitator, choose to drop out of the
interactions.

Chapter 2

PROJECT DESCRIPTION

PROJECT OVERVIEW

This research project took place in a fifth grade classroom with 16
students of multilingual, multicultural, multiracial backgrounds, and a
middle-aged female teacher with 18 years of public school teaching
experience. Observations took place over a three-month period, during
which the teacher initiated the cooperative experience, beginning in
late September and ending in mid-December. I observed a range of
classroom organizations, including traditional classroom operations,
class discussions, and hybrids of various organizations; most of all, I
observed cooperative group work. The kinds of CGL which Mrs. E.
utilized were most similar to Group Investigation and CoOp CoOp;
however, Mrs. E. wrote some of the curriculum, providing basic
information from which students selected projects, conducted follow—up
research, etc. Never were any of the cooperative group organizations
competitive; students cooperated not only glthln groups, but also across
groups. This was particularly typical during the Indian unit, in which
the four groups ultimately combined their projects and reports into one
large presentation for visitors. Mrs. E. rewarded the students with a
group grade (a certain number of points) for participating and
contributing to the Indian unit; in other cases, she did not necessarily
assign a grade.

Figure 5 indicates the major events which occurred during the

research. Not all CGL activities are included; highlighted are the

30

31

dates of the major cooperative group unit, the Indian unit, as well as

the storywriting and other relevant lessons. Also included are events

from outside the classroom, such as the national Presidential elections

and a school district meeting which occurred during the research and

were connected to the teaching context.

 

Date

Prior to 9/21

9/21*

9/21

9/22*

9/27

9/29

10/4,5

10/4

10/17*

10/18 or 19

11/1

11/7

Figure 5
Major Events during the Research

Event

Initiate cooperative group work in "Narnia"
reading group

Enter site to commence research project

Initiate cooperative group learning with
whole class in science

Interview individuals who had left out
Willie's ideas, to reconstruct "what happened

”Narnia" group CGL map lesson (involved 1/2
of the class)

Parent Night/Open House
"Narnia" CGL lessons, listing traits of story
characters, followed by teacher-led group

discussions

Initiate Indian unit with whole class
discussion

Interview with Group One about leaving out
Gilberto

School district meeting announcing to fifth
grade teachers standardization of the social

studies curriculum

Class discussion on cooperation; student
written responses

National presidential elections

32

Figure 5 (continued)

nets Heat

ll/7* Conduct first set of individual interviews

11/14 Mrs. E. announces termination of Indian unit

11/16 Mrs. E. reinstates Indian unit

11/17 Students rehearse presentations for Indian
unit

11/18 Culmination of Indian unit, with group
presentations to visiting parents and other
classes

12/6-9* CGL storywriting unit (designed and taught by

researcher) which included class discussions
each day of what students have learned about
cooperation

12/15 Class discussion on cooperation and ideas
from storywriting unit experiences; end of
formal research

2/24* Follow-up interviews with teacher and 10
students

*Note: Asterisk indicates actions initiated by the
researcher, rather than teacher or other in-school
personnel.

 

Interviews were conducted during and after the focal period, from
September to the end of February. Research focused on teaching by the
classroom teacher, but also included segments of teaching which I did,
as participant observer.

Group work featured students working in groups of 3, 4, and 5.
Some of the early group work in the first month included only part of
the class; this was particularly true in reading lessons using
cooperative group activities. Most, although not all, cooperative group

activities were related to units of two or more sessions.

33

Content areas featured in cooperative learning activities included
language arts, mathematics, science, and social studies. In-depth
research was conducted on CGL during a 7-week project, the Indian Unit,
which extended from early October to mid-November.

Mrs. E. organized the class into four learning groups associated
with four geographical areas of the United States. In the study, I
refer to the groups interchangeably, as Mrs. E. did, with seating
arrangement in the classroom: Northeast (Group One), Plains (Group Two),
Southwest (Group Three), and Northwest (Group Four). Each group studied
common themes such as shelter, food, recreation, arts, etc. Although
assignments and projects were similar, the information for each was
different, as they were studying different tribes which inhabited the
assigned geographic area.

Figure 6 indicates members of each group.

 

Figure 6

Student Groups during the Indian Unit

Nottheaat Notthwest Blalaa Sout west
Robbie Sivan Onochie Ricardo
Joshua Willie Megen Mun Sing
Gilberto Michael Emily Lina
Asbeid April * Courtney
Hasaan

*Note: One student abstained from participating in the
study, by parental choice.

 

34

In cases of individual lessons or units other than the main ones,
then I designated the group by the names of participants (i.e., rather
than saying "Group One,” I say, "Robbie's group," etc.).

Some assignments within the larger unit were completed in one
session, which could vary from an hour to several hours; some were
extended to a week or more. Specific assignments included reading aloud
teacher-prepared texts and locating main ideas; doing library research
to find information on various tribes; filling out large group
"retrieval" charts with research information; making group murals;
creating artifacts; etc. A few students also did individual written
reports and projects at home.

During the second week of December, I conducted the final

storywriting unit. Figure 7 indicates the student groups for this unit.

 

Figure 7

Student Groups during the Storywriting Unit

Group 1 Gtoap 2 Gtoup 3 Group 4
Courtney Joshua Robbie Lina
Asbeid Emily Megen Gilberto
Michael Ricardo Sivan Willie
Onochie April * Mun Sing

*Note: one student abstained from the study

 

During the storywriting unit, students participated each day in a
class discussion on current thinking about cooperation; for three days,
they worked together to compose group stories, written in three parts

based on the assigned themes of conflict, resolution, and cooperation.

35
The final class discussion about their experiences occurred the
following week, when the classroom teacher returned from a brief
sick-leave. Follow-up interviews with the teacher and ten students
conducted in late February, two months after the basic research period,

concluded the data collection phase of the research.

Thain;

The district, which houses one high school, two middle schools, and
several elementary schools, is located in a Midwestern urban area
containing several universities and colleges. The city itself is
extremely diverse, in terms of race and nationality, housing many
students from the local university and colleges. Although it is not the
most widely-publicized nor widely acclaimed school district in the area,
nevertheless it is known for its diversity and fine curriculum.

Lincoln Elementary School is a medium-sized elementary school with
students from all over the globe, as well as a majority of U.S. states.
This is a matter of pride to the school, and a member of the local PTA
worked for months assembling information about countries and states
represented in the student population that year. This was then
displayed on a large map of the world in the hallway near the school
office.

There are many special programs to meet diverse students' needs at
Lincoln. A county-wide program for the hearing impaired is housed in a
recently-built special wing. Special buses transport children from two
cities to the site each day. In addition, there are many support

personnel for the students in the areas of English as a Second Language,

36
speech, reading, counseling, and special education. This year, the
district had also increased support by extending specialists' time in
art, music, and physical education. This was designed to provide
classroom teachers with ninety minutes more of planning time each week.

Everywhere were signs of the school's cultural, racial, and
linguistic diversity. Identification tags on lockers hosted names such
as Isma, Mirna, Arwa, Min Jing; children of various nationalities and
races passed through the halls during the school day, meeting with a
specialist who taught English as a second language.

The classroom I studied consisted of 16 students, with one
additional student who abstained from lack of parental consent. One
student, April, joined the study in October when she enrolled in this
school; Hasaan left the school in November. Although 16 students
participated in total, often there were only 15 enrolled at one time.

In terms of demographics, the students did not represent a
"typical” American public school classroom. This was true in terms of
race, culture, gender, and level of education of parents. Nine of 16,
or 56% of the students, were from cultures other than the U.S. They
included representation from Brazil, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Iran, Israel,
Korea, Japan, and Bangladesh. In terms of race, 10 out of 16, or 62.5%,
were other than European Caucasian. There were black, Asian, Hispanic,
American Indian, and non-European Caucasian students. Gender
representation of this classroom was tipped in terms of males, with only
6 of 16, or 37.5%, female. Table 1 indicates more specifically the
composition of the classroom in terms of culture, racial, gender, and

parents' education.

37

 

Table 1
Study Demographics

International Background (Cultural)

ou t N9, at atudents

Bangladesh
Brazil

Iran

Israel
Jamaica
Japan

Korea
Mainland U.S.
Puerto Rico*

F'\IP‘P‘P‘F‘NDFJP‘

Total: 9/16 or 56% diverse cultures

*Mother born there; student born in U.S.

 

Racial/Ethnic Composition

Rate New
American Indian* 2
Black 1
European Caucasian 6
Hispanic 2
Non-European Caucasian 3
Asian 2
Total: 10/16 or 62.5% other than European Caucasian

*These children were 1/4 native American; also European
Caucasian

 

Qaadet N9, 9f atadeats
Female 6
Male 10

Total: 6/16 or 37.5% female
10/16 or 62.5% male

 

38
Table 1 (continued)

Education of at least
gag Parent No 0 stude ts

Higher degree than B.A. 1
University student

(level unknown)

Unknown

NHl-‘UJ

Total: at least 13/16 or 81.3% held higher degrees

 

Although the classroom was unusual in many respects, perhaps the most
unusual feature of these students' backgrounds was the high level of
education of most of the students' parents, combined with a lack of
social class differences. All students lived in moderate housing, with
many located in University housing. At least 13 of the students'
parents were seeking degrees higher than a bachelors degree; most were
seeking a doctorate. Some students had both parents studying for
doctorates; other students' parents were seeking a second doctorate. In
many communities in this country, families with such a high level of
education would live in very expensive housing and the children would be
distinguished by their designer clothing. That was not the case at
Lincoln School. Students either lived in modest University housing or
relatively small homes in the immediate community; rather than designer
jeans, they generally were corduroys or jogging pants. There were no
obvious or visible signs of social class differences.

However, this is not to say that the families would not be
distinguished as a higher social class in their own countries. Once I
did hear of a student's having referred to having higher status in his
country; the comments from a peer indicated that she was antagonized by

his claim to royalty. But it seemed a rare occurrence, and to my

39
knowledge, made no obvious impact on CGL interactions with peers, who
continued to accept him as a valued participant.

Many parents frequented the school, particularly at the beginning
and end of each day, to accompany their young ones home across a busy
main street. They made a social event of the visits, congregating and
chatting in Chinese, Spanish, French, Arabic and many other languages.

Although many parents personally accompanied their children to and
from the building, still a well-organized program of safety patrols
stood guard in the morning, at noon, and after school. Parents, in
fact, were very active in many facets of running the school. They held
fund-raising "fairs" and also participated in policy concerns. One
teacher of thirteen years' service in the school had been transferred to
a different site because parents had insisted upon the change. They
were powerful and listened to with respect.

Part of the reason was that the parents themselves were extremely
well-educated. Most children in the school had at least one parent who
was studying or teaching at the university. Many were educators from
foreign universities. When they wanted action, many knew the system and
were articulate in pursuing their goals and needs within it, although of
course some faced linguistic and cultural barriers.

The faculty itself was also diverse, with representation of various
racial and ethnic backgrounds, as well as a teacher with a physical
handicapping condition from an automobile accident. The staff, as a
whole, was warm and friendly to outsiders, and many were close with each
other. An early indication to me of the school climate was the

reception given to me and all visitors by the school secretary, Annie,

40
who was personable, receptive, and helpful. When I got a flat tire,
Annie came halfway across the school to help me with arrangements.

The teachers at Lincoln School had a three-person ”social
committee" which planned the Friday food-sharing festivities and special
staff get-togethers. Before the winter holidays, they had two sign-up
sheets for social activities in the teacher's lounge. A huge sheet of
paper sported personal notes written from each of the teachers to their
"secret Santa," thanking the person for some special gift. Mrs. E., the
teacher who participated in this research project, said it was "uncanny"
how well the person knew her needs (Fld 12/15/88). (See Figure 8 for
notation system of data sources and Appendix A for transcript

conventions.)

 

Figure 8

Coding Symbols for Data

Code Type of Data

CD Class discussion

Fld Fieldnotes (collected in the natural
group settings)

Int Interview

Ints Interview of two or more students
together

N PC Notes from phone conversation

Tr Fld Transcript/Fieldnotes (took notes and
audiotaped)

Tr Int Transcript of interview (from audiotape)

SW Student writing

 

The staff maintained not only social ties of friendship. I also
observed many signs of collegiality, in which teachers would share
materials, ideas, and concerns about students or curriculum. They

worked out sharing of time and materials, such as the computer

41
facilities, without need for administrative intervention. They also
worked with the community, gaining support services and also sharing
their resources.

The school principal was an extremely tall and large man, who
mitigated his potentially threatening size with kindness and gentleness
and an impressive button collection in his office which served as an
object for conversation with visitors. On a couple of occasions, I
caught sight of him donning a sweatshirt with a Lincoln Elementary
School logo, worn for special events such as assemblies. At assemblies,
rather than distance himself, Mr. G. sat on a folding chair situated on
the gym floor with students and faculty. The school had a very
family-like atmosphere.

At a fire drill, Mr. G. addressed the faculty and student body
outside the tennis courts with a megaphone; the scene was encouraging.
He spoke in positive terms, praising their progress, reminding them of
the relevance and importance of the project. When he passed through the
halls during a tornado drill, he gently motioned occasionally for a
student to put his/her heads down, never speaking in a raised voice.

The school climate was one of nurturance, rather than of stress on
discipline and order. These things were taken for granted, even by the
students. One of the fifth graders, Ricardo, compared this school to a
previous one he had attended, in which violence was common. He had
concluded that such violence did not occur at Lincoln School, the
difference being the absence of poverty associated with the urban areas
(Int 2/24/88).1

Mrs. E. was a middle-aged teacher, going into her last year before

"retirement" and moving on to other roles as an educator. She had

42
taught in several states, as well as several schools within this
particular district. Perhaps because of her diverse experiences and
contacts, Mrs. E. was astute politically with what was happening on the
district level, as well as within her own building.

I chose to collaborate with and learn from Mrs. E. in her teaching
context because I knew from previous contact with her that she and I
shared philosophical notions about cooperation. It was essential to
find a teacher who would allow children to work through conflict, if I
were to find out anything about the potential of this teaching method
and classroom organization to the building of co-operation. I was
particularly interested in how she associated CGL with social studies,
which she described as,

social relationships -- how we relate to each other. How
we take care of things? How we look out for our
environment...it's all part of it.

(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

Mrs. E. stressed interpersonal relationships. In mid-summer, she
was already establishing goals for the next school year, emphasizing
what she called "the other side of the report card:" concerns about
friendship, fear, goal setting, being creative, learning "not just
textbook" (Int 7/8/88). Mrs. E.'s caring attitude had become a
benchmark of her teaching early in her career, when she first taught in
a southern industrial city. She reported that she had refused to paddle
students in a school where "everyone had paddled -- for ayatythlag -- if
they stayed too long in the restroom, if they talked, if they didn't get
their work done..." Mrs. E. was adamant about her belief, although the
principal had told her "You'll change your mind, soon enough!" She did

not, although "it took two or three months to get across to the kids

43
that you care about them, and that's why you didn't paddle" (Int
10/21/87).

Mrs. E.'s students' views matched her self-perceptions as a caring
individual. One student, Ricardo, pointed out that the kind of learning
provided in Mrs. E.'s room could make a difference in the world,
especially "if we had teachers like Mrs. E. who‘re nice enough to give
you a chance" (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Parents saw Mrs. E. as a distinguished and outstanding teacher.2
One parent told her "it's a miracle" what Mrs. E. had accomplished with
her son, who she never expected even to speak, that year, due to
problems incurred in another school district (N PC 1/5/89).

When students were unable to concentrate, Mrs. E. devised special
"centering” activities, with the help of a book for teachers and some
special New Age music she provided. She spent only five minutes calming
the students; "it worked!” she pointed out to me, as children responded
to her in hushed voices (Fld 10/24/88).

Mrs. E.'s humanistic concerns were evident not only in the way she
approached the students, and in her organization of instruction, but
also in what knowledge she chose to include and stress in the
curriculum. When she introduced the native American unit, Mrs. E.
provided additional input regarding the difficult living conditions
these Americans have faced. The following statement reflects Mrs. E.'s
personal concerns and experiences revealing the plight of native
Americans, which she shared with her students:

They were called savages, not people. And they were
thought of as being less than people. This social
studies book does a better job than the old ones, of
presenting their situation, but when you see it in

person, it's worse...in Scottsdale, Arizona, as you drive
up this one road, on one side, you have a rich community

44
and on the other side, you have an Indian reservation.
It is so striking, the difference...they're not the
people living in poverty, either...up north...where the
Four Corners are, you will see Indians walking in the
middle of nowhere, and it is 110 degrees. You wonder how
they can do it. Their houses are hovels...the land...
gets depleted...there's illness. If kids grow up and go
to school, they usually don't move back. The incidence
of alcoholism is very high, and tuberculosis.
(Fld 10/4/88)

Mrs. E. was caring, selective, independent, and nonconformist.
Although helpful and collegial to her peers, she also had her own
opinions. For example, she did not agree with the rest of the teachers,
who, she reported, would "hang her" if they knew she was complaining
about the extra planning the district had allotted elementary classroom
teachers, providing teacher release time by booking more student time
with art, music, and physical education specialists. The others saw it
as a gift to them; she saw it as a "loss for the students," since they
would have less time for integration of subjects, spending more time
fragmented with the various specialists.

Everything she did had her own personal touch. The cooperative
group units were her own design and a "tradition" of hers at Lincoln
Elementary School. Mrs. E. was familiar with many specialists on
cooperative group learning, but still chose to create her own terms to
talk about what she was doing. Instead of standard terms such as MACL,
CGL, CL, she coined her own: cooperative teaching, or cooperative
education. Her individualistic approach was not because a lack of
knowledge, but rather a synthesis or combination of the writing of

various people. When I asked who she was using as models, she informed

me:

45
Johnson and Slavin and Cohen: a little bit of each one is
called salad bowl. That kind of follows my philosophy.
I don't like predisposed or preconceived notions about
the kids' abilities.
(Tr Int 11/17/88)

Mrs. E. approached her teaching with seriousness but also a dollop
of humor, as she showed in labeling her approach "salad bowl." A very
reflective teacher, she adapted her instruction constantly according to
her current perceptions of the needs of the students. One example of
this concerned a rule she had made about the reading corner, which had
two beanbag chairs in it. Because students often crowded around this
area, Mrs. E. had told them that only three students could be there at a
time. One day, she returned after lunch, to find four people in the
group. Onochie sat next to Megen on one beanbag; Robbie rested with his
head on the periphery of Emily's. Mrs. E. surveyed the situation and
commented to me: "My rule is usually three, but this group seems to be
able to handle it. Maybe I should change the rule to be about noise"
(Fld 10/4/88).

She was always willing to reassess and change, according to the
most recent evidence. Mrs. E.'s statement to me in one informal chat,
"I have rethought what we'll be doing," was typical of her reflective
stance to her teaching practice. In this case, she had made the
decision, "I think I need to have the group work be more open ended"
(Int 11/7/88). This orientation to her teaching practice was not
surprising, given the kinds of things she found inspiring in people who

had taught her; she used words like "creative," "unique," "dynamic" (Tr

Int 11/17/88).

46

With reference to her use of cooperative group work, she described
it as having "evolved" out of the needs of the students and her own
needs, as well.

It's evolved; it's come just from looking at groups and
seeing what they need, looking at the curriculum, and
seeing how I can use that curriculum to meet those needs;
and sometimes, because I enjoy doing it, it comes out of
my own experiences and joys and thinking about my own
children...when they've come home and excited about
things, usually those were the teachers with a not paper-
pencil traditional basis of doing things -- yet they've
accomplished so much more.

(Tr Int 11/17/88)

Her reasons for teaching cooperation were based on multiple
factors, which included philosophical concerns, professional concerns
about learning, and psychological concerns both for the students and for
herself. Mrs. E. claimed that having students work together "can
strengthen their knowledge” (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Most of all, she said, she taught "to please kids":

not only curriculum, I always teach the curriculum and I
always teach...my goals and the district goals but I
teach to please kids, because I want them to be
comfortable in that classroom every day.

(Tr Int ll/l7/88)

By offering cooperative group activities, Mrs. E. encouraged the
students to feel ownership of their classroom. When they were preparing
for parent visitation evening, she said to the class, "Look at the room.
Do you see anything else that needs to be done? This is your party,
your room. You want it to look nice" (Fld 9/24/88).

Mrs. E. spent extra time and effort to make the classroom special
for students. She framed and displayed the students' art projects as it

was difficult for the art specialist, who was not always in the

building. When the other teacher realized what Mrs. E. had done, she

47
thanked Mrs. E., who responded, ”It's my job; well, maybe it isn't my
job, but I do it, anyway!" (Fld 9/29/88). Several times during the
observation period, Mrs. E. spent prolonged periods working on special
projects after school or on weekends, sometimes with the help of her
husband. It may have been her eighteenth year of teaching, but she was
not doing the “same old things.“

Several times during my visits, Mrs. E. shared information she had
read in teacher's journals and other sources of research on education,
hunting down the sources and encouraging me to read and share them with
the students in the teacher preparation foundations classes I taught.

In addition, Mrs. E.'s colleagues sought her expertise, frequently
borrowing materials or sharing resources Mrs. E. had located (Int
10/18/88; Int 10/10/88; Fld 11/18/88). When a teacher left this school
to join her husband in another state, Mrs. E. made a special gift of
several teacher resource books she thought the friend would need for her
new job.

Although this particular school did not have apparent problems
related to social class differences, Mrs. E. maintained a strong concern
about social issues. She lived those concerns, raising her own children
to be social advocates for the downtrodden. Mrs. E. explained that she
and her husband "had tried to instill this commitment" in their
children, as a family (Int 11/3/88).

The reason for the planned early retirement was not because Mrs. E.
was tired of teaching; she said she had "enough money” and wanted to do
something more for children. She had considered several possibilities,
including working with minority students from ”tough” inner-city

neighborhoods of a large metropolis who moved and transferred into local

48
area elementary schools. Mrs. E. perceived that these students did not
know how to ”play the school game" and that she could help them to

acquire the knowledge and requisite social skills to succeed.

RESEARCH ORIENTATION

The study was qualitative in approach following the interpretive
research tradition which Cusick represents, assuming that a small
in-depth study would be more valuable than a large superficial sample,
because "participation on an intimate level gives one an access to the
deeper life and the deeper meanings of the institution" (1983, p. 7).
And, I would add, of the individual.

Utilizing methods of fieldwork, participant observation, teaching
as research, and interviewing, I conducted the study over a three-month
period, with one additional day two months later allotted for follow-up
interviews with the teacher and ten students.

The study focused on learning as a part of everyday events in the
classroom (Cazden, 1986). Within these contexts, people played a
central role through face-to-face interactions (Gumperz, 1977, 1982;
Hymes, 1982). The students and teacher mutually established and
negotiated the interactions, jointly constructing and interpreting what
they were doing through communication (Erickson & Shultz, 1977).

The local meaning of interactive events was determined through
methods of inductive analysis and sociolinguistic analysis of data from
observations of what participants said and did to accomplish cooperative

activity, and also through interpretation of students' group

49
storywriting. Supplementary data from interviews further explicated the
participants' perspectives.

Transcripts were prepared according to the system developed by
Jefferson (1978) (See Appendix A). Categories emerged (were extracted)
as a result of inductive analysis of the data (Erickson, 1986).

Information from out-of-school contexts such as experiences in the
home and in organized sports, as well as global perspectives of
students, was used, because the meanings of cooperation which resulted
from these experiences provided a backdrop against which students made
sense of the classroom c00perative learning activities. This particular
body of information emerged from private interviews with students. Many
of the questions utilized came from hypotheses about the nature of
students' preexisting views of cooperation from outside contexts; some
ideas emerged from my experiences and observations independent of the
research itself, representing an attempt to connect the meaning of this
local research with larger societal issues.

These previous experiences of students provided insight into
student perceptions of cooperation and their construction of meaning
within the initiation of the cooperative process. The role of context,
including both the students' dual context of obligations and rights, and
the teacher's macro context, was incorporated into the discussion.

Although certain students were utilized as informants more than
others, it was not necessary to identify and isolate informants, as the
class was so small. All of the participating students were interviewed,
with the exception of Hasaan, who moved before the major portion of the
interviewing process began. Figure 9 indicates codings for the

teacher's and students' names.

50

 

Figure 9

Coding of Participants:

 

Code N S u ent
Ap April

As Asbeid
Ct Courtney
Em Emily

Gi Gilberto
Hs Hasaan
Js Joshua
Li Lina

Mg Megen

Mi Michael
MS Mun Sing
On Onochie
Ri Ricardo
Rb Robbie
Si Sivan

Wi Willie
ME Mrs. E.

 

I traced how definitions of cooperation and participation, with
corresponding rights and obligations, changed within and across various
contexts. Of particular interest was when, and in what way, students'
views differed from those of the teacher, and from each other; and how
the differences affected perception of what was "happening," i.e., what

was "cooperative," or not.

RESEARCH QUESTIONS

The key question at the start of the study was:
HOW DO TEACHER/STUDENTS MAKE SENSE OF AND RESPOND TO THE
NOTION OF COOPERATING, IN TEACHING/LEARNING COOPERATIVE
GROUP LEARNING IN A FIFTH GRADE CLASSROOM?

Subsidiary questions included the following:

51

A. What are the teacher's beliefs about what cooperation
is, and how she can best teach students to cooperate;
and what does she identify as the constraints and
problems in teaching cooperation?

B. What are the teacher's beliefs about the role of
conflict in the cooperative process? What are the
teacher's goals, in terms of conflict?

C. What are the students' beliefs about what cooperation
is, what cooperative contexts are, why and how they
learn to cooperate, and the problems of learning
cooperation?

D. What are the tasks and activities that the teacher
and students do, to make sense together of the
cooperative process?

E. What is the change over time in teacher/student
beliefs and actions? How do definitions of
cooperation change over time, for teacher and for
students? What influences the change?

A switch in the focus of data collection occurred halfway through
the three-month period, as'a result of two changes. One was the effects
of the standardization of the curriculum on the teacher. Noting that I
was "one more constraint, or one more variable she had to balance when
deciding what to do with the kids," I feared that my presence might be
an additional pressure and imposition on the teacher, who was facing
added demands and feeling stress. I began to shift my focus of
attention away from the teacher, after Mrs. E. expressed concern about
her ability to do as much in-depth cooperative work with students
because of the new district requirements. As a result of this shift, I
began to spend more time with the students, which was appropriate anyhow
because of a growing interest in the possibility that students were
thinking about cooperation as compliance. I began, at that point in

November, to conduct private interviews with students. The effect of

shift in data collection is the great amount of information about

52
individual student perceptions about what it meant to cooperate. This

might never have occurred had there been no district change in context.

GENERALIZEABILITY

In quantitative terms, this study is negligible. The sample is
exceedingly small, involving only one classroom, and the time period was
relatively short, although I obtained rich data from the 90 hours of
observation and transcripts drawn from the 40 hours of audiotapes of
student interviews. The teacher herself mentioned a year later she
wished I could have returned to see the "end result." The study does
not represent a typical public school classroom, in terms of the
"teacher-pleasing" fifth graders, supportive and well-educated parents,
and the experienced, humanistic, innovative teacher.

However, the unusual confluence of circumstances was a strength of
this study, for it enabled the removal of variables that normally
confound the interactive CGL situation, so that other factors could be
brought to light.

One other issue is how -- or if -- this study could contribute to
our knowledge about CGL by comparison with other studies, as part of a
meta—analysis of CGL effects. It is doubtful that this type of study
would "fit," since the teacher's approach was eclectic and not specific
to a particular program such as Finding Out/Descubrimiento (FOD) (Cohen,
1987) or Student Teams-Achievement Divisions (STAD) (Slavin, 1980). On
the other hand, although the study does not fit a neatly-prearranged
category, the fact that the teacher did not use only one approach may

more closely approximate the reality of teaching, in which teachers

53
select ideas from and base ideas on many sources, in order to deal with
the complexities of everyday teaching.

Despite what it is not, the study provides an in-depth look at
things that are only summarily dealt with in other methodologies, in
terms of sense making of the teacher and students about cooperation and
the dilemmas and paradoxes involved in instituting a nontraditional
practice such as CGL in the classroom. This study illuminates the real
world, where teachers draw from multiple sources and students come from
diverse backgrounds. It contributes to our understanding of how
teachers and students in schools interpret and create meaning out of
experiences designed to promote cooperation, and it points to concerns
about switches in paradigms from traditional to nontraditional teaching

and learning.

DATA COLLECTION

Data included fieldnotes, xerox copies of selected student work,
notes of telephone conversations with the teacher, photographs of the
classroom displays of children's work, and 40 hours of audio tapes. The
tapes included students' conversations recorded during group work
sessions and interviews with students and teacher. Data were drawn from
planned cooperative group learning contexts, as well as from informal or
spontaneous student-created peer learning situations.

Interviewing the students added a further perspective, and
gradually took the form of personal discussions, which elicited some
very philosophical reflection from some of the students. There were 34

formal interviews conducted with students, 31 of which were taped;

54
several included more than one person. Interviews with the teacher
numbered 20, 3 of which were formally taped sessions. From the tapes,
48 transcripts were developed and analyzed.

To understand the participants' perspectives, I played multiple
roles, not only observing and inquiring, but also teaching occasionally.
In October, I conducted a lesson on the identification of various native
American artifacts; and later, I designed and taught the four-day
storywriting unit.

I selected the theme of conflict, resolution, and cooperation,
based upon my assumption that that was what they were learning to do:
resolve differences and learn to cooperate. Stanford (1977) writes of
conflict as a necessary part, or stage, of learning to cooperate in CGL.
I had begun the study interested in the role of conflict in this
classroom learning process; now, I wanted to see what they had learned
about it, and thought I could find out best by assigning an interpretive
topic that was open-ended for students' responses.

Small as this study was, with only 16 individuals, I did feel it
was necessary to select specific "informants." Nevertheless, I found in
retrospect that I had interviewed certain individuals, such as Courtney,
Robbie, Joshua, and Mun Sing, more often than others, unconsciously
choosing to talk with the students who were more outgoing and who voiced

a desire to share their ideas with me.

CONFIDENTIALITY

A major issue of all research in the public schools is that the

parents of students have informed choice as to whether or not their

55
child will participate in the study. To provide such information, Mrs.
E. sent home a letter to each parent explaining the study before it
began, and then invited them to talk with me further at the schools'
parent night, scheduled in September. In addition to the letter, a
short explanation of the study and consent forms were provided. Parents
were requested to sign the form that indicated their preference, and
return it to the school. Mrs. E. kept the signed parent slips in her
classroom.

In accordance with her invitation, I was available in the classroom
during parent visitation; Mrs. E. preferred that no formal presentation
be made, but rather that I be available to chat informally with
interested parents, which I did.

About a week after I spoke with parents, I made a short
presentation in the classroom, explaining further the research project
to the students, and their right also to consent or not to participate
in the study. Thus, the opportunity to abstain from the study was
provided on a dual level, for both parents aag students, to further
protect the rights of the students.

It was explained that if the parents consented, but the student did
not, then the child would have the last “say" not to participate in the
study. If, however, the parent rejected participation, but the child
gave consent, the school and researcher would honor the wishes of the
parent first. The child still would not participate.

At that time, all students but one had obtained parental consent to
participate. All students signed the form giving their assent to
participate in the study; the student whose parent had refused

permission asked Mrs. E. for another slip, so s/he could ask the parent

56
to give consent. However, the parent remained adamant that this child
was aat to be in the study. This provided further dilemmas, which are
described later in this section.
To protect the identity of the participants, I have assigned

pseudonyms. That is also true of the site.

ANALYSIS

Based on the idea that the social act is an event, which is decoded
as meaning by the interactants, the research focused on data gathered
from the observable acts, including speech events, of individuals (Mead,
1934; Leach, 1976). Interactants make sense of these events, of course,
based upon previous events, which have formed their current notions of
reality (Berger & Luckmann, 1967; Mehan & Wood, 1975).

To understand the ways that participants in the study constructed
meaning of their events, I examined such data as the utterances,
actions, products, and subsequent self-reports of the teacher and the
students. The utterances and behaviors of teacher and students, as well
as students' written stories about cooperation, were the main units of
analysis.

Acknowledging that meaning is context specific and the same
utterance can mean different things in different contexts, I examined
utterances in terms of occupants (status relationships and accompanying
roles), activity, perception (by the occupants), and control (who
controlled the frame and which occupants controlled other occupants)
(Cazden, 1986; Erickson, 1971; Green, 1983). Identifying who spoke, and

who did not, and how students determined the right to speak, I then

57
interpreted how cooperation was played out in the interactions of
students in group learning (Sacks, Schegloff, & Jefferson, 1978; Cohen,
1986).

In addition to sociolinguistic analysis, I also analyzed student
stories, assuming that literature is symbolic and that stories aaaa
something, or are as Eagleton (1983) says, "acts of enunciation." I
explored the relationship of the cooperation not of students within
groups, but of the thatattets they created in the stories. What made
these stories so unique was they were created through a process of
agclal construction; the portraits of reality they represent, being
socially-agreed upon phenomena regarding what it means to cooperate.
Analysis focused on the power structures and relationships of the
characters portrayed, as well as the views of participants in the groups

on what their roles were in the creation process.

INTERPRETATION: POTENTIAL FLAWS

An additional potential flaw revolves around my presuming to have
interpreted what Mrs. E. -- or anyone else, for that matter -- really
meant. I feel, in retrospect, that many of my talks with the teacher,
in particular, were oblique and implicit and I did not ask the right
questions. I realized, after reading Campbell's discussion in Berkey et
a1. (1989), of the problem of attempting as a researcher to represent
the "voice" of a participant/colleague, that this is a potential flaw in
any interpretive study which does not include fully the perspective of

the participants. And it is incredibly presumptious for a researcher to

58
"represent" a teacher's thoughts, in their "best interests" (Foucault,
1977).

Some of Mrs. E.'s "voice" may be underrepresented, because I shied
away from probing questions, in the attempt to avoid adding stress to
what I perceived to be an already overburdened context. I felt
compassion for Mrs. E., and I also feared to tread on a potentially
explosive situation which had the potential effect of having Mrs. E.
cancel doing any more cooperative group learning, which would have
simultaneously terminated my research project. Therefore, because of my
own fears, I did not ask in particular instances if she would talk about
her assumptions, or about decisions in her practice. My work on the
dilemmas in teaching practice lacks the depth it might have had with
greater input from Mrs. E.

I also find problematic the data from the final class discussion.
The situation seemed so obvious, I would never have thought to ask the
teacher ghaaa point of view she was representing in that class
discussion. After all, she was sitting in the front of the classroom,
teaching the class. What she said, I presumed, represented her own
thinking. Now, I realize that my presence in the classroom could have
influenced what Mrs. E. said, since I was observing what she said about
the stories that the students had written when 1 had been the teacher.3

I had failed to consider that Mrs. E., like I, was acting in a dual
role. In that context, she was both teacher and observer of what
students had produced while 1 had been the teacher. In a sense, Mrs. E.
was being the researcher, observing what the students had accomplished
with my teaching. Did she think the conclusions students had drawn

about what was cooperative, were something I had taught them? Did she

59
validate their responses that sometimes it is cooperative to withdraw,
in the attempt to be supportive and nonevaluative of what 1 had done?
Was she protecting me because it involved my professional relationship
with her as a collaborator? Was she reacting with those middle class
eyes Paley (1979) talks about, not willing to point out what might be
sensitive or embarrassing -- especially, since it might be questioning
me in front of the group? Could it be, that while I was assuming she
was representing hat viewpoint, she was assuming that she was
representing alga? Was this a major ttampa_glaall regarding the roles
she and I were playing?

The flaws inherent in attempts to reconstruct preclude my having
any "conclusive" information on these questions. I have retained the
analysis in my discussion of Mrs. E. and how she thought about
cooperation because there is evidence that this was compatible with
comments she made previously with regard to students' withdrawal from
group work previous to the class discussion in question. But
interpretation is problematic -- the obvious is not always as it seems,
and my presence as researcher compounded the complexity of the situation

and the meanings and interpretations of the participants.

ADDITIONAL METHODOLOGICAL CONCERNS

As a participant observer, one dilemma was how to meet the
teacher's expectations and description to the class and principal of me
as "just another pair of hands," and yet not alter in some unintended
way the students' interactions or interpretations. Insights on this

issue were offered by Corsaro (1981), who blended into a preschool

60
setting, recognized by the students as one of "them," but simply bigger
-- known as ”Big Bill." However, my job was not that simple, as the
teacher wanted me to function partly as a ”teacher." Attempting to
balance my presence as an adult teacher/expert/observer/inquirer, with a
desire to be "invisible" at times, was a challenge. There were often
times when students would stop interactions, to check what I was
writing. They were concerned about my writing ”everything they said"
and from time to time made such comments as "I'm glad you're not writing
down my growling." One time, two students slipped into a fabricated
"foreign language"; when I commented that it would be difficult to write
that down, one informed me "I know, that's why we're doing it" (Fld
10/10/88).

Another problem was how I might, as participant observer, make
suggestions or contributions without interfering with students' working
things out for themselves. If I interfered, what would I learn from the
students? When was it worth it to forego that information, so that I
could learn under what circumstances a teacher's comments could make a
positive impact upon group interactions? Sometimes, my comments
encouraged students to participate; still, I was interfering. Under the
worst of circumstances, my interference may have backfired and led to
negative student reactions to peers.

Another dilemma was how to conduct interviews during the academic
task activity, i.e., informally ask questions without interfering with
the natural process. Just by posing a question, I was instilling
certain kinds of thoughts in the heads of students. In the end, Mrs. E.
described the response of one student as being more "philosophical"

because of the questioning. But was that the purpose of the study?

61
Acknowledging that researcher presence has effects on the subjects, how
could I use these findings to add to the body of knowledge of teaching
cooperation, i.e., how could my input aa_taaaatahat help teachers to
know more about classroom instruction for teaching cooperation?

A further dilemma I faced was how to ask candid questions so as not
to offend the person being questioned. I was particularly sensitive,
toward the middle of the research period, in asking sensitive questions
to the teacher. I felt that she was under so much stress from other
contexts and concerns, that if I added to the stress, she might refuse
me further entry.

I had similar concerns regarding students: I had made explicit the
understanding that students could withdraw any time. Because of this, I
reasoned, if I made them uncomfortable, they would do just that:
withdraw. I was wrong on both counts; but this was a recurring fear of
mine as a researcher, and something which I had to work to overcome.
Through the interviewing process, I learned that I could ask personal,
tough questions about what teacher and/or students were saying and

doing, and get honest, candid responses.

RESEARCHER AS TEACHER

A concern in this study was my dual role as researcher and
sometimes teacher. Mrs. E. introduced me to the principal, students,
and parents as ”another pair of hands," i.e., another teacher. She
encouraged me to act as teacher, to design lessons and even a unit,
which I myself would teach, to further my inquiry and increase my

insights of the teacher's perspective.

62

However, my acting as teacher created further problems, one of
which was how to teach the entire class, and involve all students, when
one was denied parental consent to participate in the study. I could
not, on the other hand, leave the student out of an all-class activity,
because that student wanted very much to be a part of what we were
doing. Further, I was taping all groups. I had to develop transcripts
which accurately portrayed the student interactions, yet leave out one
student to protect his/her identity. I have done this, knowing that
leaving one person out creates gaps at times in the discourse, and omits
information which could illustrate certain points and be useful to the
reader. To counter this problem, I generally did not focus upon group
work which included this child, but rather focused upon others.

The issue of my presence raised other questions, related to the
ethnographic ideal that Campbell (1988) refers to as "neutrality and
nonintervention." Although it was implicitly related to Mrs. E.'s
organization and goals, she never explicitly named what she was doing
with the students as cooperation. She always said groupwork or working
in groups. It was 1 who infused the word into the classroom context.

Because I introduced it, I did discover something interesting about
it that might never have emerged without my explicit referrals to
cooperation as representative of what they were working on. I wonder,
however, how much the different conceptions would have interfered with
the development of cooperation if the word itself had never been used in
the discussion? Would it have been -- albeit ironically -- better hat
to use the word cooperation when teaching it, because of the potential

negative connotations?

63

I never intended to study my own role as participant, the same way
I was going to study Mrs. E.'s; it was not part of the design, and I
collected no special data on the subject. Yet, in the end, I was
compelled to include myself in this, because the data I collected
indicated that I, too, had influenced the students -- in ways never
anticipated or intended; and the problematic nature of my encounters
with students had to be aired.

In retrospect, I am troubled about some aspects of my participation
in the learning of these students, and pleased with others. I learned
that the participatory aspects of being a researcher are much like
Lampert's (1985) description of being a teacher: complex, fraught with
dilemmas about decisions, some of which may be the "least of the two
evils."

I was not sure I should teach; I was uneasy about impacts on the
students; yet I felt an obligation to respond to the teacher's requests
also. The experience helped me to understand better the element of
agony in going back and reflecting upon one's impact as a practitioner
on interactions with children. In fact, there was a time during the
data analysis, as I listened to a tape recording of my interactions with
one group, when I actually began to question the effectiveness of my
entire practice of over twenty years. Putting me in the shoes of the

teacher was illuminating on many levels.
SPECIFIC CHALLENGES

It is the nature of ethnographic research that the question can

change, according to what the researcher is seeing during observations.

4

64
In addition, perspectives can change during analysis of the data. This
is both an advantage and a disadvantage. On the positive side, this
provides an advantage over prearranging the categories to be considered,
prestructuring the interpretation and thus predetermining to some extent
the type of outcome considered. It allows what happens within the site
to help shape the questions.

However, it is also limiting in some respects, and can result in
incomplete data. What I wanted to look for at the end was different
than at the beginning. I was assuming common conceptions of notions
such as cooperation and friendship; only after I discovered that the
participants were utilizing multiple meanings did I seek more specific
information in the form of student interviews.

It was difficult, grappling with the ambiguities and
contradictions in the concepts I had assumed I and the others understood
in a common way. I only began to ask the students midway through the
Indian unit questions of meaning. I did not ask about world views until
long after the end of the three-month initiatory period of CGL. There
was no way to go back and reconstruct to be certain about how the
participants would have talked about cooperation hefgte they began CGL,
and therefore, no way to compare progress and note certain kinds of
change.

An entire year after the study, I realized how important certain
aspects of the students' thinking were; I was able to utilize the data
to trace back and note important changes and developments in two
students' thinking. However, the data on others was too fragmented.
From the limited information, I assume the possibility for similar kinds

of developments in other students. However, there is simply no way to

65
know if the two cases are at all representative of the rest of their
peers. They have to stand as examples of what (some) children are

capable of doing.

66
NOTES

1 Ricardo contrasted Lincoln School with an inner-urban school he had
previously attended; the latter had problems of violence and disorder
because, he said, "there's a lot of poverty in [the city], and
poverty causes distress and distress causes anger and anger causes
violence" (Tr Int 2/24/89).

2 A colleague of mine, for example, in a private conversation with me
had acknowledged Mrs. E. as the most outstanding teacher in the
school, in recognition of her attitudes and instructional techniques
which celebrated diversity. Other parents have also indicated
similar opinions, in informal settings.

3 Mrs. E. had been out of the classroom, ill, part of the time that I
worked on the writing portion of the project.

4 Regarding the openness on the students' part, Mrs. E. felt that it
was because they were protected and knew they "would not be hurt."

Examples of questioning in sensitive areas with students include the
following:

1) I asked the Southeast Group what they could tell me about the
taped incident in which Asbeid said he did not want to work with
Gilberto.

2) I asked Mun if he was being cooperative, fighting with Lina over
a chair.

3) I asked Robbie what he meant when he said, "I hate democracy."

Chapter 3

TEACHER, MEANING, AND POWER

MEANINGS BROUGHT TO THE LEARNING CONTEXT BY THE TEACHER

Mrs. E. initiated the teaching of cooperation with a goal which
extended beyond the classroom, to the global future and promotion of
peace by students' increasing self-awareness and improving interpersonal
relationships. Mrs. E. wanted students to develop awareness of the
connection between interacting and learning from each other: "to realize
they can strengthen their knowledge by working with someone else" (Tr
Int 2/24/89).

Mrs. E.'s evaluation of students' academic learning in groups
emphasized both the social interactive process and the product. It was
the aapaata of product that were particularly relevant. Early in the
year, Mrs. E. assigned a cooperative project related to a book one group
had read from the "Narnia" series; groups of four would develop a list
of the character traits for each of four main characters in the book.

At the end of the time allotted, Mrs. E. reconvened the two groups, to
discuss academic and social progress. Both groups had discussed only
two of the four assigned characters. Courtney's group had developed a
schema with the name of the character in the center and lines coming out
like spokes of a wheel. It was filled with words. At first glance, it
appeared that her group had done more work than Robbie's. Courtney had
written down virtually everything anyone had said, including many words
with similar meanings; while Robbie's group had taken time to discuss

words which were similar and to select the most appropriate descriptor.

67

68

Mrs. E., noting the groups' charts, suggested that it may have
appeared to Rob's group that "They did more than we did." She
explained,

The quantity is not more important than the quality.

This group might have consolidated and figured out the
relationships. You may have written fewer ideas, but got
your palht across.

(Fld 10/4/88) (See Data in Appendix B)

Mrs. E.'s statement also served to discourage competition between
the two groups and encouraged the groups to reflect on hay they had
thought out the concepts and to judge their work on its own merit.
Although neither group finished the chart and both needed to work on two
of the four characters listed, Mrs. E. never talked of their need to
tlhlah the product. Instead, she emphasized the quality and process:
consolidating and figuring out relationships of those characteristics
students had listed.

That paralleled her encouragement to students to figure out social
relationships through group interaction, moving beyond egocentrism:
"leaving behind the 'me' stage-~the egocentric stage [to] think in terms
of other people; away from self-interest." Mrs. E. felt if they could
develop this expanded social awareness, then they would also feel better
about themselves "because they can see themselves in light of another
person" (Tr Int 2/24/89). If students could "learn how to live with
each other," the social interactional skills would serve as
"tactics...for dealing with drastically different situations," such as
entering middle school (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Although Mrs. E. wanted students "to accept other peoples' ideas

and be opeh to another person's ideas;" at the same time she encouraged

69
students to maintain their own individuality in the process, maintaining
"their own thoughts and guidelines" (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Group discussions focused not only on academics, but also on the
interactive process. For example, when Mrs. E. discussed issues of
excellence with the "Narnia" reading group, she also focused on how
students had interacted with each other. From students' responses, Mrs.
E. suggested specific things to try in the future, to improve social
relationships during group work, such as listening to each other and
letting everyone provide input (Fld 10/4/88).

Later, when she had integrated the entire class into CGL, she held
similar class discussions stressing the process. The first such
discussion began with a request by Mrs. E. for students to talk about
some of the things that "bothered” them in the group so they could "iron
out some of the problems.” From the various student responses, she
synthesized their ideas, writing on the board: 1) Stick to the task, 2)
Give everyone a chance, 3) Accept everyone else, 4) Do your share, 5)
Talk about things. Although some of the student responses indicated
that they were concerned about completion of task, Mrs. E. never talked
about products in this discussion.

When she asked students what they llhag about groups, they talked
about ease of the task, with more ideas from peers and being social,
getting to know each other, having fun. Mrs. E. also felt that these
social aspects were important; to her, they had global implications
because "this world is growing so small." By helping "these children
coming from all over the world to learn more about each other," Mrs. E.

felt she had the patahtlal to help improve world relations in the future

70

(Tr Int 11/17/88). She predicted that many of the children would become

leaders; and,

that leadership may take them anyyhare in the world and
...there are certain things they need to be aware of: how
to get along with others and how to accept them.

(Tr Int 2/24/89)

What she wanted students to learn in the classroom was "compromise

in broken relations." She hoped that "if they start it out here, maybe

some latent effect will go through!" (Tr Int ll/l7/88). She likened the

school learning about cooperation to the pebble metaphor:

Mrs.

It's kind of like when you throw a stone in the water,
and it makes waves. That's kind of what you live in.
We're part of a very big world. We need to learn how to
UNDERSTAND each other, how to LISTEN to each other.

(Fld 10/27/88)

E expressed her global concerns not only to me, but also

directly to the students, speaking of problems within our society, and

relating them to world-wide situations, which needed to be addressed by

people "working together":

It's important, in this world, that we learn how to work
and cooperate with each other. It can't be just "my" way
all the time. Some people constantly have the "me" idea,
and other people don't count, so we have wars and drugs
sold...we have people who need to be Number One, and we
need to learn how to work in groups. The whole world
needs to work together.

(Fld 10/27/88)

 

In this statement, Mrs. E. was concerned about egocentrism ("the

'me' idea") in our own society and individuals who "don't worry about

what happens to others." She related the issues of the "selfish

individual" and not ”caring" about others to her goals of having them

work ”in groups" so that in the future, people would work together on a

71
world-wide basis. Mrs. E. therefore had presented a holistic system
with far-reaching implications to her students.

These original goals remained intact throughout the initiatory
unit. A month after the Indian unit had ended, in the final class
discussion I observed, she was still referring to global problems and
the need to "think together":

In this world today, if people don't start thinking

together...we're gonna have a wgtlg that'a lost. We need
to learn to work together to solve those problems.

(CD 12/15/88)
Other than these occasional remarks about social and global
connections, Mrs. E. did not do a lot of ”tataal" teaching of

c00peration -- it occurred in the process, she told me (Tr Int 2/24/89).

EXPANDED MEANINGS: RECONCILING THE IDEAL WITH THE REALITIES

The major CGL project during my research, the Indian unit, began on
October 4. A seven-week project, it involved students' working together
extensively on research projects, to create murals, reports, and
simulated artifacts, including clay bowls, woven baskets, an ornate
potlatch box. Students also constructed representative clothing: a
heavily-fringed shawl, vest, skirt, leggings with criss-crossed
bandolier, mocassins with side lacing, and Haida hats from which stared
enigmatically many eyes.

Two weeks into this unit, an event in the district happened which
was to affect social studies instruction including curricular content
and organization, and the teacher's interpretations of cooperation. At

a district- wide meeting of all fifth grade teachers, Mrs. E. learned

72
that they would henceforth be required to cover all of the material in
the social studies book. Previous to this time, Mrs. E. had been able
to selectively choose which material to cover and elaborate (Int
10/21/88).

Even before the mandate of new requirements, Mrs. E. had expressed
a concern about time, related to other changes on the district level.
One concern was the provision of more specialist time, to allow
classroom teachers more time for planning. Mrs. E. said that this took
away from her time with the students; in effect rather than the gain
intended by district officials, it was an hour and half "laa_" in terms
of what she wanted to accomplish with the kids (Fld 10/21/88).

The timing of the change in requirements was particularly
problematic, then, since Mrs. E. already felt pressed for time. In
addition, the year was in progress and now there was no time to plan for
this change. Now, she faced the dilemma of how to meet the requirements
of covering more material in less time and thus satisfy the
administration while still meeting expectations of parents and other
students and teachers in the building, who anticipated student
presentations about the Indian unit. She found herself in a complex
predicament of having to make curricular revisions to fit multiple
criteria.

The new mandate impacted the way Mrs. E. talked about time with her
students and affected changes in her curricular decisions regarding the
Indian unit as well as other social studies content. It altered the way
she viewed conflict, even changed the way she spatially responded to the

classroom.

73

Although it was not unusual for her to express general concern
about time to me, after the announcement of the new requirement she also
began to specify to students her concerns about time. A week after the
district meeting, Mrs. E. began to share her concerns about time with
the students. Mrs. E. read a native American myth lent by the Cherokee
grandfather of one student. Commenting "Isn't that a marvelous way of
explaining nature?" she responded unhurriedly to comments and questions
of students. Suddenly, she switched the discussion to concerns about
time:

"I'm getting antsy; there are only 54 more days before
the end of the [calendar] year. Two of those days, we
have for conference time."

Mun Sing, an empathic student who often expressed concern
for the teacher's welfare, added: "And a lot of half
days."

Mrs. E. confirmed: "And a lot of half days. You have
your daily assignments; I also have a greater assignment
that covers the whole year.. " Courtney inquired: "How
many days in school are left?" Mrs. E: "Maybe 18 days
this month and 15 next month..."

(Fld 10/25/88)

Mrs. E. was worried -- 54 days might aeem like a lot of time, but
she had already ruled out those days not alloted for classroom
instruction, and pared the number to 33. Her use of specific numbers,
along with relating her feelings of anxiety, drew students into the
concern about how much time they had.

Mrs. E. became impatient with the amount of time students took
working on group projects: "This took 30 seconds; 30 seconds is a lot of
time to waste" (Fld 10/27/88). I had never before heard Mrs. E. speak

of a time frame like 30 seconds. Knowing how easy-going she appeared in

her teaching, this comment appeared unusual; however, it made sense,

r—

74
given her growing concern about not having enough time to accomplish her
"larger assignment.” She urged students to be punctual returning from
library group research time:
If I say 11:45 is the time to return, you need to be
back. Today, it took a lot of time. We lost about ten
minutes. This is a problem with your Indian unit --
you're wasting time on organizing. It just takes at much
time.
(Fld 11/1/88)
Mrs. E. shared with the students her anxiety about all the things she
was expected to do:
We are running out of time. We have Bill Brittain (a
visiting author) coming tomorrow, and the shadow boxes to
finish, and science projects. It's mind boggling.

Mrs. E. felt like she was "running out of time," and, although she
expressed multiple concerns, she still related the problem to social
studies as the greatest area of distress. After addressing the class,
she turned to me, and added: "I kind of knew it was going to ha like
this, with the new curriculum!" (Fld 11/3/88). Mrs. E.'s concerns about
time were a confluence of three critical variables in her teaching
situation: the increased requirements in the social studies curriculum;
her having already chosen to extend one chapter into a unit; and
utilizing cooperative group learning, which takes more time to
implement.

Mrs. E.'s worry about time even affected the very pace at which she
spoke. One day, as she was demonstrating several native American crafts
projects to the students, she suddenly stopped and said, "I've been
rushing all morning; I'm going to alay_aayh" (Fld 11/11/88).

Her decisions as to what to cover -- and how -- were also affected

by time considerations, as Mrs. E. pointed out one day while showing a

75
filmstrip on the history of the electoral process. Towards the end, she
whipped through part of the filmstrip, without showing it. She
explained to the students, "I don't want to push you, but we have
something to do, yet.” As we watched the filmstrip skip by in a blur,
Mrs. E. seemed to have put her instruction in "fast motion" -- one way
to react to the problem of time.

After the filmstrip, she held a mock election, instructing each
student to vote for a candidate so they compare their responses with the
national election results. Mrs. E. reminisced, as they tallied, "it can
be fan, to do a long unit. But we didn't have time” (Fld 11/8/88).

When the class discussed the electoral process, Mrs. E. told her
students, "We need to study this, this year, so I'm putting it in a
capsule for you" (Fld 11/9/88). The use of the word "capsule" referred
in this case to something like a space capsule, a concentrated form
which takes up little space. The metaphor, applied to the curriculum,
reflected her concerns about amount. Her focus in this case was to
toncentrate the presentation of social studies material, abridging the
students' interactional process.

That the pressure was especially related to the extended group
learning unit became clear, with the change in the way that Mrs. E.
talked about time when the native American unit was over. Mrs. E.
commented several times that she was not going to be ”driven by time"
anymore. She referred to this as the "rat race of time" (Int 11/29/88).
"I'll get there, when I get there” became a phrase that Mrs. E. used, to
describe her new perspective (Int ll/l9/88; Int 12/1/88). With the
Indian unit completed, she no longer expressed the same worries about

time. Mrs. E. explained, ”I think I'm okay, now, with the time."

76

The press of time affected Mrs. E.'s decisions to abridge certain
aspects of the social studies curriculum -- aspects which she felt were
meaningful and also "fun."

This particular cooperative group unit took seven weeks to
accomplish and technically dealt with only one chapter of the social
studies book. With the new mandate, Mrs. E. had to figure out how to
"cover" the rest of the material, having already obligated herself to
spend several weeks extending and enriching the one chapter on native
Americans.

Mrs. E. did not want to short-change the students on the magnitude
of the unit (Int 10/21/88). Already, a handful of days after the
meeting, Mrs. E. was trying to figure out hay she could do both -- cover
all that extra material, and still have something which the students
would feel was special.

A few days after the meeting, Mrs. E. talked with the students
about the situation:

After attending a meeting last week about the social
studies and science curriculum, I found we have more
things to do, than before. The district aaaa have
certain requirements, and I will meet those requirements,
in addition to you having something to show.

(Fld 10/25/88)

One way to encapsulate this unit was to borrow Indian units in the
form of displays, from the Indian center and the local museums and
historical society. We also talked about objects I could bring in.
Bringing in other sources of materials would help reconcile the desire

to produce the "ideal" unit and the realities Mrs. E. faced in having to

finish in less time and "move on” to other material. "It will look like

77
there was a lot done, and the kids won't notice they alt less," she
concluded (Int 10/21/88).

A week after the national elections, Mrs. E. announced that time
had run out and they would have to finish the Indian unit that week: "I
have given all the class time I tag, on this project. l must move on,"
she told the students (Fld 11/11/88). It seemed to Mrs. E. that she
could not give the students the time it would take to complete their
projects. For example, two of the four murals remained unfinished at
this point.

The concern about lack of adequate time to do what she wanted --
and needed -- to do also affected the instructions Mrs. E. gave to her
students. Although it was not unusual for students to have homework, it
yaa unusual for Mrs. E. to assign homework on the spur-of—the moment.
Mrs. E. usually had prepared a packet that went home at the beginning of
the week, pre-announcing all assignments for that week. But toward the
end of the Indian unit, she was giving an assignment that needed to be
finished immediately and returned the next day. Mrs. E. had told
students that they would not have a homework assignment that night; yet,
when she thought about all the things she needed to cover, she changed
her mind.

I heard her ”thinking out loud" to herself, in the back
of the room, "We haven't done much this week. I said
there's no homework tonight, but I'm going to have to
renege on that."

She announced to the students: "Boys and girls, I'm gonna
have to take back what I said about no homework. We
haven't gotten much done this week."

(Fld 11/17/88)

When Mrs. E. began a new chapter in the social studies text, she

introduced it within the context of limited time to spend on the topic:

78
"We are very quickly going to move in through the explorer section and
aova QB" (Fld 11/14/89).

They read the chapter aloud, had a short discussion about it, and
"moved on." Mrs. E. seemed to carry a constantly pressing concern about
this new requirement and how she was going to meet it. It just kept
"popping up" in her conversations -- both with the students and with me.
She mentioned it, in the car, returning from a luncheon interview with
me:

We're only on page fifty-something -- I notice that. We
didn't do everything, last year...and I didn't really
feel bad about it...we'd done other things, instead.
(Fld 11/17/88)

Her decisions about curriculum focused on balancing the entire
structure. Even after the Indian unit -- and, as she had much later
indicated to me, all through the academic year -- Mrs. E. had to deal
with the problem of coverage in limited time. A year later when I saw
Mrs. E., it was clear how much the administrative regulation had
affected her. "They never let up,” she complained, "the administration
piled on too much in the curriculum" (PC 9/16/89).

For example, Mrs. E. adjusted the schedule one day, because they
had PE aha music (both involving specialist time). She decided, in
order to ”get in" reading, she would move it to the afternoon, skipping
science (Int 11/29/88).

By November 14, Mrs. E. announced she was cancelling further work
on the unit; time had run out. After discussing individual
responsibilities, she talked about the group work and the project as a

whole:

79
I am sorry the project did not work out the way I wanted
it to. Maybe later on this year, we will try it again.
The people, who got the murals done, I compliment
you...those groups really came together, you worked
together. Other groups had a lot of in-fighting, a lot
of making fun of each other, a lot of trying to tell
*people what to do, instead of doing their own share.
You see—~that's what happens in countries: countries
that, even though they don't get along, they come
together...see, that's what we're talking about: groups.
It's learning how to work together, even though you don't
agtaa, it's learning how to work together.
(Fld 11/14/88)

At this point, Mrs. E. saw fighting as directly related to not
finishing work; and she added a new interpretation which did not focus
on working out problems jointly. ”Compromise in broken relations” now
had a different twist: the emphasis was on working together, but not
necessarily agreeing. This represented a new kind of thinking about
cooperation on Mrs. E.'s part, a kind that was compatible with covering
more material in less time. An adjustment of her original ideals, it
represented her reconciliation of the ideals with the realities of her
teaching context at that point. She felt she had to terminate the unit,
even if some of the projects remained incomplete.

The extra responsibility for Mrs. E. to cover all of the text made
her feel "cluttered" with the "mind boggling" task of academic subject
matter to contend with. In addition, she began to feel apatially
cluttered. One day, I arrived, to find Mrs. E. moving furniture out of
her classroom. She had removed two desks and a large, square table out
into the hall, when she spotted me approaching and commented, "It's too

cluttered -- I'm cluttered enough, without too much furniture" (Fld

11/11/88).

80

I was surprised because, earlier, Mrs. E. had told me that she was
going to "guard" all of the furniture in her room, to "save” for the
teacher who would replace her upon retirement. She explained that it
had taken yaata to gather what she presently had in the classroom, and
once it was out it would never be seen again!

The pressure Mrs. E. felt from the district-wide mandate had
changed her thinking. Adapting what she would otherwise have done, she
reacted to the feeling of being "cluttered" -- note that she said "llm
cluttered," rather than "the gag; is cluttered.” In order to accomplish
both her goals and those of her superiors in the bureaucracy, the
"frills“ had to go -- not only curricular ones, but also extra
furniture. The press of time created by the imposition of content was
forcing her to a more traditional mode of operating in the classroom,
even with spatial arrangements.

The concern about space and time, encapsulated in the term clutter,
affected Mrs. E's views of conflict. Although Mrs. E. firmly believed
that students should learn to work through conflict as a part of
learning to interact during group work, she amended her rules about two
weeks after the mandate. She was very explicit that the new rules were
designed so they wouldn't "waste time" (Fld 11/1/88, 11/3/88, 11/11/88).

She described time "wasted" as "standing around, arguing" (Fld
10/25/88). The term was an interesting paradox, with atgalhg, a very
active, involved position contrasted with a passive one of standing
ataaag. Mrs. E. meant that ”standing around" was not wothlng; students
were not working because they were "bickering.” This reasoning preceded

a radical departure in Mrs. E.'s treatment of conflict. Mrs. E.

81
subsequently told the students that “If bickering occurs, that person
will be removed from the group and have to work alone" (Fld 11/1/88).

In spite of this first-time negative sanction against conflict, now
termed "bickering," Mrs. E. still made benign comments about conflict in
her evaluation of their group work that morning:

I was not unhappy with the groups this morning, although
there was a lot of arguing and fighting about who would
do what project. I thought I had it settled ahead of
time...but they did solve it.

(Fld 11/1/88)

A contradiction was developing within Mrs. E.'s schema of what was
okay and what was not, in the process of students' working together.
Although she still said it was "okay" to work through conflict, how that
fit with the rule against bickering was not clear. As the unit
progressed, she discouraged conflict in another way, by validating as
cooperative actions such as "dropping out," which would avoid conflict.

These new sanctions represented a shift from the original holistic
system into expanded conceptions of what constituted cooperation.

Mrs. E. never gave up her original philosophical, social, and
pedagogical notions of cooperation. Yet, as she felt more and more
pressed to meet the demands of covering more material and still
completing the CGL Indian unit, Mrs. E began to deve10p some
contradictions in her treatment of cooperation, adjusting the way she
talked about the interactive aspects of cooperation.

Soon after the district meeting, Mrs. E. assigned a project in
which students were to create tracings of the 28 states with native
American names. Each would include a "translation" of the word and be

hung in the room to share with visitors at the end of the unit. The

project took two days; on the second, Mrs. E. provided information on

82
additional projects students would begin after finishing the states. It
took 18 minutes to give all the complicated directions "so we get this
done." This was the day Mrs. E. had told students they had ”more things
to do than before." As students worked, Mrs. E. circulated, busily
advising students on the various projects.

Twenty minutes after students had gone to work, Mrs. E. came by me
and commented, ”I just noticed something. They're not working in groups
today." Mrs. E. had been so busy, coordinating activities, finishing
one and beginning another, that she had not even noticed that students
were not working in their groups. Her focus at this point was on the
students getting the work done. Even after she realized that the groups
were not operative, she did not mention it to the students; what she did
mention was her appreciation of their cooperation with her: "I'm gonna
congratulate a couple of people who did exactly what I asked them to do:
Sivan, Michael, Gilberto" (Fld 10/25/88).

Mrs. E. had began to talk about students' projects in a different
way, i.e., completion of the task rather than the interactive process.
Unlike her response about quality rather than quantity to the "Narnia"
groups, Mrs. E. later alluded to cooperation as getting the work agha.
She told the students:

I don't have the slightest agapatatlah. Last year, every
person could tell something about what we're doing.
Everybody. Everybody in that class could do that. In

this class, five out of you have got the work done.
(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

 

I have highlighted the two phrases, to show that they were used
interchangeably. In this case, cooperation was with the adult, rather
than focused on peer interaction. It meant getting the work done.

Students didn't get the work done; therefore, they did not cooperate,

83
regardless of what they had accomplished in the groups.

This gradual change in emphasis to finishing the product might have
occurred naturally in the evolution of the group unit, which eventually
was expected to end with a product. According to Stanford's (1970)
model of phases, it would be appropriate to expect productivity of a
group in a later stage. A shift from stressing quality alone to
stressing product might not necessarily be a contradiction.

However, related to this change was another: Mrs. E., in response
to expanding concerns, also changed her interpretation of process, no
longer always depicting deciding and working together as the most
appropriate interactions. In the process of adjusting her own goals
with the district's goals, Mrs. E. also reconciled the original ideal of
working togethet with more pragmatic actions of temporary withdrawal or
compliance. The original goals and means became, at times, submerged
under the heavily expanded concerns and burdens placed upon Mrs. E.'s
teaching situation. She began to sanction various forms of
hag-pattlalaatlah, focusing on finishing the project. It was not,
therefore, the emphasis on product 22£_§2 which was unusual for Mrs.
E.'s thinking; rather, it was validating students short-cutting of the
prgcasa by withdrawing or giving in to get the product finished.

I will preface the discussion of Mrs. E.'s incipient pragmatism
with comments about teaching in general. It is not unusual for
pragmatic thinking to occur in teacher decisions. The fact that an
elementary teacher is always responsible for ”covering" a certain amount
of material would necessitate that some decisions focus on getting the

job done within a certain time frame.

84

The dilemmas of teaching, and the press of classroom life have been
well-documented (see, for example, Jackson, 1968; Lortie, 1975; Lampert,
1985). Mrs. E. described it as "the many pulls you have in day-to-day
teaching” (Tr Int 11/17/88). Historian David Cohen (1988) claims that
teaching has for centuries been so fraught with its own dilemmas,
contradictions, and pressures that the context itself mitigates against
teaching in any way other than a traditional manner.

However true that may be as a generalization, somehow Mrs. E. has
been teaching selected parts of the curriculum in an "untraditional
manner" for many years. And however "logical” and "necessary" it may be
for a teacher to be pragmatic in evaluating students' work, this was not
Mrs. E.'s way of thinking or talking about cooperation at the hagihhing
of the Indian unit, before the district informed her of increased
requirements in social studies text coverage.

After Mrs. E.'s rule on November 1 negatively sanctioning bickering
and threatening removal from the group, students began to voluntarily
leave their groups. Mrs. E. informed me that Ricardo had left his group
one day, because he could not ”get along." Another time, Mrs. E.
herself decided that a member could leave the group. She inquired if
the group haaaag Courtney, and from the response of other group members,
established that they could proceed without her.

Group three was working near the back sink area on their
mural for the Indian unit. Courtney approached Mrs. E.
and told her, "I'm hgt_aaanatatlng...They keep getting
mad at me." Mrs. E. walked over to the sink area, where
the other members of Group Three were working on the
mural. She asked, "Do you need her right now?"

Mun responded, "We don't need her right now." Courtney
left the group area and worked on something else.
(Fld 11/3/88)

85

I asked Courtney later what she meant by "I'm not cooperating."

The story which follows is Courtney's description and interpretation of
what she, her peers, and Mrs. E. said at that particular event:

I went over to Mrs. E. and I said, 'I don't really have

anything to do, so, because I don't: I don't want to

fight with them any more...and so, I said I don't have

any more to do, so can I go over and do some of my own

work, like finish my Hopi [kachina drawing]?' and she

said, "Yeah, go ahead.”

(Int 11/29/88)

Another member of her group viewed this exit as hat cooperating and
told Courtney she would be penalized: ”You're not gonna get your 25
points for cooperating." Courtney responded, "I'm not cooperating, but
Mrs. E. said I don't have to do group.” She went back to Mrs. E. and asked,

"Does that mean that, Mrs. E., I'm not cooperating? Am I
not cooperating because I'm not doing anything? Like,
they're angry at me, and they said I won't get my 25
points."

Mrs. E. responded (according to Courtney), "You will,
because you ata cooperating. Sometimes when you
cooperate, you're outside of the group."

(Tr Int 11/7/88)

Courtney's interpretation of what Mrs. E. told her concluded that
she, as a group member, was allowed to leave the group and finish
another project separate from the group project, for which she still got
credit for "cooperating" with the group and contributing to completion
of the group mural. There was no group agreement on this action, and
the whole group was not working together; yet, from Mrs. E.'s validation
of her leaving and willingness to still grant her the points for
participating and cooperating, Courtney assumed that this yaa
cooperating. It was cooperation because her withdrawal meant they would

no longer fight. In other words, it was cooperating with the teacher.

The group could work more efficiently without ”bickering" with Courtney.

86

An important facet of the amendment of Mrs. E.'s thinking about
cooperation was that, although the pragmatic concerns initially applied
to specific individuals in particular contexts, gradually, the rationale
was incorporated into the global context, which itself had originally
represented the more ideal, philosophical perspective. She told the
class,

In this world today, if people don't start thinking

together...with all the waste, and factories...we're

gonna have a yatlg_thatla_laat. We need to learn to work
together, to solve those problems -- you don't have to

agtaa, but work together.
(Fld 12/15/88)

The possibility of working through differences was no longer
mentioned. Although after the Indian unit, Mrs. E. said that she no
longer felt so pressured by time, she continued to use the expanded,
more pragmatic interpretations of what constituted cooperation. The
larger context of curricular demands continued to influence her thinking
about the way learning should take place.

Her statement about working together, but not necessarily agreeing,
was made in December, at a time when she was discussing the stories
students had written about conflict, resolution, and cooperation. Mrs.
E. had been absent during the last two days of the storywriting unit,
which I had conducted as surrogate teacher. The class discussion was a
sharing of the stories by the students. This was Mrs. E.'s first
exposure to these stories; as she read them, she discussed the students'
interpretations of what cooperation was, as depicted in the stories.

She also inquired about the interactive process of the groups as they

worked on these projects.1

87

Mrs. E. listened to the martian story, which portrayed two
characters fighting over the same piece of property. Mrs. E. asked the
group that wrote it if the characters had solved it "together," or if
someone had ”given up." Joshua and Ricardo answered in unison: "Gave
up." She then inquired, “Is that the way we solve problems, sometimes?"
to which several students responded, ”Yeah” (Fld 12/15/88).

The story had portrayed cooperation as capitulation, a very
different type of process than working through and making decisions
together. Mrs. E. was aware of the differences, explicitly stating them
as a contrast: giving up or solving together. Yet, she did not question
the students' interpretation further, to see why they saw giving up as a
way to cooperate and solve problems. Her leaving the "Yeah” stand with
no further questioning indicated an implicit validation of the students'
portrayal of giving up as a way to resolve problems.

In that same group discussion, a peer from Group Two complained
that Joshua had not participated in the decisions, saying repeatedly "I
don't care." Mrs. E. discussed with Joshua how he had felt at the time,
and concluded:

”You may have made a good choice -- withdrawing, for a
while. The choice you made is: If I continue to argue,
we won't get anything done."

Joshua responded: "Yes."

(Fld 12/15/88)

Mrs. E. was, at this point, talking differently about conflict than
she had at the beginning of teaching cooperation. Although she had
threatened with the November 1 rule to remove students for bickering,
she had not done so. Now, she rationalized with the students that this

would be helpful to them; it was "not a punishment, just giving you

88
choices." She elaborated the rule, now deciding that if conflict
continued she would remove the individual ”with the problem” not only
from the group, but from the room:
You will continue to have conflicts. I may ask you to
take a walk around the hall. Not for punishment; if it's
a matter of rethinking of how you can work better with
the group -- not me, but you -- and hopefully, you'll
have resolved some of the feelings you have...Get out of
the situation for a while -- it's much better. Has a
tendency to defuae the situation. Sometimes, you need to
get away from people.
(Fld 12/15/88)

Getting away from people is a different approach to the resolution
of conflict than working through problems and making group decisions.
Mrs. E.'s situation illustrates the tensions of teaching -- the
balancing of multiple goals and having to select an action appropriate
to a particular context (see Lampert, 1982). She wanted students to
learn together, have fun, learn more, and make decisions together. But
she was balancing this with helping individuals who were not "getting
along" in a group, while also working within a time constraint.
Sometimes, she needed to do something about kids' unresolved conflict
and proceed toward completion of the project.

To encourage a student to leave the group and take "time out" to
"cool off" is a common classroom practice based on the idea that the
individual can better find a resolution by separating from the group.
The dilemma in Mrs. E.'s case was that she wanted to help students to
achieve more self-understanding by having them ha with others, working
in a group. Her goal of student intrapersonal development was based on
self-learning as part of a social, communal enterprise.

To encourage withdrawal, then, represented a different perspective

from Mrs. E.'s original goal of dealing with personal growth via the

89
social context of cooperative activity, i.e., having the individual
resolve conflict yithlh the group, 21th the other peers. It was a
psychological rather than a social solution. It put the responsibility
on one person to change, rather than expecting the group to accommodate
and adjust so that each person's contribution was represented.

Mrs. E. was aware of the dilemma of reconciling "individuality" and
acting as a group member: "when you're working with a group, you have to
take your individuality and act as a member of the group" (Fld
12/15/88). This statement seemed to parallel her own circumstance, in
trying to design an individual, unique curriculum within a larger
context of being a member of a school district with its own required
body of curriculum. She had selected a solution of withdrawal as
appropriate for students' learning to resolve problems. Did this in
some way parallel her interpretation of what she felt she had to do, to

cope with her own tensions and dilemmas as a teacher?

MRS. E.'S CHANGING INTERPRETATIONS OF POWER, RIGHTS, AND OBLIGATIONS

The changed requirements for Mrs. E.'s social studies teaching also
provided a context for comparison of teacher responses to issues of
power before and after the mandate. Issues of roles, rights, and
obligations -- both hers and the students' -- emerged, and the
multi-dimensionality of the power structure became more explicit with
the new emphasis.

Interpreting the students' duties was not only a problem for them;

it was also a problem for Mrs. E., who in addition had to reexamine her

90
own rights and duties, as her context shifted due to various factors
which included the district changes.

Initially, Mrs. E. saw utilizing CGL more as giving up control as a
teacher. After the increase in district requirements and the stress she
experienced trying to fit in both the district demands and her own goals
with CGL, she began to remind students of their duties to her. She was
emphasizing the traditional portion of the actualized power structure
(i.e., the vertical portion of Figure 1, diagram C) rather than the
egalitarian part of the power structure and students' duties to each
other (the horizontal portion of Figure 1, diagram C).

Mrs. E. first described her role in teaching CGL in terms of
sacrifice. She told me in September that the "hardest thing" was "not
being in charge” (Fld 9/29/88). By altering the term "cooperative
learning" to "cooperative teaching" or "cooperative education," Mrs. E.
placed the focus on ha; role, as teacher, which she portrayed as giving
up ”control." This perspective is the one expressed in Figure 1,
diagram B. In the beginning, then, Mrs. E. described CGL as an
idealized power structure.

One of the major differences between a traditional notion of
teacher power and Mrs. E.'s conception of her own role in general was
the obligations of the teacher to the students. Note in Figure 2 that
the traditional focus is on students' obligations to the teacher, not
vice versa. However, Mrs. E. had her own version of teacher obligations
to students; she taught to plaaaa them. This was not a taaalt of using
CGL and changing the power structure; actually, it was the teason that
she utilized CGL. Her role in offering CGL was providing an alternative

to ”boring" and "tedious" traditional learning (Tr Int 11/17/88).

91
Rejecting the conflict model which has been built into the hierarchical
mode of traditional teaching, she organized her teaching "to plaaaa
alga...because I want them to be comfortable in that tlassrgog every
day...so they realize...we're not adversaries” (Tr Int 2/24/89).

She saw a huge difference in "pleasure" between traditional and CGL
learning, and highlighted the differences to Robbie and the Narnia group
one day, when Robbie expressed dissatisfaction about the group
experience:

"You know what I'd like? It'd make me taally happy to
have everybody sit quietly all day and just work, with ha
talking. That's what ;;a like.”

Ricardo responded, with a smile, ”Yeah, but if we didn't
ever talk, you would never haa; from us, and maybe you
wouldn't like it. Mrs. E. smiled back. "Maybe I
wouldn't."

(Fld 10/4/88)

Note that the three elements which she uses to contrast with group
work are the three listed in Figure 3. She was describing the
traditional one-sided power structure in classrooms, in which the
teacher can move about and talk as she pleases, but students must be
passive: ”sit quietly,” ”just work," and don't 1k.

In November, when she informed the students that they had run out
of time for the Indian unit, she also told me she was going to do
"tradltiohal work for a while...they heed to see the contrast" (Int
11/14/88). I have highlighted certain words, to emphasize that even
toward the end of the Indian unit, Mrs. E. still assumed the contrast
between traditional work structures and CGL.

However, she had gradually been placing greater emphasis on one

element of the traditional structure: student duties to her, so that she

could control the outcome and amount of time to get the work done.

92

At the end of the Indian unit, Mrs. E. described in an interview an
amended perspective of cooperative teaching/learning. No longer did she
see her obligation simply as giving up control. This second version
acknowledged a duality in the situation:

There's friendship level; there's also the teacher level,
and I have the responsibility to get something done.
(Tr Int 11/17/88)

Mrs. E. referred to the two different dimensions as "levels,"
hinting of the structural aspects of power which entered into her
considerations. The "friendship level" represented her own personal
goals of teaching, which offered a more egalitarian structure to both
peer interactions and teacher/student interactions (see Figure 1,
diagram B, the Ideal Structure). The "teacher level," in contrast,
referred to the responsibilities she had as a teacher, to meet various
demands determined by others, such as administrators, parents, and state
and federal guidelines; they represented a hierarchical structure, in
which there were various levels of power.

Her description reflected many more components than simply her and
the students. In this, she also had responsibilities to others and thus
was subordinate in one respect, while having power over students who
were, in turn, subordinate to her. This latter portion of the structure
is seen in Figure l, diagram A, the Traditional Structure.

The trick was balancing these two levels, which were very different
in philosophy and goals and in structure of power. Mrs. E. had to
balance what she gahtag to do and achieve, and give to kids, with what
she was responsible for achieving, or "covering" with them. She

elaborated,

93
One of the negatives about cooperative teaching and the
idea of building strong respect between the students: it
can go too far the other way and then you do find that
you've gotta' bring 'em back...you have to establish
limits.
(Tr Int 11/17/88)

Relinquishing power was not easy. Sometimes, Mrs. E. had to "call
them back," re-establish the limits, i.e., rules, duties, and
responsibilities of students to her. Sometimes, she redefined their
duties, as on November 1, when she added "no bickering" to the classroom
rules, as she wrestled with getting hat responsibilities accomplished
for the people who expected her to have something to "show."

"Calling students back” involved "calling in" their obligations to
her. This represented a switch of emphasis from student obligations to
each other to listen and decide together, to obligations to hat, to do
their work. When Mrs. E. temporarily amended the culmination activity
of the native American project, so that there would still be displays
but no parent visitations, she explained that the reason was they had
not tooperated. She told the class:

OK -- now on Friday, we are supposed to have parents in
-- many of you were in the third grade when we did
that...we're not going to do that this year, because I
don't have the slightest cooperation...I've excused three
people, and [only] five out of the rest of you have got
the work done.

(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

In this case, cooperation referred not to a focus on student
interactions with each other, but getting the work done. The incomplete
work related both to group projects as well as individual research
written reports which would have been incorporated into the various

groups' oral presentations. The students had not learned what they

needed to know, in order to bring in parents, many of whom would be

94
knowledgeable about the subject themselves, as Mrs. E. pointed out to

the class:

That does not make me tantattahla, having people come
into the room and say, 'Ok, these children will explain
to you about the Northwest Indians...I'd feel very
uncomfortable, because they're going to ask questions --
and believe me, they do ask questions...Many of these
people who are coming...are very knowledgeable about the
American Indians, and about a lat of things.

(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

The students had not fulfilled their obligations to her, and
therefore, Mrs. E. was cancelling the previous plans, which she had felt
were her obligation to than, to maintain a tradition they had looked
forward to:

This is lt, as far as I'm concerned...l am not sorry I'm
canceling it...I have to let you know what I expect, in
order to move you on.

(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

The kind of cooperating Mrs. E. was talking about included previous
norms of "coming together" and sharing, but her "bottom line” this time
was finishing the work. She disclosed to me later that day, while the

students worked independently, that,

they enjoy working together, but they need to finish what
they start -- there's two things they don't understand:
912m: and finishing a ma.

(Int 11/14/88)

The focus of this talk which Mrs. E. had with the class was a new
one, emphasizing their obligations to hat. Although she explicitly told
them that "...this is an "1" statement -- I'm not bawling anybody
out...," the message may have been more influential than she thought.

It certainly impressed Mun, who commented to Sivan as they returned with
chagrined faces to their seats, "That was a long lecture" (Fld

11/14/88).

95

The question which emerged in Mrs. E.'s dilemma of trying to
"balance" all of the goals and trade-offs, was: when should the teacher
emphasize the symmetrical relations, and when the hierarchical
obligations?

Mrs. E. had foreseen that her unit was going to become abridged,
after she learned of the expanded social studies requirements. She
explained to me shortly after the district meeting that one way she
would deal with avoiding a disappointing experience for them was that
she would do more fat the students, in the place of what they would
ordinarily have done, to make up for lost class time (Int 10/21/88).

Three weeks later when she announced cancellation of the final
presentations, Mrs. E. indicated she had thought a great deal before
making the decision. Foremost in her thoughts was the issue of rights
and responsibilities: whose responsibility had not been fulfilled --
hers? or the students'? Mrs. E. had delineated her responsibilities,
telling the students:

My responsibility is to make sure the assignments are
clear, and to provide resources and materials for

you...I went to the trouble of running off packets so you
could know exactly what to do...I think, if you look at
the back of the room, I had about 50 books back
there...and nobody even looked at them.

(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

She had expressed concern weeks before that the students would miss
out on some things they had traditionally done in the native American
unit. Now, she had decided, part of the problem of incompleteness was
not due to lack of time, but lack of student commitment to go their
hatt. Still, she had considered "making up" for their incomplete

project. Mrs. E. had reflected and agonized over exactly what her

obligations were to her students; she told them,

96
I made a conscious decision over the weekend that I was
not going to -- I even took the overhead projector and
thought, 'Oh, I think I'll kind of make up for it...by
tracing all of these pictures and having each group do
that and then have it...again going and running some
materials off and having each one of you take it home and
(voice lowers).' I'm not going to do that. I'm not
going to do that.
(Tr Fld 11/14/88)

This was a radical decision for Mrs. E., who taught most of all to
"please" the kids. In light of the many extra responsibilities she
faced, at this point, she concluded that it was hat her responsibility
to cover up what they did not do and do extra work herself to make the
unit "look good" and the students happy.

It is indicative of Mrs. E.'s position as a reflective,
non-traditional teacher that she subsequently reversed this decision,
responding to the impassioned requests of students that she allow them
another couple of days to finish the unit. Because of her flexibility
and positive response to the students' rallying with enthusiasm to
finish the work, the unit culminated with great success and positive
student self-concepts about the cooperative group process and
themselves.

Still, Mrs. E. concluded later that the students did finally finish
precisely because she had called in the obligations to her. I asked her
how she had managed to ”save" the unit; I wondered what had happened
after my visit on the fourteenth of November to convince her to
reinstate the unit. "How did they finally come around, with the
projects?," I inquired. "They snapped to, because I raised my voice,"
Mrs. E. replied. "They were reacting, to pleasa...it takes either a

carrot or a threat. They love the praise, but it just doesn't carry

over" (Int 11/29/88).

97
In the final interview with Mrs. E., I found her still struggling
with the desire to liberate and the need to control for optimum learning
and progress. We were talking about the progress of various students,
and she mentioned that Josh had "come around a lot." "He's very willing
to cooperate with me. Really he's an ideal kid," she concluded (Tr Int
2/24/89). Cooperating with ha; was the criteria she used at that point,

rather than how Josh had learned to cooperate and work with aeers.

UNCERTAINTY

A latent effect of the extensions of meaning was the development of
uncertainty in her own thinking about cooperation, as Mrs. E.
acknowledged confusion at one point, in trying to describe what la
cooperation. In the February interview I had with Mrs. E., she was as
clear as always about her gaala of what she wanted to accomplish with
children. However, she voiced her conception of cooperation at that
point with ancertaihty:

When we had the elections, I talked a lot about both :
candidates and their attacks on each other and how
divisive that was, and they seem to understand the
feeling toward accomplishing something...at least they're
willing to llsteh to the other person -- but that's not
so much cooperation, I guess that's learning to coexist
(voice lowers). But maybe co-existence is also
cooperation. I don't know. It is possible.

(Tr Int 2/24/89)

Up to this point, Mrs. E. had developed many different
interpretations of what it is to cooperate, from listening to people,
understanding and accepting others, making joint decisions, working

through conflict and moving on, to dropping out, or withdrawing from

group interactive process. Although some of these ideas were in

98
conflict with others, i.e., making joint decisions is different from
dropping out or withdrawing, Mrs. E. expanded a definition to accomodate
her ideals with the reality of time crunches and a larger amount of
material to "cover.”

Her comment in this interview indicated to me that she had been
processing these different ideas and at this point was acknowledging her
uncertainty about the limits of what defined the concept of cooperation.
It was by virtue of Mrs. E.'s reflective practice, and the fact that she
continuously assessed and questioned her own definitions, methods, and
other assumptions that she was at that point caught in the complexity of
her context, left facing uncertainty. What made her a good teacher also

made her situation more difficult and ambiguous.
CONCLUSION

This chapter relates how one fifth grade teacher adjusted her
thoughts about cooperation as she worked to maintain her ideals within
the changing reality and dilemmas of her teaching situation. Mrs. E., a
teacher with strong ideals, was knowledgeable and well-informed about
current research and reflective about her own practice, experienced, and
disposed to being non-traditional in her approach.

During a three month period of initiating the learning of
cooperation in her classroom, she maintained her original goals of
teaching for a humanistic kind of excellence in the academic and
affective realms. However, she adapted her notion of what constituted
cooperation as a response to a district-level change which occurred

several weeks after school began.

99

When the district announced a new mandate to cover all of the
social studies text, Mrs. E. responded with various adjustments,
centered around her concern about time constraints. She talked more
specifically with students about time and the "mind boggling" tasks she
was to achieve with them.

Her ideas about allowing time for students to work through conflict
while working together in groups changed; she described various
amendments to the social studies curriculum which would have been "fun,"
had there been time; she made changes in furniture arrangements,
perceiving clutter spatially as well as temporally.

In addition, Mrs. E. adapted her interpretation of what students
would do in order to achieve cooperation. She originally equated
cooperation with working together. Mrs. E. perceived global
implications in teaching students to learn to get along and solve
problems together. She utilized cooperative group learning, assuming
that the social interactions contributed to students developing more
acknowledgement, understanding, and acceptance of each other.

After the district-mandated change, Mrs. E. began to talk more
about completing work and "moving on." She expanded her definition of
cooperation to include student withdrawal or giving in as cooperative
because such actions facilitated getting the work done more efficiently
within the constrained time frame.

Goals like students accepting each other's ideas and working
together on a project were sometimes submerged under the growing concern
about getting gang which related to "the rat race of time." She was
unwilling to give up her own goals, based on ideals; thus she faced the

dilemma of having to meet multiple and conflicting goals -- her own

100
focusing on quality and the district's focusing on quantity. Perhaps
they would not have conflicted, had there not been a time constraint.

But a confluence of factors mitigated against a facile resolution
of the quantity-quality issues revolving around the social studies
curriculum and Mrs. E.'s organization of social studies learning.
Several weeks of the school year had passed before the new requirements
were introduced; there was less time to work with students as more time
had been alloted to specialists in art and music; and Mrs. E. was
already in the middle of an expansion of one chapter which took more
time because it utilized cooperative group learning and focused on group
research, as well as hands-on projects.

As a result of these various factors, time became an even more
pressing factor than previous years. The adjustments in Mrs. E.'s
interpretation of what constituted cooperation were a response to her
accommodation of the multiple goals. Her attempt to make sense of the
"mind boggling" situation ended in uncertainty -- a tonceatual kind of
uncertainty, in which she was no longer certain what cooperation yaa.

That uncertainty is a feature of teaching has been discussed by
Jackson (1986); this study adds a case in which the constraints of the
teaching context contributed to the development of dissonance in one
very experienced and knowledgeable teacher. Four months after the
mandate, she indicated uncertainty as she described to me an example she
had utilized in her teaching to show students what cooperation was all
about. She was at that point questioning her original assumption,
thinking of terms of what might constitute cooperation. Where months
before, she had been very confident and clear of her conception, she now

was left with uncertainty.

101

The unexpected twist of Mrs. E.'s interpretations about cooperation
was inadvertently similar to the students' preconceptions of
cooperation, which assumed a power hierarchy rather than egalitarian,
reciprocal relationships. Mrs. E.'s reminder to the students of their
obligation to ha; to complete work was rare; yet, many elements combined
to make this a major emphasis in the minds of the atudents. Her later
sanctions on student withdrawal from interactions had other implications
regarding closing these "spaces” to each other, which, through dialogue,

could have nurtured the development of new friendships.

102
NOTE

1 I have discussed in Chapter 2 the problematic nature of utilizing
Mrs. E.'s statements about these stories as evidence of her own
thinking about cooperation. If there were not corroborative evidence
from other sources, incidents involving student interactions in CGL
contexts, I would not feel comfortable using this. However, there
were several times in the month previous to this discussion that Mrs.
E. had validated students' withdrawal from groups. Therefore, I
include her comments about the story characters and thait actions,
claiming they follow a similar line of reasoning. However, I still
acknowledge the possibility that contextually, because of my
influence, they were biased in a direction she had only tentatively

explored previously, as a fave; t9 mg.

Chapter 4

STUDENTS, COOPERATION, AND ACADEMICS

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCES WITH COOPERATION

Just as Mrs. E. entered the CGL context with prior assumptions, the
students also brought preconceptions of what constitutes cooperation and
appropriate ways to act within the rubric of "cooperating." According
to students' feedback, previous school experiences with working in
cooperative groups were rare, and their understandings about cooperation
came from other sources, including previous schooling in a traditional
mode, in which students equated cooperating with ”behaving," i.e., doing
what the teacher wanted. Referring to the home contexts, students
described cooperating as "getting along” with siblings. Students did
not refer to a particular quality of relationship or interaction between
children, such as increased understanding or appreciation; instead, they
were responding to adult mandates. In other words, they were
cooperating tor ah adult.

There were major departures in context between cooperating in the
home or a traditional school setting and cooperating with peers during
CGL. The previous experiences they cited were not initiated with the
intention of cooperating; the need to ”cooperate" derived from problems
which arose during arguments or fights, at which time the children were
requested to cooperate. To the students, cooperating meant to stop the
fighting.

In contrast, the CGL activities were set up with the intention of

cooperating to produce a tangible result related to learning. The

103

104
home/traditional schooling contexts of cooperation were forced, and
carried connotations about misbehavior or dissatisfying an adult. The
CGL contexts, in contrast, were presented as appottunltiea to work with
peers, to have fun, to share and increase ideas.

Although the previous conceptions of cooperation as compliance to
an adult's request were unrelated to CGL, students still carried them
into the contexts of group work. Midway through the study, Mrs. E. held
a class discussion and asked the students to write about what they
thought cooperation was, why it was important, and what working in
groups had to do with it. One of the key metaphors, "behaving," emerged
at this time as Sivan wrote explicitly, "to cooperate means to behave
with other people." More than half of the students equated cooperation
with not arguing, not fighting, getting along, and being "nice."

Students equated cooperation with doing something for an adult --
in the case of school, this meant doing work. hay they accomplished
this was by not fighting. Many students had brought the idea of
cooperation as not fighting or not arguing from home; several portrayed
cooperating at home as essentially stopping conflict situations. April
spoke of cooperating to avoid "fighting all the time" with her brother
and sister; Joshua cooperated with his mom when they were "not getting
along"; Emily and Mun reported being asked to cooperate by mothers when
they argued with siblings during gaming contexts like playing Nintendo
or chess (Tr Int ll/29/88). Squabbles over the sequence or number of
turns, or whose idea would be accepted, were the same kinds of issues
that students had to grapple with in learning to cooperate in small

groups in the classroom.

105

Many students associated cooperating with not arguing or not
fighting in order to get the work done; the focus was on meeting the
obligation to the teacher. Paris explained, "You need cooperation
because without it...you will fight and not get any thing done. You
will be to busy fighting” (SW 11/1/88).1 Inadvertently, this was
compatible with what Mrs. E. had presented, talking about CGL as working
together, working in groups, or group work. The word EQEK always
appeared in each of these expressions, and work was what was done for
the teacher. Although Mrs. E. saw CGL as surrendering authority and
giving students more freedom, with a focus on interacting with peers,
the students still saw it as doing something fia;_hat. That was the
single most compelling feature of group work. Asbeid and Emily focused
on the amount of work, as the important aspect of cooperating in groups,
to "get alot done”; while Megen pointed out the efficiency: ”things go a
lot faster" with cooperation (SW 11/1/88).

Written responses of half the students to Mrs. E.'s questions
midway through the program reflected this stance even though the school
and home contexts were different. Mun and Michael equated cooperating
directly with not fighting: "to cooperate is to not fight." Both kept
the "not fight" phrase intact, rather than saying "not to fight." Five
more students explicated the relationship, portraying cooperation as a
vehicle or method for not fighting. Paris said it would "help people
get along at they don't fight so much." Ariel assumed that ”without it
[cooperation] you will fight..."

There were glitches to this reasoning, with regard to participation
in CGL. The first problem was equating not arguing with ”behaving,”

with implications of how to cooperate that did not necessarily involve

106
working through the conflict together. Solutions included withdrawal of
requests or demands, giving in, changing, leaving.

The second problem was how students interpreted "not arguing” in
CGL contexts; because they assumed that it was necessary to avoid
arguing, they would not only withdraw themselves at times, but they also
sometimes selected to cut off peers from the interactions. All
interpretations were an attempt to avoid conflict, which is a necessary
process which students need to work through, if they are to function as
citizens in a democracy in the future (Oser, 1986; Resnick, 1987).

Cooperating in this sense was seen by the child as changing
behavior to please adulta. The relationship was a power hierarchy, with
the student acting with another child, but in relation to what the adult
wanted him or her to do. The actions taken under such circumstances did
not represent the "self" of the child, nor did they represent an
equitable solution for all parties. Instead, "resolution" by withdrawal
or giving in represented an expedient way for a person of lesser power
to fulfill the wishes and will of someone with greater power.

Mun's descriptions of playground activities conveyed this
relationship, as he described the student obligation when peers are not
cooperative. Instead of talking about working out the problem with a
peer, he emphasized the student's relationship with the adult in charge,
saying that students should not “tattle tale about those things" (Tr Int
12/15/88).

The act of not cooperating sometimes implied bad behavior; Sivan
used the word hag to denote the need for cooperation in sports contexts.
Sivan described cooperation as not "yelling” at fellow team mates who

had committed errors: "Don't yell...don't be bad to the team." In

107
saying not to be bad, Sivan was concentrating on his relationship with
the coach as power authority. It would be the adult who would say it
was bad to yell; if he had been thinking in terms of his relationship
with other team members, Sivan probably would have talked in terms of
what they would say: "don't be maan."

Mun was concerned about implications of being "bad" when I asked
him to elaborate on what his mom meant when she asked him to cooperate.
He responded, "Well, she wouldn't know, but it's something not that bad"
(Tr Int 11/29/88).

Mun had not directly answered my question; his response indicated a
desire to absolve himself from what I might have been imagining that he
had done. Instead of specifying what his mother said, as I had asked,
he instead concentrated on what ha had or had not done, to have

precipitated his mother's request.

ENHANCING COOPERATION AS COMPLIANCE: STUDENTS AS "TEACHER PLEASERS"

Students entered the CGL context with a notion of cooperation as
compliance and a focus on their relationship with the adult, even though
what they gag was with peers and siblings. Although Mrs. E. had talked
with students about her objectives of having group work to develop
greater awareness of peers, the altered context of social studies
teaching did influence her to talk occasionally about cooperating with
her. While this was not her focus, it did inadvertently play into
students' preconceived thinking about cooperation.

Probably a more powerful element, however, of how Mrs. E.

inadvertently contributed to the students' previous sensemaking of

108
cooperation as compliance was her personal relationship with students.
These students liked her and were, in her words, basically
”teacher-pleasers." She told me one day at lunch, "When I came back
[from being absent], they alapped...a teacher has a lpt_pt_ppyat. Some
teachers don't realize how much ppwa: they have with kids" (Int
11/1/88).

Students were truly concerned about Mrs. E. as a person. One day,
when she had misplaced a Natlphal_gaagtaphla which came from her home,
Mrs. E. told the students her husband would be upset if she didn't find
it. Someone made a comment, and Mrs. E. asked, "Are you worried about
my being in tropbla?" "Yeah," Mun responded (Fld 10/27/88).

Because they were all "good kids," as Mrs. E. said, and had
basically positive attitudes about learning and school, this situation
ironically lent itself even more to students' thinking in traditional
terms of power, because they did not dislike or resent the person ylth
the power. Mrs. E. recognized that this was a problem:

There is the problem of wanting to do well -- and please
the teacher. It really isn't even for their peers; it's
for me. It's nice for me, but sometimes, not best for

kids working together. They want to do a good job -- for
ma.

(Int 11/1/88)

The fifth graders were at this point well-versed in what "works" in
school, and accustomed to operating under an authority model. Because
they liked their teacher, on top of this they were less disposed to
question the power structure. Equating it with her as a personality,
they did not explore other possibilities.

Cusick (1983) pointed out how teachers at the secondary level

operated on the rationale of getting the kids to like the teacher so

109
they will not cause "problems" and will do what s/he wanted. In
response, the high school kids acquiesced with ”behaving" but also
bargained over the academics. Although there were major differences in
this context with those Cusick described -- the school was not a site
for conflict, and still students learned a great deal in this classroom
-- nonetheless they still bargained away some of the academic
expectations.

However, the CGL context was complicated. Students both expanded
and limited academic learning in various ways, within the group
situations. The following sections describe both aspects and explore
how, in spite of Mrs. E.'s efforts, students sometimes chose to utilize
CGL to downgrade learning. I show some more problematic ways in which
students and the teacher interpreted cooperation in various CGL
contexts. Some of the cases I cite involved myself as teacher and the
stories represent the individuals rather than characteristics of the
relationship of CGL as a classroom organization within the context of
schooling in the larger society. The complex factors lend themselves to
multiple and alternative interpretations about the potential
contribution of CGL to teaching and learning. The final section
explores some of the positive effects of having used CGL for academic
learning, in spite of the students' preconceptions and predispositions

to sabotage lessons or otherwise disengage.

COLLECTIVE BARGAINING/RESTRICTIONS OF ACADEMIC LEARNING

Earlier, I cited CGL as a method of classroom organization which

created a reservoir of extended resources for academic learning. While

110
this is true, not all CGL opportunities were productive or contributed
positively to advancing the academic teaching of the students. The CGL
occasions also provided opportunities for students to diminish the
academic expectations of the classroom. I found that students sometimes
utilized the context as a way to limit effort and confine learning by
making CGL a tool for collective bargaining. Provided with the ability
to talk about assignments, students sometimes capitalized on the
extended power gained to better play the game of school. They
understood the value of cooperating with others as banding together to
increase power, revealed in a discussion about why the five Iroquois
nations joined together. While Asbeid suggested that it was to make
peace between them, Robbie felt it ”would be easier to fight war with
more tribes and more people.” As he concluded that "they'd have better
[advantage]," before he could finish, Josh cut in with agreement, "Yeah
-- it would probably be what they'd do" (Fld 10/27/88).

This example paralleled what groups of students in the classroom
sometimes did, working together to increase their power, to make war
with work. They would collectively figure out what they would have to
do within the confines of a particular assignment. Everhart (1983)
described how kids bargained their ways out of assignments with
teachers; I found that the CGL context provided another opportunity for
students to manipulate the context to limit work. In this bargaining,
the teacher was not even always included, as students worked out how to
narrow the extent of their involvement.

The following vignette follows a CGL lesson in which each group was
directed to choose a number of projects out of a longer list of possible

choices the teacher provided. She had photocopied packets for each

111
cooperative group, with descriptions of various aspects of the lives of
the native Americans in that area. The students then read the
descriptions and the assignments associated with each topic, and talked
about what they would do together as a group. Observing Group One, I
found that the students achieved consensus, deciding together. They did
this, not by exploring mutual interests and preferences, but rather by
determining together what would require the least work of them -- i.e.,
tasks that were easiest, fastest, or least unattractive. In this case,
CGL provided a context ripe for subtle disengagement, since the teacher
was no longer 25;; of the bargaining process. Students could take the
time to go into great detail, trying to figure out ways to get out of
certain parts of a task. Thus, whatever they did accomplish later in
the project was limited by decisions made in the early stages: decisions
based on efforts to confine efforts and downgrade assignments.

In the process of selecting several projects they would do as a
group, the students in Group One read about various topics, including
shelter, food, religion, crafts, geographic location, and political
organization. A lengthy discussion ensued over two descriptions, each
of which had similar linguistic constructions which can be identified as
(verb) and (verb) or (verb). Previous to this segment of discourse,
Joshua had indicated that he objected to "reporting everything" and told
the group "I don't wanna' do one." Asbeid then conspired to try to find
a project which would allow the group to avoid the reporting part.

Asbeid suggested, "Uh, let's do 2, too." In response,

Robbie read aloud the description for this project.
Asbeid continued, "We draw...we only draw on that one."

112
Robbie cites the paper they are reading: ”'Report on the
ways of getting food and other...‘ You havo to do a
report on every single ooo of these.” Asbeid responded

with surprise, "You do?" Robbie retorted, in a mocking
tone, "Y:eee:es.'

Asbeid did not accept Robbie's insistence that they nod to do a
report. Instead, he persisted in the attempt to find a loophole in the

assignment description.

Asbeid read: ”'Report on the use of the masks...or draw'
-- we could grow it -- because (he reads) 'o; draw a mask
similar to...'" But Joshua did not agree with the
interpretation. He read: "'Report on the use of the
masks goo make or draw a mask.‘ 91. 9;."

The discussion that ensued focused on the segment "report...and
make or draw...” The students went through an intricate reasoning
process, focusing on linguistic proof, to figure out what they were
obligated to do, according to the teacher's written directions. The
distinction being made, whether or not the verb in the middle of god -
o; belonged to both words or only one of them, determined whether or not
students had to do two activities for that category, or only one.

Robbie asked, "Do you know what o1 means?" Jason

reinforced, "Yes -- o -- 'make or draw.‘ You have to

IQRQIE on the use of masks goo make or draw the masks,
too." Robbie emphasized, "You don' have a choice."
Asbeid responded, with disappointment, "Aauw," while

Robbie drove home the point, "E;oove;y si;iingle oo;one"

(in a sing-song), "we do a report."
(Fld 10/14/88)

The distinction was how to group these phrases: Asbeid interpreted
it as follows: [Report...and make] or [draw], whereas Robbie and Joshua
interpreted it as [Report...] and [make or draw]. In the first
interpretation of the construction, students did not have to report and
make a model; they could simply draw. In the second, students not only

had to report, but they also had to do something else: make a model or

113
drawing. There was clearly more work involved in the second
interpretation, and it included reporting.

These students were viewing the task in terms of obligations to the
teacher to do the assignment, but only what was asked. The overriding
perspective in Group One's discussion that day was how to minimally
satisfy the teacher. Assuming an unequal power structure, Group One did
not capitalize on the opportunity to get to know each other better by
discussing what interested them. The silent member, Gilberto, remained
silent, and they knew no more about him after this set of interactions
than before the lesson.

In this example, the savvy of individual students was extended to
the other members of the group who were attempting to debase the
project. The effort in this case was foiled; and the resistant members
finally capitulated, accepting the necessity of doing two parts to each
assignment, including writing a report. What I have showed, then, was
not totally the demise of the design of a CGL project, but rather the
potential of students to collectively figure out how to waylay an
assignment.

There is a double twist to this particular story: the collective
aspects of bargaining in one way became a tool for the teacher and the
students to keep each other in line. Mrs. E. did not have to "waste"
her time discussing technical aspects of the assignment; students worked
it out themselves. However, the student bargaining still detracted from
in-depth discussion about the topics. In essence, oisoussing the
assignment displaced going it. If, instead, students had discussed more
what interested them, the context could have provided more information

about the various topics, as well as drawn in the silent member of the

114
group, Gilberto, to gain awareness of each other. The displacement of
work with negotiation over an assignment is a particularly sensitive
area in the teaching/learning context, as students can maneuver a case
of "not understanding” as the rationale to extend a discussion about
teacher expectations for their learning. In classes limited to a
specific period of time, students can redirect the time, from working to
talking about the work, and "run out the clock." When such bargaining
involves a group, rather than simply an individual, the learning of more
people is jeopardized. The case I cited is still more problematic
because the teacher was not there as part of the bargaining.

Another aspect of how students utilized the group context to
restrict academic engagement was the loss of intentional learning which
might have occurred had the group not talked an individual out of
something. Group One's discussion, which was designed to select
projects which were less work, also influenced one of the individuals to
not do something he was very interested in doing. Asbeid wanted to do a
project building a log cabin. The others thought it would take a very
long time, so the group did not choose to do that. While others did
projects on the side, such as Robbie's mocassin that he constructed and
the picture story of Mun and Ricardo's, Asbeid never did make a log
cabin. I suspect that Asbeid had seen such a project in a previous year
(I had) and had anticipated building a log cabin for a long time. He
was the only one in the group who talked about wanting to do something
specific, and he mentioned his interest three times. It is possible he
would have still chosen to do this on his own, if his peers had not so
adamantly convinced him of the lack of feasibility of the project (Fld

10/14/88).

115

There were other cases in which the students talked each other out
of doing certain parts that were not ”required.” Recall from chapter 3
the description of the cooperative group project of developing a list of
traits to describe characters in the Narnia novel they had been reading.
On their first day Mrs. E. had discussed with them her and their own
evaluations of the project, which had resulted in a fairly comprehensive
list for two of the four characters. As the groups reconvened to work
on the remaining two, Robbie had a thought: "Hey! for [a specific
character] we could put £§§£1 a fast runner." Both Mun and Ricardo
concurred, but Asbeid pointed out the technicality: ”We don't need to do
that one, anymore." The fact that students did not add this trait to
the list was not determined by the value of the contribution; all agreed
that the addition was a positive expansion to the work they had done the
previous time. However, no one wrote it down because it was not an
obligation to the teacher that they work on that character anymore. It
was not reguired.

Obligations to the teacher as main authority came first, so that,
even if students did not agree with something or thought it was
incorrect, if they thought Mrs. E. wanted it that way, they did it.

That was the case when one of the "Narnia" subgroups met to list traits
of characters. Courtney was writing down ideas for one character; she
suggested "Suspicious?" Asbeid disagreed, "Courtney, she's not
suspicious." But Megen cut short the discussion, stating, "We have to
put it cuz the teacher ooyo" (Fld 10/5/88). They did.

Along with acknowledging the primacy of obligations to the teacher,
in this case, there was a corresponding displacement of concerns of

academic quality. Once Megen had said that the teacher expected this

116
response, there was no further argument, in spite of the fact that they
did not agree that the response was correct, according to the text.
They disregarded their own knowledge and opinions, in the assumption
that primacy of obligation was to the authority outside their group.

Students had a complex balancing act to perform within any given
circumstance; operating within a group, they had to incorporate parts of
both traditional and egalitarian power structures. Sometimes, students
did not get past the traditional and primary obligation to follow the
teacher's instructions to sort out rights and obligations with each
other. An example was the impasse Group One experienced, when students
tried to reconcile the differences in the group with teacher
obligations.

In this lesson, Mrs. E. had announced that they were having a
"group thinking day." The lesson was a much more traditional one than
many of the projects in the native American unit. Students were to read
material from the packets provided about each Indian group and select
the main idea from each paragraph. Mrs. E. had instructed the groups to
have one person read a passage and then discuss it as a group. Group
One could not agree upon who would read.

Rb: I'll read.
ME: No, you're going to decide in the ggono. Together,

as a group.
Js: I want to.

Rb: I know.
Js: Then let's have someone oloo read, because we both
want to.

Rb: Mrs. E., who can read, because Joshua wants to, I
want to, Asbeid wants to?
ME: Decide in the group.

Members of the group suggested alternatives, such as taking turns,

or reading silently and then sharing information. No one could agree:

117

Rb: We can each read a paragraph.

Js: No, Robbie, we can't.

Rb: We'll just read paragraphs.

Js: No.

(Fld lO/27/88)
They never came to consensus because the alternatives did not meet the
teacher's original criterion to have one person read.

The group's only agreement in this case was that they could not
make a decision even to get started with the activity. This was the
result of legalistic thinking of the same nature as the analysis this
same group had conducted to try to bend the rules and do less.

Mrs. E. tried to encourage a group decision by suggesting an
alternative: "How about if I just read?" Josh agreed quickly, "Okay."
Mrs. E. queried, "That's fair? Because ILyo made the decision?" Both
Asbeid and Joshua responded jointly, "Yes." That is how the group
started functioning, with Mrs. E. reading first and then directing the
group discussion. The students had waylaid the CGL process, focusing on
a technicality in the obligation to the teacher. Possibly in the
interest of time, Mrs. E. had intervened in the breakdown of the group
process and made the decision herself. She was caught in the middle of
two decisions, neither of which were ideal: to allow the group to
continue indefinitely in an impasse and chance their never getting to
the main task; or to reinstate herself as the traditional authority with
the power to decide fo; the students. The decision to bypass the
group's decision making power was not what she preferred, having told
students before:

I can't emphasize this onongn. In your group, you must
decide...If it comes to that, take a vote. If you can't
agree, 1:11 decide. It would be much better if yon

decide. It would be better if you decided.
(Fld lO/21/88)

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Neither was it easy for the students, who, according to a strict
interpretation of the teacher's instructions, were balancing an implicit
contradiction among their obligations to the group, their own wishes and
"personal agendas," and the obligation to do exactly what the teacher
had said: select ono person to read.

Once the teacher had stepped in, her presence made it possible for
the group to take advantage of having her all to themselves. She
remained much of the period with the group, and they managed to use that
to their advantage, also, to get her to continue to "tell" them what to
do. The academic objectives were to gain in understanding about a
particular Indian group by identifying main ideas. When Mrs. E. would
probe, by asking leading questions, the students several times inquired,
”So, we underline that sentence?" "Do we write this down?" "That's all
we underline?” The task became one of doing what the teacher said, and
getting her to tell them what to do.

Group One had managed to turn this CGL context into a more
traditional, teacher-led one, with one major difference from the
traditional classroom: they now, in the small group, had Mrs. E. all to
themselves. This allowed them not only to get more help with the
"answers," but also to utilize the time to talk with Mrs. E. more and
make the lesson more interesting than the printed matter alone. During
the half hour that Mrs. E. joined them, she participated in several
small digressions of the readings. Some were initiated by her, some by
students, as points of interest arose. At one point, Mrs. E. could not
resist re-entering the conversation, even after she had announced that
they were going to take over the discussions and she would remain

briefly "with the first one to make sure it runs properly." Joshua had

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read a section on fishing, and then led a discussion of the kinds of
fish the native Americans might have caught. When Asbeid mentioned that
lobsters were from Maine, it sparked Mrs. E.'s interest and she
re-entered the discussion:

Oh, I see some geography. This is great. What other --

since you have -- I'm interrupting, I'm sorry -- but

since you brought this up, I can't stay on; of it -- but

-- when you think in terms of the oceans...

With that, the group was off on a conversation that extended to the
Seminole in Florida, and from that to movement of certain groups of
Indians from one geographical location to another, and the Trail of
Tears. What happened was not a monologue by Mrs. E., but a discussion
in which the students were contributing major pieces of information and
thus were also helping to steer the conversation.

I initially referred to this kind of event as a "digression," and
in traditional terms of "staying on task,” that is what it was.
However, an alternative to assessing the incidence of Mrs. E.'s
involvement is that she participated in and guided expansions of the
text, in which the students were doing more than just reiterating
someone else's information, but were also helping to construct a more
meaningful and holistic picture about native Americans by providing
details derived from their own experiences and understandings. The
students were involved in a different way during these expansions, not
asking technical questions about what to underline. Not only was it
more interesting, personal, and relevant for the students; but also for
the teacher, who had told them enthusiastically that she had done more

reading (Fld 10/27/88).

120

The point of this discussion is to show the effects of student
manipulation of the CGL context. Students had sabotaged the structural
organization of the lesson, according to fundamental principles of
cooperative learning. Although the teacher had originally intended for
them to learn together without her supervision, students collectively
had gotten Mrs. E. to alter the context and the nature of their
involvement and hers. However, even with the students' manipulation,
the teacher had managed to make the learning, in academic terms, more
meaningful with such changes. It was a different kind of teaching than
either traditional or cooperative learning settings, strictly defined.
CGL had become something both less and more than the original intent,
providing an opportunity for Mrs. E. to share her new learning with the
group. She related to this group of students in a more intimate setting
which was less pressured in terms of numbers, while the rest of the
class worked cooperatively on the task, as assigned. In some ways, the
change was serendipitous, allowing for sharing of ideas and the
emergence of a larger picture of native Americans that involved a
crucial social issue. The confines of discrete locations for tribes,
necessary for her organization of the groups, was loosened in this
discussion, to give a much more dynamic historical picture of native
Americans in this country. The curriculum as planned was expanded.

Lampert (1985) describes the dilemmas of teacher decision making,
asserting that rarely are the choices between an "ideal" and something
else, but generally are between the "lesser" of the various evils. Mrs.
E. had cleverly ”saved" this one dysfunctional group from a potential
disaster. In terms of academic learning, the decisions were very

effective. However, she had made the decisions for them and led the

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group; and these students had not learned by direct experience how to
work through differences and make group decisions, a major purpose of
cooperative learning. In addition, the teacher's interesting discussion
was geared toward these four students and not the rest of the class; she
spent most of this lesson with only a few students. Whether or not the
understandings of this group from this discussion were passed on to
others, I cannot determine. For her to have shared with everyone, she
would have needed to speak to the whole class. That was not her agenda.

This example of the students' manipulation, Mrs. E.'s intervention,
and the complicity of all participants in the undermining of the
original plan of the lesson indicates how complex it is to evaluate
interactions of cooperative group work, with multiple academic, social,
and personal goals. This complexity was mirrored in Josh's response,
when I asked him to describe cooperation. Usually very articulate and
polished, this student suddenly paused, unsure about which way to
describe cooperation. He then changed the wording from "You have to" to
"you get to cooperate" (Tr Int 12/15/88). In the first phrase, Josh
portrayed cooperation as an obligation; then he changed it, to indicate
that cooperation was a right. It was both, and the ambiguity of
interpretation for any particular situation sometimes invited a variety
of responses, some of which involved minimal compliance.

Although Mrs. E. often emphasized the quality of products, the
students still saw getting done as the single most important aspect of
the work they did. In the first example provided, Joshua really did not
want to write. He wanted to do minimal effort. Often, however, the
students were not necessarily resisting, as in trying to "trick" Mrs. E.

This type of "resistance" could often be linked to the students' attempt

122
to please the teacher, with the main objective as finishing the work.
By determining how to make it easy and fast, they may have been
attempting to guarantee that they would be able to complete the work.
Rather than doing this "against" the teacher, the manipulation to
minimalize tasks may have been some students' interpretations of how to

please her.

STUDENTS' DEPICTIONS OF COOPERATION IN GROUP STORIES AFTER TWO AND A
HALF MONTHS OF CGL

In spite of some levels of manipulation which resulted in
downgrading particular assignments, students had learned a great deal
during the seven-week CGL unit on native Americans. At Mrs. E.'s
suggestion, I designed a one-week storywriting unit to find out, after
two months of cooperating in CGL, how students were thinking about
cooperation. I hoped to gain insight into students' interpretations
from the textual portrayals of their characters. An essential feature
of these stories was that they would be ooo1o11y_oon§o;ooooo,
representing situations in which characters cooperated in ways that made
sense to whole groups of students, rather than individually-written
pieces.

I intended to examine the students' interpretations of their own
and their characters' relationships with each other; but I learned that
for many, the relationship with no as adult giving the assignment was
still paramount to other considerations. I inadvertently exacerbated
this by creating a problem in the design and criteria for writing the

story, instructing students to select two or more characters, present a

123
conflict between them, resolve the problem, and end the story with the
characters talking and acting cooperatively.

For many students, including all of these concepts in the order
required in the same story was not reasonable or realistic. Robbie and
Megen flatly informed me later that their characters did not cooperate
because "You can't have a happier ending; we need to not have them argue
so much" (Tr Int 12/16/88). Other student responses varied; one openly
protested the inclusion of conflict, while others dealt with it by
subtly sabotaging or making an ironic allusion to the theme of
cooperation. In each case, the students were in effect telling me the
story could not have goon conflict and cooperation.

Mun, usually very supportive of the teacher's stance, had tried to

talk me into altering the assignment, inquiring, "do we have to have a

 

problem in there?" When I suggested as characters the president and
vice-president from another country, Mun adamantly rejected the idea,
responding uncompromisingly, ”No. No nogging” (Tr Fld 12/7/88).

In the other three groups, students resisted my criterion of
transforming conflict into cooperation by constructing stories in which
characters were not very cooperative at the end. Although some groups
had argued over character selection, no one challenged the resolution or
representation of cooperation in their stories as being unrealistic,
incorrect, or unrepresentative. Even when given an opportunity to
change the story in retrospect, Asbeid critiqued the technical
construction, such as language and dialogue, but he did not challenge
the group's construction on the basis of tenets of cooperativeness (Tr

Int 12/16/88).

124

Some students saw cooperative endings as ”happily ever after"
themes that were inappropriate for characters who had been in conflict.
When I inquired if Robbie and Megen thought that in order to have
resolution to a story, the two people had to be happy, Robbie responded,
"Not exactly" and Megen agreed, adding, ”Just give in" (Tr Int
12/16/88). Similarly, when I asked if Garfield resolved breaking the
scale in Gogfiiolo;o_flioo, Courtney claimed, "Yes -- they just threw it
away!" Asbeid concurred, ”I think it's the best [solution]' (Tr Int
12/16/88).

Some of the students, savvy school-goers, had subverted the section
on cooperation, still meeting the most basic obligation to the teacher,
which was to complete the work by writing a story with the specified
three sections. The story depictions of cooperation did not tell me all
that students knew about cooperating, but only how they thought about it
in terms of the assignment. One storyline, for example, depicted
resolution as changing oneself and cooperation as withdrawing.

In Mi;;o;_flo;£ion, Group Three had introduced two look-alike
martians with nearly-alike names. The one named Really Unhuman was a
newcomer to Unhuman's territory. The problem was that both looked the
same and wanted the same thing. In order to resolve the dilemma, the
group decided that one character must change appearance, so the two
martians would no longer look alike; then he could "get out of this
place!" The newcomer decided to paint itself yellow. However, this was
not for the sake of determining property rights; the martians did not
share the land. Once one was different, the characters resolved their
differences by avoidance of further fighting through one's actual

physical withdrawal from the planet. (See Appendix C for complete story.)

125
When I suggested that they "take a look at the end," Megen
acknowledged that she knew the ending was not ”ideal," replying, "They
still didn't make friends.” The students in Group Three had chosen
withdrawal over other possible scenarios, which Rob and Megen produced
easily upon my later request to hypothetically change it and make it
work out. Rob and Megen offered the following solution:
Rb: Probably what I'd do, is I'd say, 'Well, this is my
planet, and no one has ever come here, before, and
so we can work this out, you can be on the other
side of the planet and so we can work this out, you

can be on the other side of the planet and...
Mg: [Rent-free.

Rb: No way.
Mg: (laughter)
Rb: ...and then they can just sorta' have half and half,

and that way, they can sorta' (7) each other, if
they want to come over, they oon.
(Tr Int 12/16/88)

Although they were perfectly able to construct a more equitable
solution, the group did not write one because it did not fit the
students' ideas of cooperation based on power as coercion and on human
nature as coercive, selfish, and uncontrollable when angry. "I mean,
lots of arguments just don't end, like 'OK, I'm sorry,‘ Megen explained
(Tr Int 12/16/88).

That was also the portrayal in the story Qorfield'g Big Diet, which
described three characters, Garfield, Jon, and Odie, fighting over the
last piece of lasagna and pizza. They argued about who deserved it the
most, based on what kind of food it was (i.e., cat food? dog food? or
human food?). The second section was actually not resolution, but a
literal fight scene, with characters throwing plates, hitting each other
with pans, and 'swacking" each other on the head. In addition, Odie

threw lasagna; and Garfield, at one point, fainted. The final page

126
showed two characters recovering, and Jon saying, "Okay, don't start it
again. Let's talk." The cooperation portrayed was Jon's cutting the
pizza into thirds and making another lasagna to share.

When I enquired later about alternative endings, Courtney
suggested, "There could be a mess all over, and they would clean it up
or something." However more cooperative this might have seemed, neither
Courtney nor Asbeid wanted to change the ending; inappropriate for the
context, it did not "sound right," as Asbeid told me (Tr Int 12/16/88).
Both Courtney's and Megen's groups did not see equitable resolution as a
real possibility with characters in conflict.

These group stories represented the kind of cooperation they had
learned before entering this classroom, one of compliance, withdrawal,
on the part of the characters. In addition, the group's cooperation
with me in completing the assignment as requested represented
cooperation as oooonnooooion to me as the teacher. The students felt
they could not honestly do the assignment the way I had constructed it.

In seeking alternatives, students had several choices; one was to
change the assignment and remove one of the elements. That was Mun's
original request, preferring to write about cooperation but not
conflict.2 Robbie's group had chosen to exploit the conflict section of
Migro; Margian, which came "naturally," he and Megen informed me, borne
out of their own conflict. Although they did not drop the cooperation
part, they reinterpreted what cooperation would be, under those
circumstances. Each response represented an accommodation of an
"impossible" request, in essence, ”playing the game of school" and doing

what the teacher wanted, even if it was ridiculous and contradictory in

127
form. They were cooperating with me, complying with an assignment that
did not make sense.

The students had both complied and resisted, subverting the very
thing I was most interested in: the part that showed how people
cooperate with each other. Inadvertently, by the very nature of the
assignment, I was feeding into the students' resistance patterns of
minimal compliance; by asking the "impossible," I was indirectly
teaching the very opposite of what I believe cooperation should be. I
had no idea I was encouraging students to comply with something they did
not believe in; I thought I was asking them to interpret, in their own
way, what cooperation is. I had not seen this as a relationship to me.

"The deeper you get into an argument, the harder it is, to cover
up,” Megen explained. If you cannot mask the disagreement, then you
leave, which is what they had the martian do in their story.

"Cover up" seemed a curious phrase to describe people trying to
resolve differences. That is what they were doing with me and my
assignment: covering up the incongruities by doing the work, creating
the story. This made sense, in terms of what several students had
learned were appropriate responses in previous experiences in outside
contexts, such as the home. Many had learned that cooperative behavior
was to placate, to ”behave," to conform, to cover up the problem. They
had brought these solutions from outside contexts and had also begun to
apply them to CGL situations. During the Indian unit, Ricardo and
Courtney had opted at different times to leave their respective groups
and make no further contribution, with an understanding that that was

being cooperative.

128

That students may have been covering up makes the situation even
more problematic, for although in terms of critical theory, I might say
that students were resisting my assignment and my assumptions, it is
entirely possible that they saw their action as complying. That is, the
covering up was for me, for my paradoxical assignment.

A holistic system of logic was emerging in the students' responses:
cooperation meant not arguing, not fighting, complying. To not argue,
you covered up, sometimes by withdrawing; other times, by giving in. In
covering up, you denied your own wishes. What might be interpreted as
resistance, then, could also have been a response in which students were
actually submerging the self for the sake of "pleasing" the adult.

There were, of course, instances in which students resisted, pressing
for personal concerns and surfacing that submerged "self.” But other
instances of manipulation seem to have been done in deference to the
teacher and the need to complete the assignment.

Rob's reactions in the storywriting unit indicate the complexity of
a student's making sense of his relationships within the CGL context.
Rob's initial response to the assignment was an attempt to coerce peers
into accepting his idea of which character to adopt. In a way, he was
attempting to create a sub-hierarchy, in which he, rather than the
teacher, was in control. He shouted; he leaned across the table so the
shouting would be more intimidating. The group was in impasse for most
of that first period of writing; when I held a short class discussion to
note progress, and encouraged Rob's group to "get going," he
capitulated. In essence, my intervention symbolized a return to the

"original" hierarchy, with the adult in control.

129

The remainder of Rob's actions looked quite cooperative and
harmonious. He became very active in creating the dialogue in the story
(Fld 12/7/88-12/9/88). In fact, Rob informed me later in an interview
that he had become the character Really Unhuman, and the character's
response to conflict and mode of cooperation represented Rob's within
group interactions.

Robbie spoke interchangeably of himself and the character "I just
gave in when I was : he just gave in 'cuz he : he got tired with the
arguing, and he was just : : : 'I'm tired of that,’ and he just gave
up." The character had changed his color to be different, so he could
"get out of this place!”

Giving in and getting out were Robbie's interpretation of
cooperation, both in his own actions as a member in the group and in the
character he projected as himself. Although the martian had wanted to
ogoy in the back yard, "after all the arguing, it was just too much."
Robbie concluded, "the martian that I was being just wanted to get outa'
there, he didn't really care." Rob, tired of the group's arguing, just
wanted to finish the assignment (Tr Int 12/16/88). Rob gave in to
comply to my wishes to finish quickly; he interpreted his actions as
withdrawal, what the character he "was being" did. Yet, when he ceased
to argue, he actually gig participate in a cooperative manner in the
group. But he defined what he did in terms of the character's actions
and therefore did not recognize that he actually had become a more
egalitarian, contributing member of the group. What he did with them
was not apparent, because he had capitulated, had gotten "outa' here"
symbolically and psychologically. He no longer cared about the

assignment on one level, and the actions that looked positive did not,

130
in his mind, represent himself or his interests, but rather simply a
response to my demands. That was cooperation: what he did with the
higher authority in the hierarchy.

To Rob and others, cooperating was dealing with a structure of
power that coerced "work." It was also a portrayal of human nature.
Student portrayals of cooperation indicated a resistance to what they
knew I wanted, on the basis of what is ”real." While Megen's group
resisted by not having a "happy" ending, another group, writing Ibo
Eight fot the Anglo, did just the opposite. This group showed their
characters cooperating in a more egalitarian manner, but then made it
explicit that it was a "happily ever after" story to cue the reader that
it was, in essence, a fairy tale.

Ino Eight to; the Angle, written by Josh's group, had two dogs
fighting over who would get an apple they had each spotted in a tree.
The argument was based on who had seen the apple first. Resolution did
not concern the legalities, but the more pragmatic issue that neither
could reach the apple by himself. They both, at the same time, said,
"We've got to figure a way out of this." The cooperation section
portrayed Spike standing on Spot's head to reach the apple. The
conclusion stated that Spike "rips the apple in half; they eat it
happily ever after.” (See Appendix C for complete story.)

This is the only story that student groups wrote in which
characters collaborated in the solution of the problem and reaped
equally from the outcome. To get the apple, they worked together,
creating a living ladder in order to reach it. Once they had the apple,

one dog split it in two equal parts so they could share.

131

The story ended, ”They eat it [the apple] happily ever after." The
one story with no obvious violence ono a happy ending concluded with
words that typify the classical fairy tale ending: old-time fantasy.
The words ”They lived happily ever after“ were altered only slightly, to
"They eat it happily ever after." Since obviously the phrase "happily
ever after" could not depict the continuity of the act of eating, it
clearly indicated a fairy-tale quality to the story, i.e., unreality.
The key issue was the theme itself: cooperation. Possibly, it seemed
unrealistic because there was no fighting or violence in the story; at
the least, the students did not see sharing the apple as realistic.
Although these four students constructed the story according to my
specifications, it appears by their fairy tale wording that it was not
realistic to portray the two characters cooperating.

To support his point about "realism" versus cooperation, Robbie
used the example of a recent appearance of a movie director on a
television talk show who had shown how "it's a lot easier to make one
[ending] that's sorta' sad." Megen agreed, "...a lot of times, they
[the characters] end up having grudges, and it's kinda' hard to..."
Robbie inserted, "get out of a grudge." He told me, "They're just angry
at each other, now how are you supposed to have those guys make friends
or something? It's kind of difficult..." I asked if there would be any
way for the characters to realize that conflict is not the answer. I
suggested an alternative, and asked if that would work. "Wait a minute,"
I said, pretending to be a character, "maybe we could work this out, so
we both get basically what we want, and we don't have to klll anybody."
Rob gave me an emphatic, "_ol" and Megen said "Not (laugh) ottoolly" (Tr

Int 12/16/88).

132

Resolution and cooperation, as the ”ideal," were incongruous themes
together with conflict and violence. This whole storywriting unit
remained a symbol of the hierarchy of how students thought about
cooperation: first, with the adult or person with more power, and only
secondarily, with peers. Resolution was either coercion or withdrawal,
depending on the position of power. The kind of c00peration that
"worked" and was more practical was evasion.

Bettleheim (1958) talks about the need for agency in Iho_ln£otnoo
flo_tt. He describes evasion as a serious problem, using as an extreme
example, the parents of the heroine in Ibo Dioty of Anne Etank. It was
easier to evade the problem than to take action and deal with it. As a
result, the entire family died. Robbie, however, acknowledged the
problem, and still evaded it. Even after three months of exposure to
cooperative group learning, Robbie still saw evasion as the solution to
disagreement. He was still missing what Greene (1988) calls a language
of "possibility" for alternatives and was interpreting his group story,
as well as group context, according to what was familiar: power
hierarchies.

According to Rob's previous experiences with arguing, withdrawal
was a more realistic solution than working out the situation so that all
the participants could "win.”

Although the students did not specify that one martian had less
status as an outsider, their resolution of having the newcomer give in
and leave, rather than the property owner, indicates the lack of power
the second party had. The Group Three students viewed the second
martian as having infringed on the first's territory. Barth (1969)

discusses that groups create boundaries in order to keep others who are

133
different out; the students' story ELIIQI_H§ILIQQ is an interesting case
because the two characters were loontlool. Yet, as a stranger, he had
infringed on the boundary of a social organization to which he did not
belong "initially" (see Simmel 1908, 1971). The notion of opening a
space to this newcomer who looked exactly like the participant who
"belonged" was not explored. It was too much of a hassle to work
through difficulties; it was easier just to leave.

This same way of treating strangers, by making them leave, was
mirrored in some of the student's responses to peers who were different.
Sometimes, they actually tried physically to relocate them; more often,
they cut off the person's turns to speak and provide input. This type
of response to peers who were linguistically or culturally diverse
occurred often when students felt threatened in their capacity to meet
the demands to the higher authority to finish their work in time. Under
such circumstances, one solution was to close the spaces to these
"strangers" who did not belong. During times of stress, the ”outsiders"
did not have the same rights as the ”insiders."

Mrs. E. had provided many opportunities for these students to learn
to be more open. And Robbie had welcomed this notion. In spite of the
disposition to be open, Robbie still considered conflict as unresolvable
when he wrote the story with his group and when he talked about it

afterwards. The others did not dispute this perspective.

EXPANDING ACADEMIC LEARNING: SHARING/INTENTIONAL LEARNING

Although I have thus far described some significant problems,

nevertheless, there were many positive aspects to students' learning

134
about cooperation, which I describe in this following section. As could
be predicted from previous literature, the CGL experiences in this
classroom did provide opportunities for student academic growth in many
ways, representing a reservoir of resources to accomplish something
beyond the capacity of what a single student could do. Particularly
with extended units, a learning community was developed through CGL in
which students could discuss, brainstorm, help each other work through
reasoning processes, and offer suggestions for improvement.

As a result of the combined efforts, the students amassed material
to share with other classes, extending not only their own but also
others' interest in the subject. One example was the second grader's
questioning of Megen about the "wet" buffalo skin. (See Chapter 1.)

I noted toward the culmination of the Indian project that students
were questioning each other, requesting information from each other,
sharing information and applying it to the projects, responding with
interest to each other's information, indicating pride in peers' work.
They extended the chance to learn about native Americans by asking each
other questions, which included but went beyond the factual. They asked
each other questions which indicated not only confidence in peers'
ability to reflect on higher levels and be "experts," but also showed
that students were trying to construct meaning about how the native
Americans lived and thought. Sivan, demonstrating a model totem pole
his group had made of an owl and bear, explained that the Northwest
Indians' totem poles were "stories: they thought their ancestors were
animals" (Fld 11/11/88, 11/17/88). Ricardo's question, ”Were the totem
poles like idols?" reflected the attempt to make sense of the Haida

religions system within his own schema of beliefs. "How'd they get the

135
whales back from the ocean?" another wondered, seeing on the mural the
small canoes and kayaks that the Northwest Indians used.

The process of asking each other questions was also valuable as
modeling for self-examination of what an individual had learned and
needed to think about next, as demonstrated by Sivan's announcement to
the class: "I have a question for myself. I don't know what kind of
environment they had.” Students also learned to help each other to
select what information to seek next. Robbie suggested to Group Four
that they explore more about the hunting that the Northwest Indians did
because, he predicted, "someone's gonna' ask you that" (Fld 11/17/88).

Students were able to cite specific academic information they had
acquired from others' projects during a class discussion on the final
day of the Indian unit. When Mrs. E. asked what they had learned from
the project, students responded about the Southeast Indians' pueblos: "I
thought they had windows on the bottom floor." One student commented
about the homes of Northeast Group: "I thought the longhouses had
windows." April had made a pair of very homey blue and yellow polka
dotted curtains on a window on her group's longhouse, until she checked
the photographs and information in a reference book. Her change had
attracted her peers' attention. About the Northwest native Americans, a
student reported learning about potlatches as a social custom, as well
as about totem poles and how the native Americans associated them with
their ancestors (Fld 11/18/88).3

When students rehearsed their presentations to their own
classmates, they did not just give “facts," but explained yhy the people
they studied responded in various ways. For example, as Ricardo

described the pueblo on the mural his group had created to depict the

136
life of the Southwest Indians, he explain that ”the Pueblo and Hopis
didn't move around a lot, because you can see their houses were hard to
build.” He also explained that "they planted crops near water, so it
wasn't too hard to carry them" (Fld ll/l7/88).

By working in groups, students were able to create the extended
projects on native Americans. Mrs. E. pointed this out as groups
finished their murals, praising the work and concluding,

They're gotgoooo. You can look back and be prong of what
you did as a group. If you'd done that, as one person,
it'd take you 'til doomoooy.

(Fld 11/3/88)

Working together, the students were able not only to otodoce more
to ooo; but I noticed that, as they presented their final reports for
groups of visiting classes and parents, students learned from each
other. What one student said one time, another would remember and
present another time. As the students shared their learning with
others, the presentations actually began to take longer, because they
had so much more to say. By the third presentation, Mrs. E. noted to
the visiting teacher, "I set this up for a 15 minute presentation -- and
this took 45 minutes. I'm very proud of that. It means they know a lot
more than I thought!" She noted to the students how well they had
"picked up from others," concluding, "so, you're learning from each
other" (Fld ll/18/88).

CGL also provided an opportunity for students to extend
assignments and be creative together. The ideas of one person could
"turn on" another; and one of the most interesting and promising aspects
of group work turned out to be the new sharing dimension of intentional

learning. This did not happen often, but points to a positive area to

137

explore in the future. The best example was provided by Ricardo and
Mun, in Group Three, who became excited about a book on Navajo symbols
and utilized the symbols to design their own story, related to recent
experiences, about a boy who had chickenpox. The project had furthered
the boys' appreciation of the linguistic complexities of the Navajo
language, and they pointed out during presentations to other classes
that Navajo is not only "one of the hardest writing in the world,” but
also one of the "hardest longoogoo to speak" (Fld ll/l7/88, ll/18/88).

I will continue with this story in the following chapter, which is
devoted to students' social learning and interactions within the CGL

contexts.

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NOTES

1 Spelling and punctuation are presented as in the original student
writing.

2 Mun's group had selected a Garfield theme only after I had insisted
that they write about conflict also. In retrospect, had I allowed
the flexibility requested, I would have gotten a much different
picture of how this group would depict cooperation. What I did learn
was, again, cooperation and conflict do not "go together."

3 Mrs. E. had not geared the discussion to specific groups; one group,
the Plains Indians, did not happen to be mentioned. Not all students
responded, because the discussion was cut short by the arrival of the
next group of visitors.

Chapter 5

STUDENTS, CGL, AND SOCIAL ASPECTS OF COOPERATION

MEETING MRS. E.'S GOALS: INCREASING PEER AWARENESS, UNDERSTANDING,
APPRECIATION

Ricardo and Mun's Navajo sign writing project showed how a dyad
could do something special together, and in the process, grow in
understanding and friendship. Although every individual's progress was
unique, the experience of these two boys is one example of student
growth in acceptance and appreciation through CGL contexts in this
classroom. In this chapter I explore aspects of both growth and
limitations in social understanding which students experienced in the
process of cooperating through cooperative group learning.

Ricardo and Mun had worked together in September with Megen on a
group project creating a large map representing the geographical
locations of a story they had read. Mrs. E. had informed me that the
groups had tried this once before and the lesson had "bombed," because
all the students did was "argue." When I joined Ricardo's group, Megen
had greeted me with a wry comment, "You can stay here and see us
arguing!" The two boys subsequently had fought constantly about the
spelling of words, sharing the eraser, where to put the parts of the
map, whether or not they should talk, what words meant, whether touching
Mun's poison ivy would cause Ricardo to get it also. Ricardo complained
about Mun's irritating noise when he scratched the poison ivy.

Rejecting each other's contributions, they forced each other to re-do
lettering, Ricardo telling Mun, "No! That's ngly, Mun." Mun's response

was to sit back, arms crossed over his chest and retort, "Let's see you

139

140
do better." Ricardo erased all of Mun's lettering, and Mun criticized
him for being "so slow" and wasting "lots of time." When Ricardo
finished his own lettering, Mun said he wanted it to go all across the
page, so Mun erased Ricardo's work and they argued about the height of a
letter. Finally, Ricardo told Mun, ”lln doing this. There -- is that
big enough, Mr. Sinister?" Over an hour later, the two had accomplished
very little, in comparison with the other groups working on a similar
project (Fld 9/17/88).

Less than two months later, the Navajo story project was a great
contrast, with Mun and Ricardo demonstrating full acceptance of each
other's contributions as they described their chicken pox sign story to
me (see end of chapter 4).

"We made it up. Me and him,” Ricardo explained. ”He
found the pages and he helped me with the story, and I
helped with the story." Mun added, ”And he did the
drawing." "We made the story together," Ricardo
concluded with a smile.

(Fld 11/17/88)

Not only did Mun and Ricardo grow in appreciation of each other's
academic and conceptual contributions, but they had also manifested a
friendship and now stood there, smiling at each other, with Ricardo's
right arm around Mun's shoulder. These two and others had changed,
acquiring new understandings about working with others after years of
conditioning in traditional classrooms.

Accustomed to having the teacher decide student rights and
obligations, students faced a new challenge, with the need to take on
contextual interpretations of these responsibilities themselves in

groupwork. At first, when they began to make sense of their obligations

to each other, they thought in terms of what peers did not do for them,

141
focusing on themselves and personal rights, rather than their
obligations to others.

In the first whole-class discussion about cooperation ten days
after beginning the Indian unit, Courtney complained that she got stuck
with all the work because peers ”want for you to give the answer."
Asbeid also talked about his personal rights rather than the obligations
of everyone, complaining: "You can end up doing all the work while they
talk, and they just write it down." Joshua thought about his rights in
terms of not "getting a chance," because "one person talks a lot” (Fld
lO/l4/88).

These three students voiced concerns focused on individual rights
and interests, rather than social responsibility. However, the way they
responded may nevertheless have represented a certain awareness about
their relationship to others as a result of working in groups. Although
it was common for a student to speak in the first person, the students
in this discussion all used the word yon to indicate thenoelvoo.

Perhaps a beginning bridge to considering others and their rights,
students talking in the second person about their own individual
experiences seemed to indicate that they were aware that this could
apply also to others' feelings.

Two weeks later, some of the student responses had expanded beyond
personal rights to focus on group responsibility. Students were
expressing a greater sense of community. Courtney, comparing CGL to the
operation of democracy, stated, "everybody has to share the
responsibility." Emily spoke of the responsibility to cooperate,

suggesting ”if you have an idea, change it a little bit, to fit."

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Sivan, worried that people might ”feel left out," advocated that they
"not use one person's ideas," but ”everyone's ideas” (Tr Fld 11/1/88).

The way these individuals talked about working with others had
changed. The use of phrases like onoolo and hoo_to indicated expanding
awareness of the egalitarian part of the power structure. In addition,
words like no and oyotyono, marked a collaborative effort and emphasized
the groupness of the experience, rather than the individuality.

In the class discussion on the culminating day of the native
American unit, students reported that they had learned to share and "use
everybody's ideas," compromise and "do some things you don't want to
do," and accept others. ”You have to face it and try to help the other
person and not start to yell," Sivan concluded. They had, as Courtney
described, "met people more; learned how to get along with them more"
(CD Fld 11/18/88).

I noted that some students had become advocates for other peers.
Mun, for example, insisted that the group give Lina a turn to read when
the group was taking turns reading selected passages and "learning all
they could,” in preparation for the presentations to visitors (CD Fld
11/18/88). Earlier, the same group was instructed to share what they
were learning from their individual reports; Ricardo had told the group
"Let her talk," when Lina had hesitantly begun to explain her report on
Kachinas and sand paintings.

That was Group Three; likewise, in Group One, peers became
advocates for Gilberto, who was learning English as a second language
and was hesitant to speak. At first, they had argued over who would
have to interact with Gilberto. Asbeid had flatly said "I don't gont to

work with Gilberto." When I played back the tape later, he stuttered,

143

"But he never: but he never: but he never talks when I work with him on
something...he just: he just onlloo." Joshua reported, "he just writes
down on his paper, and he doesn't toll us" (Tr Int 10/17/88). When Mrs.
E. assigned Joshua to work with Gilberto to discuss a reading, Joshua
bargained to limit the time: "For a llttlo while; then do we switch?
Then do me and someone else...?" (Fld 10/27/88). During the three
months of research, Gilberto never did talk much in the groups; his
peers, however, began to go out of their way, looking for him if he did
not appear, asking his opinion, learning to read his facial gestures as
well as written responses (Fld 11/3/88, 11/17/88, 12/6/88). Through CGL
experiences, these students and others demonstrated through their
interactions increased awareness, understanding, and appreciation for
Gilberto. Several students praised not only Gilberto's but also
Onochie's work, as well as Robbie and Courtney's presentations, and
Lina's report.

I had not originally traced how students thought about themselves;
nor had I thought about the meta-cognitive aspects of their learning. I
was looking for products: what they did and said, and what they said
about what they had done. It had not occurred to me to step back and
trace the changes in boy they thought about themselves, their
interactions, and their peers.

My interest was sparked by a comment Mrs. E. made to me after the
study was over. She mentioned one day that Robbie, one of her most
"difficult” and “problematic" students when it came to cooperating with
others, had benefited most from my presence as a researcher. She had

concluded that my having asked him questions had helped him to become

144
much more "philosophical" (PC 1/08/89). From her comments, I decided to

trace Robbie's progress.

Cas ' ie

Mrs. E. had made me curious. When I interviewed her several weeks
later, I inquired what she meant by the term onilosoohical; I asked what
sorts of things Robbie was saying or doing that led her to conclude
that. Mrs. E. explained:

He seems to be more aware of what other people are doing;
he seems to be more analytical about things, than turning
into himself...I do think the research helped him, just
to the point of : having you ask him questions, and
making him think : I think his thinking process about
someone other than himself : expanded...I think Robbie

has come a long way.
(Tr Int 2/24/89)

Mrs. E. was talking about the thinking process of this student.

This further aroused my interest, and I traced Rob's thinking in
interview transcripts. I had asked Robbie one time what he had learned
about working with the group in the Indian unit, and he had responded
”Um, the painting.” At first, I thought he meant he learned how to
paint better, but with more probing, he explained that it had to do with
learning about Gilberto, the person he knew the least when he began
working with Group One. He told me,

it kinda' showed who liked to paint, and who liked to

draw, because Gil liked to draw -- I thought he was gonna

like to paint. And after he drew, then he wanted to

paint.
(Tr Int 12/15/88)

145

Robbie had concluded that knowing more what people llko made it
easier to cooperate with them. He was referring to the beginning of
group constructions of murals depicting the lifestyles of the native
Americans for each geographical location. By the end of the unit,
Gilberto had stopped working alone and had painted the leggings with
Asbeid and then with Robbie. I asked Robbie how he had been able to
tell what Gilberto wanted to do, at that point, since Gilberto had not
really spoken; Rob responded, "Oh. It's just how he acted."

I realized that there had been a change in how Robbie thought about
Gilberto. Originally, he felt Gil had the obligation to talk; later, he
had accepted Gil's right to communicate in his own way and Robbie had
taken on some of the responsibility to change, so that he could work
successfully with this silent peer. He confirmed in a December
interview that he could at that point communicate with Gil even if he
didn't tell him in words (Tr Int 12/6/88).

As I traced Robbie's thinking about others, I realized that he also
had learned to think about himself more analytically, so that he thought
of himself in terms of how he affected others and how peers would
describe or react to him, in certain situations. Robbie told me that he
had some problems accepting others' ideas and that produced problems
21th the others.

Ummmm : yea, like, sometimes I can be hard on people that
didn't do things er...if they don't (do what I like).
They don't really like that. It tends to bother people.
(Tr Int 11/29/88)

Through observations of his relationship with others during group
work, Rob could candidly describe himself as others saw him and

understand that when he did not accept peers' ideas, it caused bad

146
feelings. I asked Robbie if he had any ideas about what he could do
about his tendency to be "hard" on others. He did: "You could say
'That's a good idea, but maybe we could change it a few ways...er, maybe
it was better if we use this, instead of that'" (Tr Int 12/6/88).

What Robbie was suggesting was a compromise, changing his ideas and
being less rigid. He could also cite a more considerate and mutually
respectful way to talk with peers about their differences. He
understood he should leave room open for peer response and not try to
control the interactions.

Robbie had learned many things, both about peers, and about
himself. He now knew how to pick up cues to communicate with peers even
if the other person did not talk with him. He had re-thought the issues
of his own rights and how that related to peers' rights, and had learned
to accept Gilberto's right to be different. In addition, he had begun
to realize that his peers had a right to express different ideas, as
well. The thinking about his peers drew attention to thinking about
himself; and Robbie had become aware of some of his own tendency to want
to do things only his way. He could now describe not only how he
responded to peers, but also how peers responded to him. He could see
himself as an object of the reflections of others, and could talk about
and analyze the situations that were problems for him and peers;
furthermore, he could offer concrete and effective ways to compromise

and be more diplomatic in peer interactions.

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Case ° Co e

I traced Courtney's thinking about intra- and inter-personal
aspects of working in groups for two reasons: 1) because Mrs. E.
considered her the most difficult student to teach to cooperate; 2) she
was one of the most articulate and provided a great deal of input from
interviews.

It was not only Mrs. E. who regarded her as having a hard time
cooperating with others. Ricardo, who had participated with her in the
Southwest Group during the Indian unit, described the problem from the
peer's point of view:

Like, with Courtney, the only way you / the only way you
can be : like : Courtney's friend, and cooperate with
her, is if you do everything not way...you know, I mean,
she'd ask us, but she'd make the decision anyway.

(Tr Int 11/29/88)

Ricardo explained that he finally rebelled and "didn't listen to

her" after a while, but that presented problems, also,
because we didn't listen to her, and that was good,
except we weren't her friend once we didn't listen to
her...It was still difficult working with her.
(Tr Int 11/29/88)

Even though Courtney had some difficulty cooperating with peers, I
found evidence of a similar kind of progress in meta-awareness that had
occurred with Robbie. Her growth in understanding interactions had not
necessarily been obvious because her overt actions had not always

changed significantly. But she was also aware of this, and could talk

intelligently about why she was so "forceful" with her peers: "Maybe

148
it's because I was an only child and I : I had my: you know, my : the
way I wanted” (Tr Int 11/7/88).

Although Courtney told me that, to resolve problems, people should
act democratically, i.e., "be fair," she was aware that this does not
always happen: "Well, sometimes Asbeid fights about if he doesn't like
what happens, and so do I -- mostly I do, because I was the only child
in the family" (Tr Int 11/29/88). In spite of her being accustomed, as
Mrs. E. said, to "running the show," Courtney had learned through CGL
how to ”treat" peers, growing in awareness and understanding. She had
made adjustments in order to communicate with Gilberto, for example,
without his talking, although she preferred to talk with him. She
explained, "You should look at people : how they're acting : how they're
acting, if they don't say anything” (Tr Int 12/6/88).

Although Ricardo may have felt that Courtney seemed insensitive to
filo needs, in contrast, her comments about Gilberto and others indicated
awareness, understanding and acceptance of others, at least
conceptually. Other peers saw Courtney as very interested in others and
very helpful; when she spoke of being sad about the way others had
treated Willie one day, Megen said, "That's Courtney." Courtney had
been watching her peers and "...trying to relate other people with other
people...the people that I think work yoll in groups."

Observing and analyzing peer interactions, Courtney made
comparisons, noting that Willie "misses out" because "they won't listen
to him," whereas, peers did listen to Ricardo because "he talks really
strong.” Courtney could cite which peers were able to work effectively

in a group with her, according to very specific information on

149
communicative competencies regarding directness, humor, and
predictability.

Courtney had developed the metaphor of ”democracy" to talk about
what it was like for her to work in groups. Like Rob, she did not
always manifest her understandings in the interactions, but she had
increased awareness and understanding. She explained, taking the role
of someone who had lost an election in a democracy, "I shouldn't say
'No, no, no, I don't llko it that way, it isn't fair.‘ You shouldn't
push : and also it should be -- democracy is also being fair" (Tr Int
12/16/88).

In fact, Courtney saw this discrepancy, or lag, between what she
knew and could talk about, and what she could do, or put into action.
She told me, "It's easier -- sometimes, it's easier to tolk about your

friends than get along with them" (Tr Int 12/16/99).

Disoussion

Both Robbie and Courtney had learned a tremendous amount about
effective social interaction -- more, in fact, than I had originally
thought to look for. Courtney was aware of her problem of wanting her
own way, and the source of it. She had learned to observe others, to
see what made them effective or not effective with others. She could
identify elements of communication that made interactions more
comfortable to her.

Rob also had grown, in terms of meta-awareness of himself, others,
and alternative ways to interact. He had achieved awareness,

understanding, and acceptance of Gilberto; and he had assumed

150
responsibility -- at least the first step -- in terms of being aware of
and acknowledging his own problem areas and identifying and developing
ways of improving his interactions in working with others.

Looking at students' development of understanding about
interactions with peers lends more light to David Cohen's (1988) caution
about feeling an "illusory sense of failure" when evaluating innovative,
nonconventional teaching and learning. What I had originally been
looking for was a product with these students -- what they 919 that was
successful when they worked in groups. If I had only looked for
"recipes," of h2! kids cooperated, rather than seeking out students'
constructions of meanings, I might easily have concluded that Robbie and
Courtney had learned very little in this initiatory unit on cooperation,
since they had argued and often dominated the group interactions in that
last storywriting unit. But, actually, something important had
happened, not in their ootlono, but in their thlnklng.

What Mrs. E. had wanted for these students -- to know themselves
better through others -- had actually happened, with the two I was able
to trace retroactively. In the process of learning to evaluate the role
of others in the interactions, these students, and others, had also
developed the ability to evaluate themselves, to take a step back and
treat themselves as objects of study. They had developed a
meta-thinking which enabled them to observe and think about their
interactions with others; to reevaluate others; and to become more
aware, understanding, and accepting of them. This new thinking had also
transferred to themselves, so that they developed new self-awareness as
they saw themselves through the eyes of their peers, as a result of the

interactions with others.

151

The CGL contexts had provided a potential, an opportunity to meet
and know each other in varying degrees in different contexts, so that
students had eventually acquired new friendships. When I finished my
observations in December, Courtney had become friends with Lina,
Gilberto with Willie. Their peers had included both Lina and Willie in
their group processes during the final unit of group work. Gilberto had
spoken and participated in the construction of the group story. Major
changes had taken place. Students had also grown in understanding of
previously-existent friendships, and in self-understanding. In spite of
these various accomplishments, not the least of which was peer
acceptance of the ”strangers" in the group, perhaps the single most
important effect of this three-month period of teaching students to
cooperate with others was the change in how they thought about
relationships. I have traced this progress in the two students
considered most difficult to cooperate. Although each had experienced
cooperative interactions with peers during some group contexts, they
also had manifested some very un-cooperative situations. The change was
sporadic in terms of overt actions; but what was happening in their

mindo was less tangible, a less easily identifiable transformation.

STUDENTS' PRECONCEPTIONS OF INTRA-SOCIETAL AND GLOBAL COOPERATION

One of Mrs. E.'s purposes for utilizing CGL was to provide
opportunities for students to interrelate and communicate with peers to
develop awareness, understanding, and acceptance of diversity. In three

months, she had accomplished this goal with many of the students.

152

However, in spite of many intra- and inter-personal changes,
student retained the idea of cooperation as compliance and an
understanding of power as hierarchical and coercive. This was not
caused by the teacher's shift in perspectives, although it was sometimes
supported by her responses. Participants' historical contexts, which
included personal experiences from home, sports, and previous schooling,
as well as knowledge about societal and global cooperation, had
influenced interpretations of what it meant to cooperate.

Mrs. E. assumed that students could take their learning about
cooperation from CGL, which involved learning to understand and take the
perspective of others, work through conflict, make decisions together,
and apply that as future citizens. She explicitly connected group work
to both national and global situations, stressing the need to care about
others and to cooperate in all aspects of life, emphasizing the many
problems that result when people do not cooperate. She presented
democracy as a process in which people take their differences to the
polls and accept the decisions, without having a war or killing each
other afterwards (Fld 10/14/88; Tr Int 2/24/89).

To her examples, the students applied their own understandings of
cooperation on national and international levels, which were based on
hierarchical power structures and the use of power to coerce and
dominate others. Courtney had introduced democracy as a metaphor in a

class discussion, saying cooperation, like democracy is "hard" (Fld

 

ll/l/88). Students were learning about democracy with relation to the
national Presidential elections, which occurred during the research
period. In a mock election, all but two had selected the candidate who

subsequently lost. This coincidence served as an example of voting as

153
winning/losing, and simply reinforced the notion that cooperation, even
in a democracy, ended up being a power hierarchy. Rather than focus on
the egalitarian aspects, Mun connected the limitations to freedom in the
larger society to democracy in the classroom. "Still," he explained,
"democracy does not include some things in democracy you have some
things you don't want to do, because democracy isn't oll, you know.” He
concluded, "Even if there's like democracy in our classroom, some
things...they still just have to do it, even if there's democracy" (Tr
Int 11/07/88).

After the elections, the students who referred to democracy as a
metaphor for cooperation did not, in the end, change their
preconceptions of cooperation; ultimately, it was still a context of
power hierarchies. Joshua explained, "One person wins...you still have
to cooperate, but you have to like ask: ook them” (Tr Int 11/29/88).
There was no sense of people still working on common goals, after the
election. Robbie predicted vindication, as he spoke of the Republicans
and Democrats ”always fighting"; he assumed it was never over because
"you never know, 'til we strike again” (Tr Int 11/29/88). fittlklng, a
militaristic term, implied that elections were a conflict to be
continuously re-enacted, rather than people working together to
represent all interests fairly.

The students' tendency to respond with a rationale of violence as
the resolution to problems between groups was evident at the very
beginning of the Indian unit. Mrs. E. had discussed the plight of the
native Americans' losing their lands, comparing it to a take-over of
Greene Platte by students from another school. Students responded,

"We'd want toll defense" and "I'd get a crossbow," assuming that

154
superior weapons was the issue, rather than learning to understand and
accept differences, to develop compromises, to share the land (Fld
lO/4/88).

Kids' interpretations of personal experiences sometimes included
similar overtones of violence. Asbeid, referring to being "democratic"
at home as trying to share, reported that his attempts always ended in
his younger brother's eating the entire cookie. He and Courtney
jokingly concluded that violence would be more effective. Although this
might be "child abuse,” kicking his unreasonable sibling would solve his
problem better than trying to share with him. His solution resembled
the classes' problem-solving for native Americans who were robbed of
their lands; resorting to a power hierarchy and increasing the violence
would "resolve" his problem (Tr Int 12/15/88).

Asbeid's conclusion was made after many weeks of CGL and resembled
more what he knew from the outside world than what he had done with
peers in groups to solve problems. Most students, whether speaking of
national or international issues, had a generally dismal view of human
beings' "cooperating" either to balance power or to make the environment
better. These feelings, together with experiences from other contexts
in cooperating, contributed to students' continuing to respond with the
idea that cooperating was not fighting. Even when projecting herself to
being an adult, Emily said she would still give in, in a case of
dispute, and that she would feel good about it, because she wouldn't
"have to fight anymore" (Tr Int 11/09/88).

Mehan and Wood (1975) caution against assuming that adult realities
are childrens'. Mrs. E.'s hopeful view that these students would be

instrumental later in improving global relationships was not necessarily

155
shared by the students. She had a philosophy about conflict that
assumed "these things pass"; but the students, in contrast, saw the
future as bleak (Int 2/24/89). Students in this classroom represented
areas all over the world, including Latin America, the Far East, and
war-torn countries such as Iran and Israel; many viewed violence, war,
and destruction as the norm of human behavior. Nuclear war was not the
only serious concern; the students also referred to ecological
”catastrophes." The students' candid, sad predictions of the future
expressed little hope for solutions; they assumed, instead, that humans
in power would dominate those under their control.

After several months of CGL, with Mrs. E explicitly connecting
their learning to cooperate with improvement of global
interrelationships in the future, not one student of the ten I
interviewed in February had an idea of how the world might be changed.
Robbie's observations from watching the news were that people were not
doing "too_gooo...there are a lot of wars still on..." I asked, "What
do you think's gonna change, then?" Robbie didn't know (Tr Int
2/24/89).

Student views about power as coercion diminished their hope for
possibility of achieving global cooperation as Mrs. E. saw it, in an
ideal form of understanding and accepting diversity, and working
together. Asbeid thought "There's probably a very slim chance" for
everyone in the world to cooperate. Josh predicted that their future
held "a lot of catastrophes" while Courtney pointed to lack of human
agency to take responsibility for problems, such as ecological concerns:

I don't know why people do things now, because that means
everyone will have to deal with it later. They could

help it now instead of later.
(Tr Int 2/24/89)

156

"We're all gonna' die!“ Courtney concluded. Her remark, although
presented in a flippant, apparently joking, style was followed by sounds
which more resembled sobs than laughs (Tr Int 2/24/89). April had found
the proposition of facing the future of the world as distasteful,
responding "Eeuuw"; she added, "we might have another war...maybe
more...” (Tr Int 2/24/89). Mun's understanding, from what was happening
in Southwest Asia, was that if it continued, "the whole world will be
involved in a war [in which] the world is almost like destroyed" (Tr Int
2/24/89). Michael also saw a bleak future in terms of what is happening
ecologically with "so many factories, the world could just die...'cuz
the ozone layer'd go away" (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Asbeid hoped that nations "would stop building nuclear warheads"
but had little confidence in countries with dictators: ”no matter how
much the people protest, they don't listen” (Tr Int 2/24/89). Student
portrayals of human nature consistently assumed a power paradigm, that
same schema which had interferred with their investing fully in
cooperative activity. Indicating that the more powerful will dominate
the less powerful, it would be very unlikely, Sivan pointed out, that
people would achieve cooperation in the world. He told me it would be
"hard to have wars stop" because "there's always a country that would
want something that another country has." Sivan figured that there
”probably might be some big wars" because ”there's lots of countries
that are not really trying to get better.”

Sivan thought it would take a very long time to resolve
differences, or change human responses. I asked him if he thought if
everyone was learning cooperation like he was in school, that might make

a difference. He said, "Ummm, maybe in a hundred or something years,

157

after people really learn it"; but even then, he concluded, "It would be
W!" (Tr Int 2/24/89).
The most poignant statement, from Ricardo, shakily voiced worries

that had been present since he was much younger:

Me and my friend Darin -- he's in Sioux Falls right now
-- and we've been friends ever since six, or five; and
we've been always worried about nuclear war and : so, you
know, we were always worried about that in the future,
and it hasn't come yet : and we hope it doesn't ever come

and I guess : : I hope the future's good and everything
and I hope there's no wars (voice becomes wobbly) or
anything.

(Tr Int 2/24/89)

These students' depictions of cooperation as a power issue, i.e.,
coercion and compliance, reflected a dominant paradigm in western
civilization for perceiving human relationships which Eisler (1987)
claims has existed for thousands of years. With such a view, students
showed no evidence of a sense of communal agency for accomplishing
change, something which Lanier and Sedlak (1989) claim is essential for
educating for the future. Even with Mun's one positive example of
countries cooperating, referring to Reagan and Gorbechov's Star Wars
agreements, it was in terms of what the looooto said, with no apparent
sense of underlying social action to influence those decisions (Tr Int
11/07/88).

The global understandings and previous experiences of c00peration
as "behaving" with strategies of withdrawal and giving in made it more
difficult for students to interpret co-operation in a more egalitarian
sense. Even when they did focus on obligations with each other, this
was often within a view of power hierarchy, in which students
interpreted fulfilling of obligations to each other as vehicles to

performing obligations to the teacher.

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STUDENT RESPONSES TO THE SOCIAL STRUCTURE

Even after some very successful cooperative activities marked the
culmination of the native American unit, students still judged group
cooperation according to criteria related first to the teacher and then
to peers. They worked ylth each other, but to; the teacher. Both Sivan
and Robbie cited being cooperative as first having the product finished
and looking nice; including everyone came only after meeting the
obligation to the teacher. Obligations to the teacher came first; to
peers, second (CD 12/6/88).

When I asked Joshua how he felt when the group had cooperated well,
having received very positive public recognition for his group's
contribution to the Indian unit, I expected him to talk about how
enjoyable the experience had been, how proud he felt. Instead, he
focused on the the work aspect:

Sometimes, you just feel, ”Oh, great, we did toot, but
now : now, we have to do something oloo, also -- now, we
have to tackle this nont thing."

(Tr Int ll/29/88)

Josh did not even mention how it felt to work with peers; he
concentrated instead on always having further obligations with the
teacher. With whom, or how he completed the work, it was still the same
issue: noto work when that got done.

Josh's comment about always having more to do, no matter what they
accomplished, showed how much the larger context of schooling influenced
this student's thinking about their groupwork. The constant pressure of

always having obligations to the higher authority in the form of more

159

work -- the name of the game with school -- had mitigated against his
feeling personal satisfaction or enjoyment with what he accomplished
with peers. An example of how this worked is the experience of Group One
students when they worked together to select several projects related to
the Southeast Indians. When they had reached consensus on several major
decisions, Robbie asked that they perform something which resembled a
ritual, to cement their agreement:

All right, we're done, we're done with this." He looked

up and suggested, "We'll place our little fingers against

here..." He placed his little finger against the desk,

with the corresponding finger from his other hand on it,

crossways, and waited for the others to put theirs on top

of his, thus making a formalized "pact."

(Fld 10/14/88)

The pact was never made and the students never sealed their
agreement, because Joshua, discovering a loophole, protested, “Wait
-- we still have to get some more, too...we have -- remember, we
have to make four." At this point the discussion reconvened as to
which group projects to select (Fld lO/l4/88). The group could not
make the pact among themselves; the obligations to the teacher had
a higher priority.

Josh had claimed that his group only really began to cooperate
when there was a time crunch and they hog to finish:

...We had a lotta' problems doing it...we got pressured,
but we had to get something -- that's when we started
getting done...it's just like, there was the last 2 days,
and it had : we had to get that done.

(Tr Int 11/29/88)

Mrs. E. verified this position, claiming that the students had
"snapped to, because I raised my voice -- they were reacting, to

nleose." She also felt that the fact that she was going to make them

write their parents that they wouldn't "be having them in, because they

160
w e ' ," had proven to be a strong motivation to get students to
finish. Her conclusion was "it either takes a carrot or a threat; they
love the praise, but it just doesn't catty ovet" (PC 12/13/88).

The students finished work because they "had to"; an unintended
consequence of the focus on completing work was that the teacher's
authority outside the group sometimes was invoked, without her assent,
as a filter for negotiation of differential rules within the group
interactions. Students could utilize CGL contexts to create mini or
sub-hierarchies, modeled on a traditional classroom structure. With an
in absentia teacher as a referent "law," the group could gang up on a
selected peer, forcing compliance with the threat to "tell the teacher.”

A prime example of this was Group Three's treatment of Willie one
day, as students were selecting projects to follow-up the murals
activity. Mrs. E. had explicitly given students the freedom to work
separately or in dyads, reminding students to ”keep to the task“ and
"come up with a product." Sivan and Michael decided to work together
and conspired with April to "trick" Willie into choosing first so
everyone else could then select something different and not have to work
with Willie.

Mi: Where is Willie?

Ap: I think he's outside

Mi: Let's just pick this, so he doesn't see it.

Ap: We've gotta' wait for Willie, so we can decide.
Here he comes, here he comes.

(Fld ll/l/88)

As Willie approached, a barrage of questions greeted him, and his
peers pressuring him to make a selection. Eight times, Michael and

April asked him what he wanted to do; then Sivan demanded "You have to

say first,” and April added, ”And then, you can't change." The rules of

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how to cooperate had been altered, with differential treatment for
Willie. For twenty minutes, the three members of Group Four worked on
excluding Willie. Refusing to share with him any information about the
project or their own interests, the new triumvirate focused on technical
issues revolving around the rules for selection. At one point, April
excitedly turned to Sivan, ”Coyot it!" Sivan assured her, "It lo
covered." Willie wanted to know his choices. He inquired what other
people were doing; the entire selection process for this group became a
series of guesses on Willie's part and evasive moves on his peers' and
civility broke down, with Willie's blaming them of lying. He realized
they were making differential rules, and resisted, "No, I don't. I
don't have to be first." Sivan told him, "We already decided." His
peers succeeded in getting Willie to comply, selecting something to do
alone, because Michael told him, "Willie, if you're not gonna' follow
the rules, we're not gonna' help you. You're oono." Sivan threatened
to go somewhere else to work, and Michael agreed, "let's work it without
him." Sivan instructed April not to even write down Willie on the list
of group members because ”he's not going to cooperate." Cooperation in
this case was defined as Willie's complicity in his own exclusion. The
other three had ganged up on him, with a final threat, "I'm gonna tell
on Willie, don't worry." They felt they were perfectly legitimate in
their stance, explaining to me later that he "bothered" them because "he
just copies and doesn't wanna do the work hisself. He wants to get off
easy."

Mrs. E.'s last exhortation to the groups before they met was ”All
members work to complete the task. If bickering or squabbling occurs,

I'm going to make this rule -- you'll go back and do individual work"

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(Fld 11/1/88). She had spoken to the group this particular day about
being "antsy" with the time constraints, and had spent more time talking
about rules -- new rules -- than the activities themselves. She had
tried to foresee all possible problems, giving students options to work
together if they selected the same project; She had exhorted them to
"make at least two choices" so they didn't ”have to fight over a
project." Mrs. E. had concentrated on avoiding conflict over technical
matters, so students could get make selections together and then get
right to work in the library. Her focus had been on rules, to avoid
students' focusing on rules; instead, the modeling had become the
students' focus in this group.1 And to further complicate students'
interpretations of obligations this particular day, the new rule of not
"bickering" had initiated further tension, with the need to figure out
what this was in terms of talking, and arguing, and how they might avoid
the negative consequences. Rights and obligations were less clear than
ever, and students, unsure of what was going to be acceptable to the
teacher, were also creating new rules. In the interest of avoiding
bickering and the teacher's punishment, students in Group Four had
argued more than ever.

Even when Mrs. E. did not explicitly refer to students' need for
avoidance of bickering, students, operating under time constraints,
still conspired to collectively exclude a peer. Group One excluded
Onochie, a Japanese child, during the storywriting unit. Soft-spoken,
petite, gentle, and amiable, Onochie was learning English as a second
language; she sat quietly, drawing while the others were talking. I had
noted the day before that Onochie was not being included in her group,

so I suggested that they let her write that day. Although the group

163
publicly acquiesced, as soon as I was not listening, Courtney, having
done all of the writing thus far, pointed out that there was no need for
Onochie to do this because she had already completed the story. ”You
guys," she said to Asbeid and Michael, ignoring Onochie, "what does she
[Onochie] have to write? You guys, we don't need to write the third
one, do we? The solution is already there."

Courtney turned to Onochie and said very slowly, emphasizing each
word, "Onochie, we don't need to write anymore." She then lowered her
voice and gulped, "Isn't that sa:dd!” Asbeid adopted a similar tone as
he reflected aloud about how Onochie might respond. ”Onochie's like..."
His voice lowered, and took on a slow, staccato rhythm similar to how
Onochie spoke English, "'Oh, boy, I'm gonna be the best writer in the
world. Chee! I can't write anymore.'" Asbeid, a generally jovial and
humorous child, had joined in the exclusion, imitating Onochie and
cruelly poking fun at her feelings (Fld 12/9/88). The group was
excluding this peer from what I, the teacher, had suggested.

This was unusual; students generally complied to obligations to the
teacher first, over obligations to each other. A statement of Asbeid's
during a storywriting unit class discussion cued me in to how students
might be viewing the teacher's authority during groupwork. Rather than
refer to the enjoyment element of groupwork, Asbeid cited cooperating as
"exercising self-control.” I thought this was a novel phrase, not
having surfaced in discussions or groupwork; it was also a rather formal
phrase from the jovial and jocular Asbeid, using the word oxercising,
rather than a more colloquial oolng. I found that the same phrase
appears on the elementary report card. The way students had chained

descriptors for cooperation during the class discussion bore an uncanny

164
resemblance to the order of desirable behaviors listed in a section of
the report card entitled "Personal and Social Growth.”
The following figures indicate the descriptors, in the order

presented, on the report card and the class discussion:

 

Figure 10
Listings on the Report Card
Social and Psychological Growth:

observes school and classroom rules
accepts constructive criticism
speaks and acts courteously
respects rights of others
cooperates with peers

cooperates with adults

exercises self-control

 

 

Figure 11
Student Metaphor for Cooperation
Cooperation means...
friendship
not fighting

exercise self-control
democracy

 

On the report card, cooperating appears between being courteous and
respectful and exercising self-control. The students had associated
friendship in CGL contexts with not fighting and exercising
self-control; the report card stated students should be courteous and
respectful to adults, which to many students was equivalent to being

cooperative as compliance, not fighting.

165

No one objected to Asbeid's idea of cooperation as exercising
self-control as strange, humorous, or inappropriate; the association may
have inadvertently opened a window to show educators how students
perceive notions of social/psychological "growth" as actions they have
to demonstrate to please the teacher, to get a "good" report, as part of
the "game-playing" that schooling has become, what Sedlak, Wheeler,
Cusick, and Pullin (1986) refer to as "proxies for learning." The
report card may have been a particularly powerful indicator that
cooperation is compliance, because it represented too hierarchies: one
in which they had to please the teacher to get a "good" report card, and
the other as the home to which students would present the report card to
please their parents.

Grubb and Lazerson (1982) discuss the issue of society's
considering schooling not only a responsibility to provide for each
child, but contradictorily, a place in which a child can get ahead. One
of the chief ways of doing so is by obtaining a good report card. The
report card may be not only a powerful influence on children's
interpretations of what schooling is all about, but also an influence on
their interpretations of cooperation. This form of evaluating children,
quite similar across districts, may be one more contradictory message to
contend with for the teacher who wants to teach cooperation as an
egalitarian structure.

This may also show why Asbeid and Courtney were so cruel to
Onochie, when they overtly cut her out and made fun of her wanting to
write. I suspect that this was a response to my use of authority,
making a decision within their group instead of having them decide how

to include their peer. They may have resented having to "exercise self

166
control"; and they resisted as soon as I left the scene. The cruel
treatment of their peer may have been a parallel of the theme of story
they were writing at that time. The ideas of complying and exercising
self-control had been presented ironically in Qotfield's Big Qiot. In
spite of Garfield's lower status, the cat had managed, by breaking
scales, fighting, and stealing, to turn the tables on the power
structure, to get what he wanted. A key to power issues is audacity:
what Maxine Greene (1990b) describes as 'recalcitrance (which) allows
people to tonono the power." In Garfield, the elements of the power
were reversed, so that the underling used the coercion, rather than Jon,
the dominant decision maker. Similarly, Courtney, Asbeid, and Michael
had coerced Onochie, reversing the power with me.

When I later asked two students from Group One, Courtney and
Asbeid, about the nature of resolution for their characters, they
concluded that there might not be resolution, i.e., the scale was never
fixed, the mess in the kitchen was never cleaned up, and Garfield didn't
make another sandwich, but "...that's how Jon and Garfield comics
close." As Courtney summarized contentedly, ”He's logy" (Tr Int
12/16/88).

This may be attractive to students, because there are times when
they would like not to have to mind the teacher or "do work." Joshua,
for example, felt he could not even enjoy the success his group
experienced in the Indian unit, because there was always more to do.
Garfield managed to eat what he wanted and got out of work. Students
may have identified with Garfield's resistance to "work,” and his

resistance to power structures and society's myths of how a person in a

167
hierarchy should act. He set his own rules. And so, unfortunately for

one student, did her peers.

SHUT-OUTS AND RULES FOR COMMUNICATIVE COMPETENCY IN CGL

Kids were able to set their own rules, partly because of the
ambiguity of the power structure.

Students had developed schemas about power which they applied to
CGL. Rather than seeing groupwork as a fundamental change in power in
the classroom, they instead viewed it as a “nice” version of traditional
power: a ”boon," a favor from the teacher. Chapter 4 contains examples
of students subverting academic assignments. This chapter also showed
how social subversion occurred. One rationale was that, although they
still were required to do work, CGL allowed them to do it in a way that
was more fun and easier (Fld CD, 10/14/88; 11/1/88). Courtney and April
referred to the social "pluses" as ”socializing" and "joking around"
(Fld CD 10/14/88; Tr Int 11/09/88).

Students had to balance the tension of wanting to talk and
socialize, to enjoy themselves while they worked, but also please the
teacher, completing the work on time. Caught in the dilemma of what
talking meant in this new learning context, several students'
exhortations against ”talking" in the November 1 class discussion
referred to this confusing aspect, deciding that a way to improve the

cooperation would be not to talk!

168

Mi: I think it's going good -- if we just didn't talk,
it'd be a lot more useful.

MS: If it's about the subject, I think we should include
that...

Ri: There is a little too much talking -- fooling
around...

Mg: I agree with Ricardo.

Rb: I : agree : have to agree more...

Js: I think we should not talk

Rb: Well, if you're talking about the project...

(Tr CD ll/l/88).

Previous experiences about what pleases teachers was not talking,
as off-task behavior or cheating on work; within the CGL context, this
understanding plus the ambiguity of rights and obligations left students
unclear about their roles in talking. Agreeing to limit oral
communication, the essence of group work, these students were focusing
on what they assumed to be cooperating with Mrs. E., rather than
listening to, sharing with, and helping each other. This made no sense
in terms of CGL, but a great deal of sense according to classroom
experiences based on a traditional power system (see Figure 3, Chapter
2), in which talking was what teachers instructed students not to do
during learning (Gilmore, 1986; Silberman, 1971).

Group One, on this premise, had on one occasion (described in
Chapter 4) drawn Mrs. E. into the decision making, leadership of the
discussion, and instruction of right answers. Students accepted the
rationale of cooperating by having the teacher provide the leadership.
Willie's description of how to "get back on track” when people in a
group were arguing had a similar focus. He suggested, I'you go and tell
the teacher and then after the teacher talks to us, we work much better"
(Tr Int 11/29/88). Willie claimed that students cooperated better
simply by being tolo by the adult to do so. He was not talking about

students cooperating with each other by listening to each other, sharing

169
ideas, accepting others' ideas, or working through differences through
communication; he was referring to a response to adult wishes not to
argue. This conclusion was made oftot the end of the Indian unit and
more than two months of group work experience.

The ambiguity of students' obligations to do work and corresponding
rights to comfort, enjoyment, and efficiency while working with peers
inadvertently contributed to the decisions to talk sometimes only with
selected peers. Assuming fun and efficiency during group work, some
students chose to work with peers or not work on them on the basis of
how fun they were. With humor as the key to fun, the flip side of this
reasoning was that the lack of humor as a communicative competency in
the group discussions became a mode of rationalizing gatekeeping and
subsequent exclusion. Thus, an unintended effect of viewing CGL as
"fun" was the exclusion of diverse peers on the basis of cultural
criteria for communicative competence. That was also one of the facets
originally contributing to Group One's exclusion of Onochie in the
storywriting unit, although the degree of coldness was a response to my
intervention of authority in the group's decision making power.

Everhart (1983) described high school students' use of humor as a
subtle form of resistance, in which students diverted attention away
from the teacher's academic agenda. In the fifth grade classroom that I
studied, students also used humor to resist, but this time the focus was
not only to avoid academic learning but also sometimes to subvert the
teacher's agenda for social learning. However, students did not
necessarily view this as resisting; focusing on efficiency of task
completion (the relationship with the teacher) and comfort in dealing

with peers (their own individual rights), what they were doing could

170
easily have seemed like compliance, to them. What they did with others
was a secondary aspect.

Just as resistance to academic learning was enacted as a concern
with technical aspects such as determining rules, social exclusion of
peers also had "rules." Based on communicative competencies which
facilitated efficiency and comfort, exclusion relieved students of the
discomfort of working through communication with diverse others and
sharing fully in the academic learning.

Group Three's exclusion of Lina during the Indian unit was partly
related to Lina's lack of humor. Lina, an olive-skinned child with
long, silky black hair and large, expressive eyes, was from Bangledesh
where, as her father explained to Mrs. E., "people speak little, but go
a lot," in contrast to the United States, where "people talk a lot, but
no little" (Int 10/24/88). When I asked Courtney why Lina had been so
consistently excluded from Group Three, Courtney cited Lina's strange
responses to humor, attributing the difference to psychological reasons,
rather than relating it to the fact that Lina might have perceived
things differently for cultural reasons:

...you can't tell about her personality. She usually,
when we laugh in groups -- I'm practically falling on the
floor - - and she's looking at me like I'm crazy. Lina,
um, Lina just smiles, and I think she : she seems nice,
but she's so different.

(Tr Int 11/7/88)

Lina's differences in responses to others' attempts to be "fun"
resulted in Courtney's image of her as a "mystery person." Courtney

felt she never knew what to expect with Lina; she might think she knew

what Lina was doing, but "you just can't tell" (Tr Int 11/7/88).

171

Erickson (1975) described gatekeeping in junior colleges based upon
"in-groupness” characteristics which made communication more
comfortable.3 Students also performed gatekeeping, requiring cultural
understanding of how to use humor for in-groupness. Courtney had
pointed out in a class discussion that joking around made people more
comfortable with each other during group interactions (Fld ll/l/88).
This was the reason she had become friends with Willie:

...in the fltot one, in the first time we did something
[in groups], I was with Willie and then I started making
friends with him...I thought he was really nloo, we can
loogh, joke an' all, and I started making friends with
7%: Int 11/7/88)

Just as she had excluded Lina for not responding to or with humor,
Courtney would accept a person who could use humor well, even if there
were other problems. In spite of her considering Saeed "mean,
sometimes,” Courtney enjoyed working with him because "we can laugh."
She said that although earlier he was a "slime," "now I find out he can
be funny" (Tr Int 11/7/88).

Using humor to make work more enjoyable, students manipulated not
only peer interactions but also interactions with the teacher. I
experienced this on the last day of the storywriting unit, when I
intervened after noticing that Group One was not including Onochie.
While her peers drew pictures of Garfield and company, Onochie sat
quietly, drawing a rabbit. I asked the group what Onochie could do to
be a part of the group.

When Onochie responded that she wanted to "do writing," Asbeid,

talking very fast, changed the subject, drawing my attention to a

cartoon in the Garfield book he was using as a model for their drawings:

172
"Mrs. Holloway, I found something really funny here." He read, "'Hey,
there's something in bed with me. Oh, it's you! Good morning, Belly.'"
I told Asbeid that was cute, but asked, "Are we avoiding the
conversation?" He grudgingly acknowledged, ”Yea, yea, we're trying to
um : trying to..." The intention had been to displace my attention with
humor so that students could avoid talking about their responsibilities
to include Onochie.

As an important competency, humor not only could contribute to
exclusion or avoidance; it could also be manipulated for lnoloolon. In
the storywriting unit, Willie used humor to gain entree to full
participation in his group. Willie, a Jamaican child of slight build
identified for his ”flat,” ”annoying" voice, had experienced many
rejections in the group he worked in during the Indian unit. The least
tolerated student of the entire class, Willie faced similar objections
when he first began to interact with peers in the newly-organized group.
As the four worked together to determine details of characters, roles,
and dialogue they would write, Mun alone made over three dozen negative
responses to Willie's actions and ideas in the first hour of
interaction. The following is one example, in which Mun comments on
Willie's suggestions for the story: as Willie created his fanciful
dialogue of the two fruit characters for their story, Mun responded with
groans indicating something distasteful. They got louder and louder,
until Mun finally shouted and Willie paused:

Wi: They were playing, they were playing with a ball,
then the ball went down...the street.

MS: [Eeuuu (groaned)

Wi: and then, the apple said, "I'll go get it, and the

MS: [eeuuu

Wi: banana said, 'I'll get it, I'll get it, No, I want to

MS: [eeeuuul (louder) NQQQQ!
(Tr Fld 12/7/88)

173

Over an hour into the session, Mun's responses to Willie suddenly
changed, as he not only validated a suggestion, but complimented Willie.
Willie was not only suggesting ideas; he was changing his voice
patterns, to represent what each character would say, as if he were in a
theatre production:

Wi: No. (switches voice into the character) 'Nooooo'
(switches to normal) They s...it's 'I want the
piece.’ (said in character) (switch to normal) And
it's gog food!" (laughter)

MS: Ok. (said as a laugh) Write that - it's funny!

Li: Yeaaa! (high voice) Hah! Yea!

Willie had managed to turn things around and open a space for
positive communication with his peers because, as Mun pointed out,
"Willie got otootlyo!" (Tr Fld 12/7/88). He had not only said funny
things; Willie had also subtly redefined the social context. For that
brief time, Willie spoke as the other characters, throwing his voice and
becoming Garfield and company. For the remainder of the storywriting
unit, Willie's peers validated him as an important contributor to the
story composition.

Mun's use of the word "creative" in this context implied humor.
Actually, Willie had been intellectually creative in previous group
interactions. The first day the whole class did CGL during science,
Willie's group flatly rejected all of his ideas, as they brainstormed to
create a list of natural resources. I noted that Willie's suggestions
of wildlife, then wilderness, were classes of resources, whereas the
others' contributions were random elements such as coal, diamonds, oil.
When Willie's peers ignored his ideas, he switched to doing what thoy

were doing, listing specific items instead of broad categories; still,

they rejected everything he said with a resounding "NO!" Finally,

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Willie endeavored to prove his contribution was relevant by using the
glossary of the science book; but Josh cut him off with ”So what?"
Ricardo included everyone's ideas but Willie's (Fld 9/19/88). Willie
had thought creatively, on two counts: one, to come up with broad
classes of resources; and then, to analyze quickly how his peers were
thinking, in terms of contributions, and find responses he thonght they
would accept. Still, his creativity was unappreciated, and his ideas
unacknowledged, although potentially they could have made the group work
easier and faster. Only in the task in which he entertained his peers
with humor and acting did peers fully accept Willie.

Student exclusions also focused on other communicative
competencies, such as directness of response. Oblique, hesitant, or
nonverbal responses sometimes left peers guessing. It was difficult to
talk with Lina, Courtney explained, because it was so different than the
customary direct expression of opinions from other peers. She did not
have to figure out what they wanted; they told her directly:

When I ask Megen, or Emily, or Hasaan, or someone, they
toll me exactly what they think and nothing-tot : : Well,
it's kind of like we : we : we goth differently [than
Lina] I mean, you know what I mean?

(Tr Int 11/7/88)

The peers that Courtney cited as more easy to work with did not
"beat around the bush.” Courtney's use of the phrase "nothing-but" was
part of a larger legal phrase asked of persons about to testify in a
court of law "to tell the truth and nothing_oot_tho_ttnth..." She knew
they would tell her their preferences. But Lina did not respond
predictably to direct lines of questioning, and therefore seemed

enigmatic to her peers. Mun, who on other occasions had tried to

encourage Moni's participation, still reported about her work in Group

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Three, "We were asking Moni, 'You want to do this? And this?‘ and she
would just go to her desk and do her report“ (Tr Int 11/7/88). If Moni
had not been included, her peers assumed it had been her choice.

During the storywriting unit, Asbeid and Courtney had shut out
Onochie from participation with a similar rationale. When I pointed out
that she was not being included, her peers had initially protested, "But
we asked..." (Tr 12/8/88). The assumption was that asking was
sufficient as an obligation to include peers. If there was no response,

the students attributed it to the individual's disengagement.

STUDENT TREATMENT OF CONFLICT

Toward the end of my classroom visits, students were more aware,
from class and interview discussions, of the theme of cooperation in
their group work. They began to talk explicitly in group situations
about what they were doing and the implications. Ironically, this did
not necessarily promote cooperation, as working through differences.
Instead, students' focus on conformity often resulted in a rejection of
conflict at any stage of group work. Some students became more
sensitive to arguments and more adamant about not wanting to be a party
to them, even procedural questions. Some began to leave, or withdraw
from the dialogue, in order to avoid conflict. This was true of Simon,
Courtney, and Joshua (indicated in Chapter 3); and Mrs. E. at that point
validated these responses as c00perative.

Mrs. E.'s reasons for disallowing certain kinds of conflict were
probably different from the students' -- the word olokotlng implied (to

me) unnecessary arguing, not a ban on all conflict. However, the

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students' understandings centered around possible effects of arguing:
teacher retaliation, punishment and shame, removal from the group and
its potential for fun. Perhaps the student who became the most troubled
about arguing was Willie. During the final storywriting unit, Willie
protested the arguing that was occurring between him and Mun:
Willie had gotten a piece of paper, and began to fold it,
to make sections for cartoon drawings. Mun and he began
to argue about the appropriateness of his doing this.
"Willie, wait. We don't know what we're doing yet," Mun
told him. Willie responded, "I'm just fold..." and Mun
interrupted, "Willie, you're wasting paper." "No, I'm
not,“ Willie insisted. "Yes, you are,“ Mun persisted.
(Fld 12/7/88)

Willie became unhappy with the arguing, pronouncing that it was not
cooperation. Lina, who previous to this situation had rarely spoken at
all in group interactions, was so uncomfortable with the arguing that
she also joined in to try to stop it. ”This is not cooperating," Willie
complained. "Stop arguing," Lina told them. Mun continued, "Willie,
you're just..." and Willie broke in, "Is thls cooperating?" "No," Mun
responded, "You're trying to go ahead."

Mun was defining cooperating as doing things together, i.e.,
simultaneously; and his protest was focused on Willie's going ahead and
working outside the group decisions. Yet, the fact that he protested
made the interactions seem like arguing, to both Willie and Lina, who
then defined the protest and subsequent discussion as not cooperating.

Willie began to get very upset, his voice change indicating the
level of concern:

"This : is i:isn't cooperooooting.“ Willie's voice shook.
Lina said, "Would you stop saying that?" "It ll;lsn' ,"

Willie said in a very high voice.
(Fld 12/7/88)

177

Willie's voice had increased in pitch during this interchange,
getting higher and higher, the more upset he was. In addition, his
voice shook, and his emphasis on the words became drawn out. These
changes would be relevant under any circumstances, but are particularly
so because Willie's usual pattern of speaking was radically different
from this high-pitched interlude. Mrs. E. had identified Willie's
speech as a ”monotone." On two occasions, she had noted to me that
Willie spoke in a "flat" tone that did not change, even when he was
arguing with someone. "Even if he's yelling," she said, “there's no
intonation pattern" (Int 10/21/88; Int 12/1/88).

There was an intonation change, this time, and the words were drawn
out, as Willie's voice rose higher and higher.

The switch to a high pitch and emphasis on the words would indicate
high concern and a level of emotional upset in any person. In Willie's
case, it was even more significant, as he had changed his basic way of
speaking, going from a flat monotone, to a pitch which grew higher and
higher as he spoke.

"We are not cooperating on this. We're not cooperating at all,
guys. We're arguing," Willie told his group. This concern about
arguing as uncooperative had resulted in arguing about the arguing. Not
only did this occur within the group, but it also included me.

I had heard Willie's comment and had explained to the group that it
was okay to argue some of the time, as long as they resolved it. He
responded, “We argue real long." I suggested that maybe that was a part
of how they learned to cooperate. But Willie still looked unhappy, so I
asked him, "Or do you not feel goon about that, Willie?" He responded

with a definitive "No" (Tr Fld 12/7/88).

178

Chapter 4 discussed how students had rebelled to my assignment of
including both conflict and cooperation together. Although they were
able to develop a conflict section better, due to more familiarity with
that part of the process, they did not feel it belonged in an assignment
about cooperation. Because of the discussions about cooperation which I
held each day previous to group work during the storywriting unit, all
of the students became particularly sensitive to anything which might
appear unc00perative. As they saw arguing as the antithesis of
cooperation, they were particularly watchful for signs of this. A week
after the unit had ended, during a class discussion with Mrs. E. Asbeid
reported that Group One's participation in the storywriting unit had had
some “bumpy roads." That phrase indicated how arguing felt:

First, we went smooth; then the road got pretty bumpy --
we argued over something -- like what should we put in
for cartoons; sometimes, almost we fonght.

(Fld CD 12/15/88)

It was uncomfortable to Asbeid when his group was not cooperating
during parts of the interactions; when they did, everything went
"smooth.” Ricardo, from another group, also reported feeling
uncomfortable, even ototoy, when he and his peers argued. He spoke of
Group Two as having "worked it out, sorta'," but reported that "in the
middle, we got a little bit crabby" (Tr CD 12/15/88). Roget offers two
synonyms for otoooy: grouchy and discontented. That is the type of
discomfort Ricardo perceived when arguing during CGL; it was
unacceptable, an unpleasantry, something to avoid. This could of course
be true on the intrapersonal level, when a person would like to have

their own way. However, I feel it was heightened because it also

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related to issues of power and students' perceptions of relationships

with and expectations from the supervising adult.

CONCLUSION

Greene (1988, p. 22) describes education ideally as a "process of
futuring, of releasing persons to be different.” I noted about two
weeks into the Indian unit, that students had begun to reorient
themselves to be more aware of peers, and their responsibilities to each
other. Yet, by the end of the unit, students had returned to ideas
about cooperation that focused on compliance with the teacher. Mrs. E.
had become less tolerant to conflict, in response to her own needs from
a changing teaching context, and students had returned to their original
interpretations about cooperation as behaving and not arguing.

Students had originally cited the possibility of creating new
friendships through working cooperatively in groups; yet, in the final
groupwork I observed, the attitudes about friendship were mixed, with
some students being very non-accepting of selected peers. In addition,
the stories they constructed did not interpret friendship as an element
of cooperation. Even when the issue was not diversity and the two
characters literally looked identical, the actions in the stories were
not empathic responses. Neither were students' responses to each other
within certain groups contexts. The lack of perceived possibility of
changing the power structure filtered into each response, creating a
situation in which students did not optimally learn to understand and
accept each other, but instead selectively excluded peers and became at

times, themselves, authority figures and oppressors.

180

Students' responses to CGL were based upon implicit assumptions
about power as hierarchical structures, identified from experiences in
the home, in the bureaucratic structure of schooling, in our democratic
society, and between nations. Although students did have many positive
experiences with cooperation during CGL, their continuing interpretation
of cooperation as compliance also led to responses to peers which were
not receptive. Even if students had all experiences which appeared
positive, if they continued to focus on cooperating with the teacher,
rather than with peers, then schooling would not necessarily enhance the
possibility for reconstruction of relationships which are more

democratic in the future.

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NOTES

1 This is the only group I observed at this time; I do not think,
however, that this "bickering" occurred in all of the groups. It is
one example of unintended consequences of even the best-laid plans of
a teacher for group work.

2 An idea from only one student, with implicit agreement from others in
the class discussion, does not make a conclusive argument; rather,
this is offered as an area for further exploration on the various
factors contributing to situations in which students' choices focus
on finishing the work and pleasing the teacher, rather than
developing a learning community with peers.

3 I realized later that I also responded to humor, like the students
did, avoiding conversations (personal interviews) with those students
who were difficult to talk with and cultivating interviews with those
who had the greatest communicative competencies for speaking English
with an adult. The students I spent the most time with quipped and
joked about various situations; they seemed ”enjoyable" to work with.

Chapter 6
STANDARDIZATION AND POWER, ROLE DILEMMAS,

AND THE RIPPLE EFFECT IN TEACHING/LEARNING COOPERATION:
CGL AS THE POTENTIAL WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING?

In this final chapter, I begin with a short vignette to highlight
the contradictions which Mrs. E. experienced in her role as a teacher:
Mrs. E. had stayed late one September evening to prepare
the classroom for Parent Night. Describing all the work
she had accomplished, Mrs. E. commented, ”It's amazing,
what you can do when the kids aren't here!"
(Int 9/29/88)
What had influenced the thinking of this teacher who called herself
a "student-pleaser," who prized interactions with students, to interpret
the success of her role as teacher, in this situation, as divorced from
the students? This incident was something every teacher could
experience, whether or not they adopt an "adventuresome" attitude toward
teaching; it was one of "the many pulls of teaching" Mrs. E. talked
about. The story becomes even more complicated, as we can see from Mrs.
E.'s experiences, when the teacher attempts to teach a non-traditional
approach.
This chapter draws upon stories of Mrs. E. and the students in her
fifth grade classroom to extract understandings which might help
teachers, administrators and policy makers, and teacher educators to

better understand some of the dilemmas as we encourage the

implementation of non-traditional practices in the public schools.

182

183
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE 'DELIGHTFUL ADVENTURE'? HOW STANDARDIZATION OF
THE CURRICULUM AFFECTED CGL IN MRS. E.'S CLASSROOM

Student responses to CGL had sometimes been development of
intentional learning as well as new friendships; other times, students
had bargained to limit academic engagement and had excluded peers from
the social construction, limiting access to learning. In spite of the
non-traditional teaching and learning, and the CGL structure that Mrs.
E. intended to be "liberating," kids had sometimes disengaged.

The district policy reform to standardize the curriculum was one
more burden to Mrs. E., whose actual classroom practice was already
laden with the day to day realities of uncertainty, mandates, cliques
and in-fighting among students, and the expectations of parents and this
particular school community. In addition, the students had brought
interpretations of cooperation as compliance, derived from previous in-
and out-of school experiences and global understandings, which countered
ideal conceptions of cooperation.

On the day of culminating presentations for the native American
unit, students were, as Mrs. E. described, very "high." In their
excitement from the positive feedback and dialogue with visitors,
students were not just presenting what they had learned during the
previous seven weeks. The progression of presentations indicated that a
great deal of learning was taking place that day, as they listened to
each other, and picked up new details. Students were generating various
new theories, as they talked to others. Some of the most exciting
thinking occurred in the culminating activity, borne of the delight of
sharing and the dialogue with visitors. The project blossomed the final

day, as the students' conceptual excitement grew.

184

Mrs. E. noticed this. At the end of the first presentation, she
told students, "I'm imptessed, how much you've learned. You've really
done a good job." By the end of the fourth one, she noted that the
presentations had grown. She told the other teacher present, "I set
this up for a 15 minute presentation -- and this took 45 minutes. I'm
very proud of that. Means they know a lot more than I thought.“ Later,
Mrs. E. told the students she had noticed "how well you picked up from
others. So you're learning from each other," she concluded (Fld
11/18/88).

Mrs. E. had also noticed that students were "inventing things,"
picking up knowledge from each other and then ozoonolng it during those
presentations, constructing new meanings and generating new theories,
going beyond the "facts" about how native Americans had lived to how
they had made sense out of the world. The opportunity to grow was
enhanced, not only through group peer interaction, but also by the
presence of the visitors, who shared ideas. With the foundational
learning established, many students were making conceptual leaps; the
context had become a "learning community" at the culmination of the
project, in every sense of the word, with students in other classrooms
and parents also generating ideas and interacting with the fifth
graders. One conversation which illustrates how students grew from the
interactions with visitors occurred during the lunch hour as Megen
accompanied her parents, along with Courtney, around the room. At the
Southwest display area, the group paused to discuss a report on kachina
dolls, and Courtney expanded on the writing:

[Courtney said,] "Everyone was angry with each other, but

then the god came down from a mountain and they smoked a
peace pipe and then everything was okay."

185

Megen suggested, "Tell 'em about how they put the
snakes," and Courtney responded, "There was a dance,
where they had snakes on their heads and it would never
bite. Sometimes, they'd put them through here, (she
pointed to her chest) and dance 'til they ripped apart."
(Fld 11/18/88)

This conversation provoked Courtney's curiosity. "Why," she asked,
"didn't the snakes bite them?" And responding to her own question, she
theorized, "Maybe they could talk with them." Megen's mother, who was
carrying a small infant in a gerry carrier attached to her body in a
style adapted from native American child-rearing customs, suggested,
"Maybe when they danced, they moved -- like a baby, they'd be
hypnotized!" Courtney had appeared very impressed with this answer.
Observing the tiny child, peacefully slumbering in response to the
mother's swaying body, seemed to corroborate such a possibility, and
Courtney had enthusiastically validated this theory, "Yeah!"

In a later presentation, Megen added information as she talked
about how native Americans carried things. She told her audience that
women, dogs, and horses would carry things, adding, "Dogs would also
have a harness -- almost like a sling." The baby carrier was built
somewhat like a sling, and it seemed that the presence of this entirely
silent and oblivious observer had, together with the conversation with
her mother, heightened her awareness of other aspects of Indian life
that she had not previously referred to, aspects made more "real" by the
connections with her own lived experience, now brought into the
classroom. Courtney also added more information about the kachinas that
next time, not about snakes, but about the fact that kachinas were the

"spiritual people, that aren't really alive, a legend..." The fact that

she talked about kachinas as "legend" for the first time after the

186
discussion with Megen and her parents indicated she had accepted the
theory about snake dancing as something based on real life situations,
and had contrasted that with the idea that a god came down from a
mountain and smoked a peace pipe.

Students had expanded their understandings with each presentation;
not only did they draw upon what others said, but they added new
information, elaborating the stories for their visitors, presenting a
more complete picture. Students began the presentations by simply
identifying objects; Sivan told the audience, "This is a totem pole.
This is a potlatch. It would open up...they had lots of mountains.”
Michael added, ”And canoes." In the original presentations students
focused on "credits” for the displays: Asbeid told visitors, "Some of
the things, we made. Some, we found, and some, we made.” In later
presentations, students focused less on the display itself, and more on
the stories behind the artifacts. Where at first, Group One
participants identified objects, later they elaborated, telling not only
that an object was pottery, but how the Indians none it; "Got it wet, so
it was easier to shape." Asbeid had also elaborated, at first
identifying an object as fur, later adding information about function:
it was "a design of fur, and it was traded." This was a new idea,
possibly constructed from previous reading about settlers' fur trading
with the Indians. After expressing his new idea, Asbeid paused for a
moment, and to confirm, added, ”Yeah, traded.” Others began to expand;
Ricardo picked up a ceramic hotplate with a Navajo design, and said,
"This is a picture -- or plaque -- of a Navajo blanket" (Fld 11/18/88).

At this point, students were becoming curious, thinking, taking risks,

187
creating new ideas; in the process, "making things up," as Mrs. E.
noted.

Some of it was accurate, and some not; students had just developed
these new ideas at the end of the unit. To my knowledge, none followed
up with further research to validate their ideas. Just as they had
begun to really ask their own questions and generate theories, the unit
was over. Thakur (1990) describes the evolving paradigm for education,
from a psychotherapist perspective, as a ”delightful adventure,“ seeking
to "reestablish the passion for knowing and learning." During the next
two weeks of school, time constraints and Mrs. E.'s need to cover the
social studies text took precedence, and I did not hear any more
discussions about native Americans. Although it was the culmination,
the experience might have been the beginning of many students'
development of intentional learning about native Americans. Ironically,
just when many students could have "taken off" and continued the
learning, now a "delightful adventure" with their own choices and
motivations, they did not do so because they had to ”move on" to cover
other topics. Mrs. E.'s need to meet the agenda of the standardized
curriculum mitigated against students' following their own excitement,
checking their own theories, researching to answer their own questions,
generated by the interactive culminating reports.

The district curricular requirements had inhibited the expansion of
student academic learning. In addition, it had negatively affected the
teaching experience. David Cohen (1988) explains that teachers avoid
adventuresome teaching, in the attempt to reduce the uncertainties.

Mrs. E. did not attempt to avoid the complexity by cancelling the native

American unit and returning to a more traditional mode. Whatever the

188
influences beyond Mrs. E.'s immediate control, she was not swept up in
the vortex of the standardization movement. Retaining the agency to
make adaptations and decisions in her teaching, she selectively amended,
abridged, and cut, continuing to retain the essence of her curriculum,
her personal contribution to the students.

Teaching remained a personal enterprise. Just as Mrs. E. had not
previously capitulated when pressured to paddle children, so she
continued to do what she felt was best for children, in this fifth grade
context, retaining CGL and the native American unit. Her adjustments
were not indiscriminate; for example, while she could have skipped the
entire filmstrip on the electoral college, instead she carefully
selected which portions to retain. Mrs. E.'s response to the increased
complexity of her curricular responsibilities was holistic, including
even the environment. When she felt "cluttered," with too much to do in
too little time, she removed furniture to allow more "space,” just as
she had removed viewing a section of the filmstrip. Mrs. E. retained
control of her destiny, but at a much greater effort and higher level of
stress.

Standardization from the district level is a top-down approach,
which is subject at the classroom level to teacher interpretation and
alteration, potential adaptation or even sabotage. Schooling is
"loosely coupled,” which means that the administrators who make
curricular decisions do not necessarily have control over how it gets
implemented in the classrooms; teachers have a great deal of leeway in
what they do with a curriculum (Meyer & Rowan, 1978). In Mrs. E.'s
case, the "loose coupling" allowed her to add goals beyond district

mandates.

189

Marilyn Cohn (1990), lamenting case studies of teachers as
"victims," spoke of the need for more hopeful studies of teachers who
still 'make exciting professional decisions" and have surmounted the
problem of unreasonable district demands. Such a portrait could portray
loose coupling as a loophole which liberates "good" teachers to do it
all: meet the needs generated by standardized testing and required
curricula, and yet adapt and expand the curriculum to meet more
contextual, personal goals.

While Mrs. E.'s example could lend hope to teachers, to interpret
classroom autonomy as the "solution" to problems of teaching practice
can detract from the primary source of the problems which is outside the
teachers' decision making powers. While it is true that some teachers
can take advantage of their ”street level” operational freedom, to
improve their lived situation, I would caution against romanticizing
about loose coupling and the isolation of the classroom as structural
aspects which can ”empower" teachers.

That ray of hope led to Mrs. E.'s attempt to do more than there was
time for. Shanks (1990, p. 16) found that elementary teachers in a
standardization of curriculum in a Midwestern school responded similarly
to Mrs. E.'s attempts to "do it all," calling the effect an
"intensification of teacher's work." As teachers tried to both cover
and extend the curriculum, a time press resulted in a focus on finishing
work.

The cycles of reform of schooling each create their own problems
(Cohen & Neufeld, 1982). Top-down mandates exist as a bureaucratic
response to the lack of standards resulting from an "entrepreneurial"

approach for a privatized teacher-produced curricula (Cusick, 1983).

190

Marilyn Cohn (1990), lamenting case studies of teachers as
"victims," spoke of the need for more hopeful studies of teachers who
still ”make exciting professional decisions" and have surmounted the
problem of unreasonable district demands. Such a portrait could portray
loose coupling as a loophole which liberates "good" teachers to do it
all: meet the needs generated by standardized testing and required
curricula, and yet adapt and expand the curriculum to meet more
contextual, personal goals.

While Mrs. E.'s example could lend hope to teachers, to interpret
classroom autonomy as the "solution" to problems of teaching practice
can detract from the primary source of the problems which is outside the
teachers' decision making powers. While it is true that some teachers
can take advantage of their "street level" operational freedom, to
improve their lived situation, I would caution against romanticizing
about loose coupling and the isolation of the classroom as structural
aspects which can "empower" teachers.

That ray of hope led to Mrs. E.'s attempt to do more than there was
time for. Shanks (1990, p. 16) found that elementary teachers in a
standardization of curriculum in a Midwestern school responded similarly
to Mrs. E.'s attempts to "do it all," calling the effect an
"intensification of teacher's work." As teachers tried to both cover
and extend the curriculum, a time press resulted in a focus on finishing
work.

The cycles of reform of schooling each create their own problems
(Cohen & Neufeld, 1981). Top-down mandates exist as a bureaucratic
response to the lack of standards resulting from an "entrepreneurial"

approach for a privatized teacher-produced curricula (Cusick, 1983).

191

This implies the need for more teacher autonomy in planning and
implementing curriculum and a reassessment of the assumption that
"covering" a text is equivalent to construction of an excellent
curriculum, or, alternatively, that ”consistency” as covering identical
material is the goal for educating children.

Tied to concerns about curriculum construction is the issue of
evaluation. The very definition of curriculum as standardizing toxt not
only ties teachers to coverage of certain material; it also implies that
learning is a product with end points which are identifiable and
assessed as tangible responses. Mrs. E. had noted the tremendous growth
happening during the presentations, and was aware of the generation of
student interest. Under the paradigm of learning as a product, she
spoke in terms of how much students had learned from each other, rather
than seeing an opportunity to seize on student excitement and let them
choose whether or not to continue with the studies.

What if there were no pressure to cover a specified amount and
nature of material? It is difficult to change from a traditional mode
of approaching education. We must, to do so, also consider the
question: is learning a process, a construction of knowledge, or is it a

product, finished when something tangible is produced?

CONFLICT IN CGL: SHIFTING PARADIGMS FROM TRADITIONAL TO NON-TRADITIONAL
TEACHING AND LEARNING

As they grappled with conflict, Mrs. E. and her students also faced
problems in dealing with the paradigm shift that underlies how they made
sense out of the face-to-face interactions in the classroom. Although

Mrs. E. thought it was important for students to work through

192
resolution, time was also a concern, and it takes more time to work
through differences. The most expedient solution was for her to resolve
the problem. One way she could resolve differences was by making the
decision for the students, which is what she did in with Group One's
impasse (see Chapter 4).

Another tactic she tried was creating negative sanctions for
"bickering,” to heighten students' awareness about her expectations, and
to discourage misbehavior with an explicit description of the
consequences. Mrs. E. also attempted to avoid arguing, by carefully
planning all kinds of options for a specific lesson, such as asking
students to select more than one idea for projects or providing options
for working alone or together on certain projects which later would be
integrated into the final presentations (Fld 11/1/88).

In spite of various attempts to mitigate against conflict, it still
occurred; and both Mrs. E. and many students, when under time
constraints, tried to resolve conflict by relying upon old, familiar
paradigms of teaching practice which focused on the responsibility of
the individual to change, rather than group responsibility to work
through differences and compromise. By the end of the research period,
Mrs. E. began to recommend isolation to resolve problems, while some
students chose to withdraw.

As she reflected on various group interactions, Mrs. E. had
considered multiple influences such as personality, maturation, group
dynamics. Courtney, for example, might look older but really was "very
young." This group was "young developmentally -- not sophisticated"
(Int 11/7/88; Tr Int 11/17/88; Int 11/29/88). Caring, informed,

reflective, Mrs. E. was aware of individual stories, family influences,

193
episodes between students, and students' "wanting to please the teacher"
(Int 11/1/88). She took into account different cultural experiences,
understanding that a child from Israel, for example, might be "skeptical
about people being able to cooperate and change" (Tr Int 11/17/88).

Although Mrs. E. was aware of many tensions and multiple influences
in teaching and learning cooperation, she still most frequently made
sense of the students' interactions in terms of behavioral psychology.
She noted that "Some people are stronger than others. They want things
tnolt way” and "Some people don't get along well. They don't enjoy each
other" (Fld 10/21/88; Int 11/1/88). She told me one student, "gets you
going," and then would "push you right against the wall." Another, she
reported, had an ”I wanna' be on top" attitude; while a third ”had his
problems too" and if he had someone to kick, he would (Int 9/29/88,
10/21/88; Tr Int 11/17/88, Tr Int 2/24/89). Defining situations of
conflict between students as "having too many bosses," Mrs. E. cautioned
them not to "tako ovoz"; to "oonttlonto, but not oomlnoto” (Fld
11/3/88). She advised students to "move on" from conflict and make
decisions together.

One of the factors which had appealed to me in conducting this
study was that it could provide a rare window on a teacher who was
willing to risk the existence of conflict between students because she
felt it was important for them to learn to resolve differences. Yet,
what I found was students were working to oyolo conflict, based on the
perceived need to please the adult and an understanding of cooperation
as not arguing and not fighting, rather than resolution through peer

dialogue.

194

When students talked about ”bosses," their interpretation of
appropriate responses was different than Mrs. E.'s. Referring to
Courtney's relationship with them during the Indian unit as "like boss
and slave!" Mun and Ricardo reported, ”She wanted to nake up everything
and make no do the work!" Ricardo's solution was not mutual decisions;
instead, he "didn't listen” and learned to ”say 'no' and walk away" (Tr
Int 11/29/88). Ricardo's perceived options to resolution of peer
conflict were based on a power paradigm of inequality: he could comply
or withdraw. To "bicker" after November 1 was to invite isolation
anyway.

We can understand Mrs. E.'s decision to intervene to help students
to resolve conflict by examining premises of behavioral psychology which
assumes responsibility of the individual to change, to accommodate the
group, and the medical model of teaching which assumes the need to heal
individual pathology (Gartner & Lipsky, 1987). While both Mrs. E. and
the students supported withdrawal, they had very different reasons. She
was not encouraging students to avoid the problem, but rather to heal
themselves and their bad feelings. Her role was not a power figure, but
a facilitator who provided needed "time out" for the student(s) with the
problem. This would allow the individual time to "cool off," thus
"resolving" the conflict. Mrs. E.'s changed interpretation of what
"works“ to resolve peer conflict in CGL made sense to the students, who
had already learned from previous experiences to avoid arguing and "make
peace" by evasion and covering up of the problem.

Mrs. E.'s later decision to put a halt to the "bickering"
represented a stance compatible with the traditional view of "discipline

and order” in schools, and research supported her. Teacher educator E.

195
Cohen (1986) recommends avoidance of conflict; Cusick (1983) describes
how administrators insist on it, to appease the public. Yet, there is a
need for students to learn to work through conflict and resolve
differences (Lanier & Sedlak, 1989; Oser, 1986; Resnick, 1987).

Mrs. E.'s decisions and assumptions about teaching cooperation as
resolution of conflict exposed the problem of paradigm shift which
underlies the attempt to move from traditional to non-traditional
teaching in which she was layering a paradigm of communal responsibility
for action upon a previous notion of individual responsibility for
resolving problems. Putting the responsibility on the individual to
change is problematic when applied to CGL, which assumes that learning
to be a social, interactive process.

Mrs. E. and the students were caught in a tangle of sometimes
disparate paradigms. Although Mrs. E. intended to liberate students and
give up control, her lived situation of having the control and being
responsible for using it made altering the power structure problematic.

In December, Mrs. E. concluded that removal from the social group
would "help" the individual who was cut off from interactions with
others, allowing time to "get it together.” She called it "time out," a
popular school euphemism for ending conflict or other problem behaviors
by banning a selected participant from the interactions. Goffman (1961)
describes a similar rationale for solitary confinement used by
psychiatrists in asylums:

The punishment of being sent to a worse ward is described
as transferring a patient to a ward whose arrangements he
can cope with, and the isolation cell or 'hole' is
described as a place where the patient will be able to
feel comfortable with his inability to handle his

acting-out impulses...Reward for good behavior by
progressively increasing rights to attend socials may be

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described as psychiatric control over the dosage and
timing of social exposure. (p. 381)

This rationalization also exists in the schools, with the belief that
removing kids will "relieve" them.2 Mrs. E. told the students,

You will continue to have conflicts. I may ask you to

take a walk around the hall. Not for punishment -- it's

a matter of rethinking of how you can work better with

the group -- and hopefully, you will have resolved some

of the feelings you have.

(CD 12/15/88)

Mrs. E. felt that if students got "out of the situation for a
while, it's much better." To leave the group allowed the individual the
opportunity to "defuse the situation." She concluded that sometimes
they needed to "get away from people, not a punishment, just giving you
choices..." (CD 12/15/88).

Mixing the paradigms of behaviorism with social interactionalism,
Mrs. E. construed that taking away all interactional choice was giving
choices that would improve the group work. She provided an example of
how this resolution of conflict worked when she taught kindergarten and
all of the children wanted to use the climber that would accommodate
only four persons at a time. "We would walk and talk -- they'd take my
hand," Mrs. E. recounted to her fifth graders, and the youngsters would
"calm down” (Fld 12/15/88). Mrs. E.'s resolution of conflict with
younger students had required isolation from peers; but the "time out"
for the kindergartner was also a treat -- private time with the teacher.
Yet, when she talked about isolating fifth graders, it was in the
context of leaving the room to be alone.

Mrs. E.'s conception that involuntary withdrawal was a helpful and

calming way to resolve differences was radically different from the

students' notion of what worked. Their stories were about staying

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together to help each other. Ricardo and Mun felt that when people
would fight and get upset, a friend could mediate the social context and
"calm 'em.” Ricardo concluded, "Everybody stops the fights, somehow --
that's how you get your senses back" (Tr Int 11/29/88).

The effect of Mrs. E.'s threat to remove students from the group
was that some students became more concerned about avoidance of
isolation as punishment than working positively on sharing and resolving
ideas with peers. Willie allowed himself to be excluded from the group,
even though he was aware that they were making differential rules and he
did not have to follow them; he was in a ”catch-22." Because Mrs. E.
had created the new rule that day, with threat of removal from the group
for "bickering," he could be isolated either way: by his coercive peers,
or by the teacher. His way out was to ”fake it" and pretend it was of
his own volition to work alone, thus avoiding the shame of being sent
out by the teacher, who would inadvertently have validated the others'
judgment that Willie should work alone. Not chancing the teacher's
being implicated, Willie could still lodge a verbal protest, even if he
complied in action.

Ironically, while Mrs. E. instituted isolation in order to hold
individuals responsible, students sometimes managed to turn this
particular mode of conflict management around and to use it for their
own gain, limiting academic engagement and/or interactions with peers.
Although isolation was not their preferred mode for resolving problems,
it was familiar, and it made sense to students' conceptions of inequal
power. The students accepted it as appropriate, but responded in

various ways.

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Isolation thus sometimes became a way to get out of work, to avoid
contributing to the group. Courtney isolated herself to protest the
fact that others would not let her control -- a reversal of Willie's
situation, in that her peers lost either way. If they did not let her
take charge, they did not get her help; if they did, they were accepting
a ”boss-slave" relationship. Either way, the possibility of withdrawal
could absolve the "strong” individual from working out differences.

In CGL, isolation of individuals from the group was problematic, not
only on theoretical grounds, because it altered the social structure and
composition of the group and removed the possibility of and
responsibility for dialogue; it also was an occasion for a counter-move
of student resistance to academic and social learning.

That incipient problem of determining individual vs. social
responsibility also related to student learning. Although CGL involves
social responsibility for a lesson, Mrs. E. concluded in February that
she needed to back-up the assignments with ”individual follow-up.” The
paradigms under which she operated, as a teacher, assumed a power
arrangement of superiors mandating accountability for curricular
coverage. As Mrs. E. experienced pressure to "cover" the text, she
reverted to a similar power paradigm that depicted teachers holding
children accountable to certain standards of work, assuming that the
kids also "need to be held responsible" (Int 2/24/89).

Mrs. E.'s experiences demonstrate the tension between
responsibility for individual learning and social learning in
non-traditional teaching and learning, and the problem of the teacher's
status and lack of decision making power within the larger bureaucracy

of schooling. Educators, policy makers, and administrators face many

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challenges: how can teaching roles best be redefined in the larger
structure of schooling, so that teachers may restructure in the
classroom their and students' roles, rights and obligations; what
alternatives and possibilities can they identify to accommodate

differing paradigms of individual and social responsibility?

DILEMMAS IN THE TEACHER'S ROLE IN CGL: BEING LEFT OUT OF THE “FUN" AND
SITTING BY THE SIDELINES DURING CONFLICT

Mrs. E. constantly grappled with what her role was in teaching CGL.
In consonance with Lortie's (1970) finding that teachers rely heavily on
psychic rewards, it was important to her to be "liked." She wanted to
"please” kids and make life more pleasant as they took on the "hard"
work of school. Highly involved, she diligently compiled different sets
of packets for each group, collected dozens of books for student use
during the Indian unit, contacted various agencies to borrow artifacts,
communicated with the public and other classroom teachers, read to
increase her own understanding, and erected a life-sized tent in the
center of the room for the culminating activities. Committed to
teaching CGL, Mrs. E. told parents, "I lnolot that they work in groups"
(Fld 11/18/88).

Mrs. E. used CGL to enable social development and enjoyment while
students worked on academic projects. And yet, ironically, to use CGL
was by definition, to leave the teacher out of most of the interactions.
Heidegger (1968, p. 15) might have approved, reminding us that the
teacher "...has to learn to let them [the students] learn." But getting
out of the way creates its own dilemmas for the teacher who sincerely

enjoys kids and is involved in the new learning, herself. In Mrs. E.'s

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challenges: how can teaching roles best be redefined in the larger
structure of schooling, so that teachers may restructure in the
classroom their and students' roles, rights and obligations; what
alternatives and possibilities can they identify to accommodate

differing paradigms of individual and social responsibility?

DILEMMAS IN THE TEACHER'S ROLE IN CGL: BEING LEFT OUT OF THE "FUN" AND
SITTING BY THE SIDELINES DURING CONFLICT

Mrs. E. constantly grappled with what her role was in teaching CGL.
In consonance with Lortie's (1975) finding that teachers rely heavily on
psychic rewards, it was important to her to be "liked.“ She wanted to
"please" kids and make life more pleasant as they took on the "hard"
work of school. Highly involved, she diligently compiled different sets
of packets for each group, collected dozens of books for student use
during the Indian unit, contacted various agencies to borrow artifacts,
communicated with the public and other classroom teachers, read to
increase her own understanding, and erected a life-sized tent in the
center of the room for the culminating activities. Committed to
teaching CGL, Mrs. E. told parents, "I lnolot that they work in groups"
(Fld ll/18/88).

Mrs. E. used CGL to enable social development and enjoyment while
students worked on academic projects. And yet, ironically, to use CGL
was by definition, to leave the teacher out of most of the interactions.
Heidegger (1968, p. 15) might have approved, reminding us that the
teacher "...has to learn to let them [the students] learn." But getting
out of the way creates its own dilemmas for the teacher who sincerely

enjoys kids and is involved in the new learning, herself. In Mrs. E.'s

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students can help teachers to access the students' sense making of “what
happened” in their CGL experiences. I discuss this further below, with
considerations of transferability of understandings of cooperation from

group experiences to other contexts.

FUTURE STUDIES: STATUS, POWER, AND COMMUNICATIVE COMPETENCE IN CGL

In addition to tangles in her roles which the teacher had to
interpret in various contexts, the students also needed to interpret her
role. In this fifth grade classroom, the issues of status as a
determinant for peer inclusion or exclusion was not simply between or
among peers, but also between student and teacher. The power of the
teacher was the highest status of all, and although there were instances
of resistance, this was the most "static" status characteristic of this
classroom which influenced peer interactions.

According to Berger, Cohen, and Zelditch (1966, 1972), people
organize interactions around characteristics which derive from their
status. They call this Expectation States Theory. Cohen (1986, 1987)
described race, ethnicity, and academic achievement as characteristics,
or status generalizations, which are commonly used by students as
criteria for including or excluding peers in group interactions. In
CGL, one undesirable effect could be shutting out those students who
have already been socio-cultural pariahs of the educational system;
another could be social conflict between students of different races,
cultures, and/or social classes. The problems of peer exclusion during
CGL in the fifth grade classroom I studied was not confined to issues of

peer status; the relationship with the teacher was crucial to how

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students interpreted their own obligations and rights, including with
peers. These students' experiences were fundamentally related to the
power structure, with conceptions derived from multiple sources of
experiences, many of which were outside the classroom. This study
raises the question: Is it possible to change students' conception of
power and of human nature simply by altering the classroom structure?
Or will the subtle presence of the dual structure combine with other
information outside the classroom, to continue to mitigate against
change, despite what a teacher says or does? Thakur (1990), speaking
from a psychoanalytic point of view, doubts that any adult, with the
exception of the more "pure" communicative context of mother/infant
relationship, can respond without having power issues. Even if we were
to assume that this power shift were possible, it becomes more difficult
in teaching practice, when the teacher herself is part of a bureaucratic
structure which is imposing its power on her.

Another question relates to students' conceptions of communicative
competence for peers during group work. This becomes a particularly
important issue in diverse classrooms, both with culturally and
linguistically different students, as well as special needs students who
are mainstreamed. The fifth graders based their criteria for accepting
a peer in the group interactions on cultural aspects of communicative
competence. The students' selecting out certain peers was similar to
Erickson's (1982) descriptions of gatekeeping on the basis of
"in-groupness." Two questions arise from this response of students to
each other. Although it has been assumed that greater communication
arises ”naturally“ out of group work, is it possible that communicative

competencies need to be taught/learned ntlot_to having children work in

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groups? Also, could it be that breakdowns in CGL commonly attributed to
social class differences may in fact have an underlying basis in
communicative differences? Further studies might explore the
relationship of breakdowns between students in two areas: the typical
and mainstreamed student, and students of different social classes, to
consider issues of "communicative competence,” which relate to differing
conceptions of what is appropriate to talk about, how to express humor,
effective questioning and answering, etc.

Alternatively, we might explore more about changing peer
perceptions and improving communication between diverse peers. We have
little documentation on the role of talk and dialogue in the development
of social process, in part because students have rarely talked with
peers in traditional classroom settings (Cazden, 1986; Gilmore, 1986;
Silberman, 1971). Contact theory assumes that the changes in
perceptions of peers which have led to friendship were the result of
learning about other students' abilities to think conceptually about
academic matters, the often-expressed idea of "s/he's not as 'dumb' as I
thought." But it makes intuitive sense that this is not what was most
important to many students. From what the students have told us, they
need to learn more about each other, and not necessarily in academic
realms. This would make sense, in terms of creating new "in groupness"
with diverse peers; getting to know the person and identifying common
interests provided the basis for further dialogue connected not only to
learning situations but to their own private lives.

One example is the growth of friendship between Courtney and Lina,
who had not participated in group dialogue during the native American

unit, and who was viewed initially by peers as shy and silent and

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"mysterious." As Courtney learned how to talk with Lina, she discovered
common interests for having baby brothers. Courtney wondered if, once
hers could talk, she would fight with him. Lina became the "expert” in
these conversations, as her little brother was already talking; and this
common bond became a basis for further dialogue for the two as they
explored their relationships with these younger siblings. As Courtney
befriended Lina, other peers began to talk with her; and Lina grew in
self-confidence and began to speak in group situations. The importance
of "social" dialogue, in which students make connections with each
other' lives, cannot be underestimated. In other instances, I heard
students ask each other questions peripheral to the academic learning,
such as April's inquiry to Sivan, ”Do you like baseball cards?" A major
concern of teachers has been that when students talk about other things
(what teachers call "off-task behavior”) it detracts from academic
learning. However, the short dialogue thrown into a math
problem-solving session about the baseball cards did not slow down the
group's processing of the math problem. The ”vector of action” that
Doyle (1986) talks about remained in motion. And April became more a
part of her new group because she knew something personal about Sivan;
they were becoming "friends" through establishing connections of common
interests.

In addition to needing to learn more about the nature and role of
student "talk" during CGL which promotes social acceptance of diversity,
we need to consider variations in the structure of CGL, to extend it to
meet the needs of individual teachers and particular classrooms. Some
of the greatest impact for CGL on academic learning and generation of

student excitement occurred when Mrs. E. opened up the classroom, to

205
share with the rest of the school and students' parents. This extension
of community served as a catalyst to increase the students' sense of
value in what they did, increase their sense of competence as they
taught others, and heighten academic curiosity as students engaged in
dialogue with peers and interested visitors.

Although Josh said that Group One completed the unit so
successfully because "we had to do it," that was still partly because
others were scheduled to visit. The actual involvement of the extended
community was, in the end, more conducive to learning than the pressure
of preparing for the presence of the visitors had been. Future studies
might explore how teachers can expand and open CGL contexts more, to

establish a greater sense of learning and extend the sense of community.

TRANSFERABILITY: "THE RIPPLE EFFECT" RE-EXAMINED

I began this study with the assumption that, if students learned to
work together in groups, the skills would transfer to future
interactions and be useful to the preparation for citizenship, not only
in this democratic society, but also globally. Convinced that the
schools' complicity was pedagogical and evaluative practices based in
competition, I assumed that changing from competitive to cooperative
structures could resolve the problems of selfish individuals, and of
enemies between diverse groups (Noddings, 1988; POpkewitz, et al.,
1986). However, these students' global understandings, expectations,
and prophecies indicated that they would not necessarily be disposed to
act cooperatively in future contexts because they did not believe it was

possible. The students had had varying success with cooperating with

206
peers. The crucial problem, however, was that they carried a schema of
cooperation as compliance. The resolution of conflict was not
"realistic.”

Even if they knew how and wanted to be cooperative in future
outside contexts, they might not be disposed to try, if they assumed
that the rest of the world did not carry a similar disposition and/or
ability to cooperate. As Sivan pointed out, everyone would have to
learn this, and it might take a very long time -- 100 years!

In this study, I grappled with larger issues than semiotic or
contextual differences between cooperation as an ideal versus a
pragmatic view of cooperation as compliance. The major distinction for
transferability was really conceptions of oooololllty; and students'
schemas of power as coercive and cooperation as complying mitigated
against such possibility.

Mrs. E. talked about her hopefulness in terms of the "ripple
effect." She, like I, felt that the usefulness of CGL was more than a
goal toward equity and excellence in academic learning. To teach
students to cooperate was important in its own right, to prepare
students to be effective participatory citizens in the future. As Mrs.
E. talked with the students one day about the need for global
cooperation, she used the following metaphor, "It's like when you throw
a pebble in the water..." This represented the potential impact of her
teaching: each student would carry skills of cooperation out into the
world, influencing other people, in ever-widening circles.

In interviews, three students talked about what Mrs. E. meant by
the pebble phrase, as it related to their learning how to cooperate as

well as how this connected to their global future. The students'

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responses to the meaning of the pebble metaphor varied, but were all
different than Mrs. E.'s. Having just predicted global war based on his
own experiences from living in Israel, Sivan understood the image, not
as noootnl, but as proof of mushrooming, negative consequences of when
"one person starts something and then it goes to other groups and stuff
and starts [wars].“ Sivan said "it means throwing something in and the
other side grows bigger and bigger.” To Sivan, the pebble metaphor
expressed, rather than a language of hope and possibility, how difficult
it would be to achieve global cooperation (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Mun offered a second interpretation of the pebble image, relating
it directly to himself: "I think she means when you learn something,
your knowledge grows" (Tr Int 2/24/89). His response showed how, even
when discussing global futures, students did not automatically make the
conceptual leap from the particular to the general, to understand that
what they had experienced and learned in groups in the fifth grade
classroom could apply to a larger, global context.

When I asked Asbeid what Mrs. E. had meant with the pebble story,
he gave me a scholarly, analytical reply, identifying the phrase as
"It's...one of those forms of speech...“ I asked what he saw in his
mind; Asbeid reported ”a mound of pebbles." He did not "see" the
ripples; to Asbeid, the ripples were not even a significant part of the
metaphor (Tr Int 2/24/89).

Anticipating coercive personalities, Josh and Sivan saw the pebble
metaphor as a one-way action, and they were not the pebbles at all. The
people who made ripples were the "strong" ones, those with the power to
coerce. Asbeid's interpretation, if he saw the student as the pebble,

saw no ripples and all those pebbles were in a pile at the bottom.

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Erickson (1990) talked about the same issue, saying he "never was sure
what happened to the rock."3

The students' responses to the notion of ripple effect had varied;
but none had talked about the difference they could make, with their
knowledge of how to cooperate in the future. Mrs. E. had assumed agency
for most of these children; by virtue of the parents' high educational
status, these students would be the leaders of the future. However, the
children's knowledge of the lack of cooperation in the outside world,
with vivid images from personal experiences and/or the media, was very
powerful in students' conceptions of what was possible in the future.
They felt that the outside world would influence them more than vice
versa. Assuming the dominator mode, and that other people would not be
disposed toward cooperating, then even if skilled and disposed to work
toward mutual agreement, a student as future citizen might be reticent
to try to use what s/he knew, not believing people with power would
choose to cooperate.

Other specific incidents also led me to conclude that CGL
experiences would not automatically result in kids' transferring the
skills of cooperation to other social contexts. The first consideration
was student interpretations that being cooperative implied compliance
and withdrawal, and did not promote effective participatory skills as a
democratic citizen. Second, student interpretations of the success of a
context could be influenced and colored by factors outside the group
experiences themselves, so that even when I thought they were very
successful, the students did not always think so.

When I had asked Josh about how it felt to have been the member of

a group highly praised for their work on the Indian unit, I found that

209
what it meant to him had nothing to do with peer interactions. Joshua
was still focusing on the aspect of ”doing work"; because there was
always more to do, he felt no sense of having accomplished anything.
Josh expressed no strong sense of agency from those experiences. To
him, they represented simply one more way to “do" school and comply to
an adult's wishes.

In another instance, three members of a "Narnia" group later
recalled the interactions with Robbie as having been unsuccessful,
because Robbie had been skeptical of the success of the group during the
discussion which followed the group's compilation of character traits.
When Robbie had claimed that none of his ideas had been accepted, I had
gone back to the fieldnotes to see why his conception of what had
happened did not square with mine. Attempting to show the group what I
had seen, I shared my fieldnotes which indicated that his ideas had been
included on the final list. Two months later, some of Robbie's peers
brought up the incident as an unhappy and unsuccessful one, although Rob
himself had resolved the negative feelings and felt it had been fine
(Int 11/29/88, 12/15/88). Although my observations indicated that the
group interactions had been very successful and positive, some of the
students did not think so. If group interactions were cooperative, but
remembered as unhappy experiences, then students' failure to identify
contexts of success and skills attained could mitigate against transfer
of cooperative action to future efforts.

Coles (1986) found that children thought differently about global
concerns, depending upon their lived social conditions. Children who
coped with harsh day-to-day problems such as poverty, famine, or war

were concerned about the local context and had little interest in global

210
issues. On the other hand, some middle class children with a promising
future were very concerned about global issues. There were notable
similarities in context and response from some of the students in this
study. Ricardo, for example, resembled a high school female in Coles'
study, who was very worried about global realities and talked about
those concerns with peers. Ricardo, recall, had poignantly stated that
he and his best friend had, since age five, "been always worried about
nuclear war and...always worried about that in the future" (Tr Int
2/24/89).

Although students were concerned, they did not necessarily feel any
hope. Mrs. E. had more to deal with, in preparing these children for
cooperation in the future, than putting students in groups and having
them "experience" what it is like to cooperate with diverse others.
Ironically, it may be that the ”liberation” of a certain group of people
who have time and the propensity to be concerned about others on a more
global basis, coupled with the availability of information about
selected global issues in the media, ironically serve as a double-edged
sword, carrying not only a potential impetus to reflection and action,
but also the potential to conclude that the self and one's experience
are, relative to the larger problems, insignificant or even helpless.
Such a combination could discourage students to feel empowered as
citizens or motivated to democratic participation.

These findings point to considerations of conducting teaching and
learning as an interpretive process. This may be a fitting way to
approach the goals that Brophy (1988, p. 80) recommends for students in

the future: ”... to learn how things are in the world today, how they

211
got that way, why they are the way they are, and what implications all
of this holds for personal decision making and action."

All speech events are symbolic and open to interpretation; peers
may have a different account of what ”happened." Therefore, it is
important for the teacher to encourage and guide student reflections
about their social interactions, or they may, like Robbie's "Narnia"
group, be interpreting them very differently than the teacher or other
peers assume.

Students were very sensitive to issues of power. Their responses
to questions related to larger issues of global concern point to how
crucial it is for adults working with children to understand where kids
are "coming from." Therefore, students need to not only have the
experiences of what it is like to cooperate in a group, and acquire
communication skills; equally important is the ability to reflect upon
these interactions, identify implications, and create alternatives for
future actions.

Ironically, students olo make conceptual links about cooperation as
compliance to other situations. This was true, both in the group
stories they wrote, and private interviews. Mun, for example, assumed
that a person in business would need to "cooperate," i.e., give the
other person the price he wanted, or he would have no sale! Emily
assumed that in a meeting, it would be better for her to give in, to
keep things going smoothly. However, students did not automatically
make links about the new idea of cooperation being possible for future
contexts. Asking questions implied links; this was helpful in assisting
student development of a "language of possibility" for the future (see

Giroux, 1987; Greene, 1988). Initially, students did not make the

212
conceptual leap that what they learned in the classroom about
cooperating could make a difference in the outside world, either through
their own future actions or those of others who also learned to
cooperate with peers. However, all eight students who originally cited
dire consequences of future uncooperativeness, alternatively concluded
after questions which implied possible connections, that this might not
happen if others learned to cooperate in school, like they were doing.

In this study, Mrs. E. and I had worked as a team; she asked
questions in class and small group discussions and I followed up with
more individualized inquiries. While we do not know what is possible,
in a large classroom with a teacher pressured to raise scores on
standardized tests, this context indicated the benefits of asking
students many questions. Mrs. E. had noted this, referring to Robbie's
having become more "philosophical." The interviewing process had turned
out to be more than my asking questions to gain information; it had
provided opportunities to extend the CGL experiences and class
discussions as objects for reflection. Students began to trace,
objectify, and expand their own thinking about the process of
interacting with peers.

Buchmann (1989) argues that teachers should be contemplative. I
would add that students also need to be reflective, particularly about
their roles and responses in social interactions. Earlier, I referred
to CGL as a springboard for reflection; CGL can provide concrete
contexts for observing and talking about students' social interactions.
It is ironic that educators have assumed that social knowledge is best
acquired implicitly, by simply doing it. It is so obvious that we

cannot construct what Gardner (1988) calls inter- and intra-personal

213
knowledge without communicating with other people that we have accepted
this as occurring implicitly. As Mrs. E. said, learning about
cooperation "happens as you do it." However, the responses of teacher
and students in this fifth grade classroom indicate the differences of
perceptions and interpretations of any given social event. The need for
reflection is evident, if learning about social aspects of ourselves is
to be socially ratified knowledge.

Paradoxically, although we realize academic content knowledge is
acquired within a ooolol setting, and are beginning to adopt
constructivist approaches to search for meaning within academic
disciplines such as math and science, we have continued to bifurcate
social from academic learning, using the social context to construct
meaning about academic learning, using social interaction to make
academic learning more palatable and meaningful (see Duckworth, Easley,
Hawkins, & Henriquez, 1990; Fosnot, 1989; Prawat, 1990).

It is strange that we have dissected "knowing” into discrete
categories which separate personal and social learning from the
academic, ignoring that the ultimate goal of knowing is to answer
questions about who we are as human beings and what we are capable of
constructing as a shared lived experience. Arendt's (1958) concerns
about dehumanization of the post-industrialized world are realized in
the way we have fragmented our world and ways of knowing.

The fifth graders had not asked questions, previous to the communal
sharing event, about how native Americans were making sense of their
world and what their lived experiences were like: they did not inquire
how the Haida could give away their wealth to others, how many families

could live together in one dwelling, whether it be a longhouse or a

214
pueblo. Courtney began to identify the idea of kachinas as ”legends,"
but how people based their lives on those legends was unclear. Whether
or not she also had legends, and if so, how she used them to make
meaning of her own life, was not explored. The most ”real” part of
Courtney's experience was the connection with Megen's baby sister,
sleeping peacefully and never dreaming of the connections being created
because of her presence. My question, after watching the fifth graders
learn, is, how can we possibly think we can separate social and personal
understanding from academic knowledge, when the concepts are important
most of all as they contribute to the sensemaking of one's own lived
experience?

CGL is being used as the means to learning academic content. Yet,
anthropological research has said academic learning is not particularly
transferable to "real life" contexts. Although Resnick (1987) and
others cite social learning as crucial in the future, we have still not
understood how to promote such learning. The responses of students and
teacher in this study raise some serious issues about h2! to teach
social understanding about the need for reflection and social
ratification of processes well-done, and about the paradoxes of
operating within a power hierarchy while trying to teach students a
dialogue of equality.

Mrs. E. conceptualized teaching and learning cooperation as a
re-definition of power relationships and interactions, an attempt to
decentralize power in the classroom. However, because of the inherent
duality of the structure, with the teacher's role as still holding the
ultimate power, teachers may need explicitly to de-emphasize student

obligations to the teacher, so that students do not focus exclusively on

215
obligations to the adult and, in the process, neglect interactions with
certain peers.

Teachers and students need to explore, identify, and address
preconceptions of the notion of cooperation, particularly those which
are counterproductive to maintenance of dialogue and group resolution of
differences. The group writing exercise may be an interpretive tool for

teachers in the future.

CONCLUSION

CGL is an important forum for social, as well as academic learning,
to develop a sense of community; the fifth grade students learned to
appreciate and praise diverse others, help, share, establish new
friendships, and make group decisions. Yet some of those actions were
subversive, and students did not communicate a sense of being empowered
for social action. In the title to this chapter, I suggested that CGL
has the potential to be the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing.

To develop as citizens for the future, students must be able to
develop a language of possibility, to be what Greene (1990a) described
as "audacious" in a socially reconstructive way. Responding with
conforming and compliance, evasion and withdrawal mitigates against
working through differences and changing, even if done with a sense of
community.

We are preparing children for something about which we do not yet
know. How do we go about helping students to compare, alter, expand,
begin to create new possibilities for their futures, experience a sense

of agency? I am convinced that teaching students to cooperate must be

216
done, less as a technical "skill" and more as a construction of meaning,
so that kids are fully engaged and invested in the learning process.
The problem in educating children to cooperate is not simply to
reorganize and have them "learn by doing." Just as children learn
conceptions of the physical world by observing, reflecting, and
experimenting, so, too, should they cultivate these skills in
understanding the social elements of their existence. Only if they have
optimal experiences in collaborating, co-creating, and co-constructing
with peers will students develop understandings and dispositions to
create a sense of agency and a language of possibility that can
counteract the current sense of futility of public schools and prepare

students for socially reconstructive work in tomorrow's society.

217

NOTES

1 A recent discussion of mine with a manic depressive confirmed that
that person's experience in isolation was not at all ”comfortable,"
but rather intense disorientation and humiliation (PC 5/90).

2 A student teacher told me that it was just as well that her black
male student had been kicked out of school for the remainder of the
year, not to graduate; he "needed space to get it together," she
rationalized

3 The idea of utilizing metaphorical language is strongly advocated by
Shulman (1986), and Kohl (1984). While they and others have shown
how use of metaphorical language helped students to make connections
from lived experiences to conceptual matters, the responses of
students in my study showed how problematic it is to use images
because they are open to multiple interpretations. Although Mrs. E.
had produced this image in the context of the need for people to
cooperate globally, and I had subsequently asked the question about
its meaning in a context of global futures, the three students'
interpretations were still very different.

APPENDICES

APPENDIX A

Conventions for Transcript Analysis

[word]

(word)

1

218

APPENDIX A

Conventions for Transcript Analysis

Indicates that the speaker stressed,
i.e., said this part more loudly
than the rest.

Indicates a pause

Brackets indicate that I inserted an
implied word for understanding and
continuity, i.e., linguistic
information

Parentheses indicate nonverbal
actions by the speaker, i.e.,
contextual information

A one-sided bracket indicates
overlapping speech

APPENDIX B

Story Character Maps from "Narnia" Groups

219

APPENDIX B

Story Character Maps from "Narnia" Groups

(Refer also to Table 1, Chapter 2: lessons on 10/4-5, 1988)

Group 1: Robbie, Ricardo, Emily, & Mun

 

 

 

 

 

220

Group 2: Courtney, Joshua, Megen, & Asbeid

 

 

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APPENDIX C

Students' Group Stories about Cooperation

221

APPENDIX C

Students' Group Stories about Cooperation

Garfield'o filg Dlot

By Group One

(Asbeid, Courtney, Michael, Onochie)

Garfield is sleeping in his box. Jon walks in and says, "Wake up,
Garfield. I need to weigh you! You may need to go on a diet."

Jon picks him up and says, "Wake up!" So Jon sets him on the scale and
the scale says, "Diet time! Too heavy!" Garfield woke up and said,
"Aarrrgh! I'm going to kill this stupid scale!" And he did! Springs
were coming out of the scale!

"Garfield, you broke my $28.89 scale that my mom gave me!," said Jon.
"Jon, how did you know how much the scale was!?" Garfield asked.

"It says on the piece flying in the air!" "Jon, you are 25 degrees on
the Richter scale." "Very funny, Garfield! I'll go get your diet
breakfast! And my lunch!"

They walk into the kitchen and Jon prepares his brunch and it's two peas
and a three-inch celery stick! And he puts it in front of Garfield, and
Garfield says, "Aarrrgh! I hate diets!" And Jon puts a Whopper on his
plate. He walked by, and says, "Have a nice brunch, Garfield!" And
Garfield jumps on his plate and eats his sandwich!

"Garfield, I know you hate diet time, so I won't put you on a diet, but
could you make me another sandwich?

"Sure! Anything for no diet!" Garfield goes in the kitchen and starts
making the sandwich.

Meanwhile, Jon was fixing the scale. When he's done throwing it away,
he walks into the kitchen and there is a big mess. Food all over!

"Sorry, I just got a little carried away!" said Garfield.

222

MW

By Group Two
(Joshua, Emily, Ricardo, April)

Two dogs were walking through someone's back yard. They saw an apple
tree with only one apple in it. They both ran over to it, trying to
reach the apple.

Spike, one of the dogs, said, "I get the apple." Then Spot, the other
said, "No, I get it because I saw it first!"

Spike: "Wait! This isn't working out."
Spot: "Yup, you're right."

Spike and Spot (at the same time): "We've got to figure a way out of
this."

Spike: "I have an idea. I can stand on your head and get the apple,
then we can split it in half."
Spot: "That's a good idea."

Spike climbs on Spot.

Spot and Spike: "OOF! AAARRR! WAM! SNATCH! GRAB!"
Spike: "I got it!"

They fall down.

Spike pops his claw and rips the apple in half. They eat it happily
ever after.

THE END

223

Martian
By Group Three
(Megen, Robbie, Sivan)

Once there was a martian who lived on Mars, and his name was Unhuman.
One day a Martian named Really Unhuman landed in his backyard. (Which
just happened to be just big enough for the spaceship.)

"Hey, you look just like me," said Unhuman.

"I just noticed that, and that's why XQQ have to leave!" said
Really Unhuman.

"Wait a minute, this is MY house, and MI backyard, and MI planet,
so YOU git out of here," said Unhuman.

They kept on arguing for one full hour. Finally, Really Unhuman said,

"Wait, I know. I'll paint myself yellow, so I'll be yellow,
instead of purple, and then we won't have to argue anymore.

"I want to be yellow," said Unhuman.

”Fine, then, we'll be different colors, and then I can get out of
this place!"

THE END

224

Gatfield'o Fooo Eight

By Group Four
(Lina, Mun, Willie, Gilberto)
GARFIELD, JON AND ODIE

Problem: They're eating dinner, fighting over food. Having a food
fight over lasagna and pizza. There is only one piece left.

Garfield: "There's only one pizza left, so I'll have it."
Jon: That's not fair. We should oll have it!"
Odie: "No, I want it. It's dog food, not human food!"

Garfield: I want the pizza, it's cat food, not dog food or
human food.

Jon: "I want the pizza, it's human food, not dog or cat
food."
Odie: "No!"

They start in a food fight.
Odie and Garfield recover, and Jon says,
[Jon]: ”Okay, don't start it again. Let's talk."

Garfield: "Good grief! Okay, let's cut the pizza into
thirds."

Odie and Garfield both eat pizza and Jon makes another lasagna and
shares it.

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