., pinum ui..¥.‘lll| vfil. ,... 9. :e A...) 5. 1.33.3; .a .5: ’33. 23...»... .. a by: 1.1!:- 7‘3 . xv. .IMN...’ I, .EOIQF e. .55...) 19.5..- vc§5|\ ,uSlx 1.533.}; 1...... I 7|..r u::..«\! invincitV ”trill. ‘€. , . r3) ‘) 1 ' 1|. ‘ P4 3).... x! :{iill‘fitsa (t. v: alt-.0: a\ .1 \s 2.? megs ' lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllIllllllllllllllll ‘ 293 01420 1614 This is to certify that the dissertation entitled Emerging Discourses in Middle School: A Study of Individual Understanding and Group Construction of the Concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density presented by Ralph Paul Vellom has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for Ph. D . degree in Teacher Education awfiw Major professor MSU is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution 0-12771 LIBRARY Michigan State University PLACE N RETURN BOXto romavothb checkoutfrun your record. TO AVOID FINES return on or before date duo. DATE DUE DATE DUE DATE DUE MSU Is An Affirmative Action/Equal Oppommty Institution EMERGING DISCOURSES IN MIDDLE SCHOOL: A STUDY OF INDIVIDUAL UNDERSTANDING AND GROUP CONSTRUCTION OF THE CONCEPTS OF MASS, VOLUME, AND DENSITY By Ralph Paul Vellom A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of Teacher Education 1995 ABSTRACT EMERGING DISCOURSES IN MIDDLE SCHOOL: A STUDY OF INDIVIDUAL UNDERSTANDING AND GROUP CONSTRUCTION OF THE CONCEPTS OF MASS, VOLUME, AND DENSITY By Ralph Paul Vellom This study examines interactions in a sixth grade urban science classroom in which students were learning about describing substances. It tells the story of the development of a discourse community in the classroom as students worked on the concepts of mass, volume, and density. At the same time, it depicts the interactions in which two target groups of four students each involved themselves. In telling these two stories together, the study gives a sense of how language, thought, and action move across different social arrangements in the class, as well as the interplay between developing private and public knowledge. Students in the class worked individually, in pairs, in groups of four, and as a whole class. The students who were the subjects of the study came to the instructional setting with a variety of backgrounds in terms of home culture, past success in school subjects, and academic skills. The teacher in this study employed a discourse-based instructional approach in which engaging students in a wide range of language, thought, and action was seen as a productive way to teach conceptually difficult material. While they were learning to about substances, students also learned about the activities of scientists, characterized by the acronym TOPE, which stands for techniques, observations, patterns, and explanations. The TOPE acronym then served as an organizing framework for their investigations. Drawing on the conceptual change and sociolinguistic research traditions, this study examined classroom discourse in terms of four dimensions: goals, mediational means, standards, and connectedness. Over the course of instruction, the teacher expected that the range of intellectual and physical tools which students would employ in describing substances would narrow and become more scientific. The principal mechanism at work in this narrowing was the privileging of some forms of mediated action over others in a variety of social settings in the classroom. The study found that when privileging occurred, students who were less academically adept were likely to withdraw from significant roles in interactions. In like fashion, students who were able to incorporate the privileged forms were more prepared for later instruction. The author suggests further study of this teaching approach and these concepts in pursuit of science for all students. Copyright by Ralph Paul Vellom 1995 Dedication To my family, Karen, Matthew, Katie, and Emily, who love and laugh each day and remind me what’s important. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS To Karen, my beloved wife, I owe a debt I cannot find words to describe. You have lived through the hardest part, and have sustained me in body, soul, and mind. Your love and care have made this work possible. In this study, as in other parts of my doctoral program, I was supported and challenged by the members of my guidance committee. I thank Dr. Charles W. Anderson, who went beyond comfortable friendship many times to encourage, probe, and push, all in the true and best spirit of a mentor. I know you had your doubts, Andy! To Dr. Edward L. Smith, my gratitude for constant and unswerving support, and a willingness to engage me at all levels. To Drs. Susan Florio-Ruane and Mark Conley, my thanks for your willingness to help me think about teaching, learning, and discourse. I learned much! Mrs. P. and her colleagues at the middle school have my undying admiration. You enrich and challenge your students, and in doing so you bring promise into their lives. To the other researchers with whom I have worked on this project, including David Eichinger, Yvonne David, Gwen Kollar, Lori Kurth, David Holland, Dr. Annemarie Palincsar, and the teachers at the other middle school go my thanks as well, for your more brief but still substantial contributions to my learning, and for your patience as I tried. My colleagues in doctoral study who were instrumental in getting through this project include Marcia Fetters, Greg Coverdale, and David Eichinger. To them I am grateful for their willingness to share stories, ideas, and dreams. Jean Beland prepared the manuscript and supported final production in a myriad of ways. My thanks for your efficient and friendly help! vi I came to this doctoral work primarily because of the influence of some great teachers, many of whom I was privileged to work with at Mt. Carmel High School in Rancho Penasquitos, California. Chief among them is John E. Earnest, whose love of a good question led me to consider conceptual change teaching. In my life as a high school student I encountered a vision of excellence that has inspired me to teach and grow. I owe a tremendous debt to Mrs. Carolyn Dexter, my Advanced Biology teacher from Silverdale, Washington. My brothers and sisters, Dan, Tim, Beth, and Dot have each taught me as we have lived and grown together. Here, in my own family, I learned to love learning. I am grateful beyond words to my parents, Deacons Skip and Anne Vellom, for this lifelong attitude. You show by your example how good life can be when one accepts new challenges and is willing to learn from them, and grow. vii TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF FIGURES ...... ..xi Introduction ........................................................................................ 1 Research Questions ............................................................................................................ 7 A Sociocultural View of Teaching and Learning ........................................... .8 Learning About Mass, Volume, and Density as Enculturation ......................... 14 Description of the Study and the Unit of Analysis ....................................... 19 The Analytical Frame: Four Dimensions of Discourse ............................................................ 22 Knowing and Learning: A Conceptual Change Perspective: ............................. 26 Teaching: A Conceptual Change Approach ................................................. 29 Recommendations for Teaching from Conceptual Change Research ........................................... 31 Knowing and Learning: A Sociolinguistic Perspective: ............................... ..34 Teaching: A Sociolinguistic Approach: ..................................................... 36 Recommendations for Teaching from Sociolinguistic Research: ............................................... 4‘7 Purposes of the Study .......................................................................... 5 0 Description of Setting ......................................................................... 5 1 The School and Community .............................................................................................. 51 Features of the Classroom ................................................................................................. 54 The Curriculum .............................................................................................................. 56 Data Collection: ................................................................................. 5 ‘7 Data Analysis: ................................................................................... 64 Mediated Action in the Developing Discourse System of the Classroom .................................... 65 Types of Mediated Actions ................................................................................................ 67 Summary ....................................................................................................................... 78 Introduction ...................................................................................... 8 0 Structural overview of this chapter ...................................................................................... 84 viii Phase I: Getting and Recording Data in Colored Solutions ............................. 88 Student Groupwork in Phase I: .......................................................................................... 93 Dimensions of Discourse in Phase I ................................................................................... 101 Phase 11: Getting Good Data in Colored Solutions .................................. . . . .1 09 Significant Features of the Class Data Set ........................................................................... 110 Student Groupwork in Phase II ......................................................................................... 115 Whole-Class Consensus on Possible Stacks ........................................................................ 120 Dimensions of Discourse in Phase II .................................................................................. 124 Phase III: Patterns and Explanations in Colored Solutions ........................ . . . .l 34 Groupwork in Phase III: Poster Planning and production ........................................................ 135 Class validation ............................................................................................................. 144 Logbook Entries for Colored Solutions .............................................................................. 146 Concluding the Colored Solutions Unit .............................................................................. 149 Dimensions of Discourse in Phase III ................................................................................. 150 Phase IV: Developing the Concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density: ................ l S 7 Student Groupwork: Sorting Terms for MVD ...................................................................... 160 More Groupwork on Sorting Terms for MVD ...................................................................... 165 Dimensions of Discourse in Sorting MVD Terms ................................................................ 170 Whole-class work on Mass, Volume, and Density ................................................................ 171 MVD Test: Privileged Forms ........................................................................................... 176 Dimensions of Discourse in Phase IV ................................................................................ 180 Summary of findings: ..................................................................... ....188 Question 1 .................................................................................................................... 188 Question 2 .................................................................................................................... 195 Implications for teaching practice ........ . ................................................ .201 Research-related connections and issues: ............................................... ...206 APPENDIX A212 INSTRUCTIONAL MATERIALS............................................212 LEARNING LIKE A SCIENTIST ABOUT COLORED SOLUTIONS .. . . 213 HOW DO SCIENTISTS BUILD NEW KNOWLEDGE ABOUT SUBSTANCES9216 Developing and learning mm ........................................................ 216 Mug carefully and recording what they see ......................................... 2 16 Finding mum: ................................................................................ 216 ix COLORED SOLUTIONS ..................................................... 217 APPENDIX B ................................................................. 212 INTERVIEW AND TEST DATA ............................................. 212 TEST ON COLORED SOLUTIONS, MASS, VOLUME, AND DENSITY 221 LIST OF REFERENCES ..................................................... 221 REFERENCES ................................................................ 2 4 7 Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5 Figure 6 Figure 7 Figure 8 Figure 9 LIST OF FIGURES One representation of the goals of discourse-based science instruction Map of classroom showing locations of cameras and target groups TOPE activities and examples Instructional Timeline The TOPE x MVD grid Claimed stacks in Colored Solutions Guidelines for poster planning and production Excerpts of posters for Groups 1 and 2 Activities related to describing substances xi CHAPTER 1 Introduction Among the many goals of science education reform over the last thirty years, two stand out as having been central to virtually every significant effort. One has been the quest to make school science both meaningfid for students and truly scientific, a goal engendered by curricula and teaching that in many cases has been characterized by lists of facts and process skills. These have made it hard for students to understand how science is applied, or to take from it anything that might be useful in their lives thereafter, since much of the science they learn is not presented in meaningful contexts. The second goal has been to teach science in ways that make it accessible to all students. Traditional science teaching, and even the teaching of late that is hands-on and real-world based, generally serves only a portion of the student population. Typically, students who are least successful in school science classes include those who are marginalized in other school settings, those who lack basic academic skills and attitudes, and those whose home cultures differ significantly from the mainstream culture of the school. The quest for these goals has been a long-standing one. Three decades of effort on each of these counts has engendered reform efforts that have, in many ways, altered many of the underlying assumptions and practices associated with school science. Even today, however, the full achievement of these goals remains out of reach. We have not yet found the answer to meaningfully represented school science that is accessible to all. Over this span of time, analyses of classroom situations have given us better curricula, and better and more fruitful approaches to teaching. Yet, in some sense these analyses have been only as good as the results they have engendered. These goals beg an analysis that both helps us to better understand and tease out the problems inherent in teaching meaningful science to all students, and one that leads us to indications for better practice as well. This dissertation is based on two forms of analysis that have been brought to bear on this problem, each with its own set of underlying assumptions and its own recommendations for teaching. One of these is the conceptual change perspective, which focuses on individuals’ cognitive and sensory-motor activity. This perspective promotes a focus on science concepts, and the kinds of activities that students do with them, in reforming classroom teaching. Proponents of this perspective claim that students’ theories and conceptions are often not recognized or dealt with in meaningful ways in traditional science classrooms. For example, sixth grade students learning about the concepts of mass, volume, and density often do not distinguish between mass and density, using the word “heavy” to describe both massive objects (such as logs) and those that are very dense (such as lead). Teaching that focuses on definitions and formulas, even if it involves hands-on applications, often fails to connect with the students’ conceptions or to help them through the process of conceptual change. Thus, this perspective suggests teaching in ways that put student ideas and conceptions in the center of the instructional arena, in order to assist students in coming to more complete and complex understandings of concepts in meaningful contexts. Research on conceptual change suggests that teachers should use specific strategies to assist students in the process of modifying and expanding their own conceptions. Among these are the presentation of phenomena or events that cause cognitive conflict with personally held theories, the elaboration of alternative ways of conceptualizing the phenomena or event, giving students time and reason to “try on” alternate conceptions, and assisting students in making connections that elucidate important links between new conceptions and related ideas that the students are likely to know and appreciate as part of their own webs of understanding. Again, conceptual change teaching takes as its starting point the ideas and conceptions that students bring to the instructional setting, and thus it is often called ‘student-centered teaching’. Yet, alternate conceptions must be carefully selected and presented in ways that encourage the transformation of personal theories towards those that more closely reflect the scientific canon. This drive towards accepted scientific ideas is the crux of the conceptual change model of instruction, and as such forms the basis for success or failure for students. Two common teaching strategies that many teachers employ in conceptual change (and traditional) classrooms are to link important canonical ideas to the persons who formulated or discovered them, and to direct students’ attention to increasingly fine details in attempting to make sense of observed phenomena. The first of these often leads teachers to use historical debates among scientists both as a way of teaching the concepts or ideas, and as a model for classroom discourse. Both of these approaches in teaching -- modeling historical debates, and redirecting students’ attention to smaller and smaller details of observation -- work best for students who already see the value in articulating and debating theories about observed phenomena. As a research perspective, conceptual change tells a limited story of the classroom. It fails to account for the many aspects of classroom life that are not analyzable as conceptions about the world. These aspects, which include individual attributes of students and teachers, physical setting, social norms and expectations, and institutional arrangements, include critical factors that weigh heavily on the educational process. This shortfall limits the usefulness of the conceptual change approach as a source of recommendations for teaching. It doesn’t address issues such as motivation and language, which may be critical for engaging students (especially lower-achieving ones) in discussions of their conceptions. A second analytical approach, often called the sociolinguistic perspective, focuses on students’ participation in collectively (and therefore culturally) valued social practices. This perspective suggests that language use in authentic situations should be the goal of teaching in any subject area, and that engaging students in language and social practices that approximate those of the scientific community is one way to achieve success in teaching and learning science. Sociolinguists examining teaching about mass, volume, and density ‘ would be most interested in the cultural practices surrounding their use in the classroom, including the kinds of opportunities for meaningful discourse and action that students encounter. In classrooms in which the teachers subscribe to this approach, students might initially be encouraged to use formulations for these concepts that make sense to them, such as “heavy”, and to negotiate meanings with other students in instances where disagreements or confusion occurs. Moves to include more scientific language (which may be suggested by any member of the community, and drawn from virtually any source) then hinge on the needs of students as they try to make sense of their own work and the work of their peers. Sociolinguists contrast this kind of teaching with the IRE interaction pattern found in many traditional classrooms, classrooms (Wells, undated), focusing their efforts instead on opportunities for involvement in scientific discourse around describing substances. They point out that in some classrooms the opportunities to appropriate scientific discourse do not exist, while in other classrooms (like those in which conceptual change teaching occurs), social and cultural patterns exclude some students from meaningful participation. Their focus on action in social settings removes barriers that limit access for many students in traditional settings, and endorses teaching methods that support a rich set of classroom interactions in which students’ formulations play a central role. The sociolinguistic perspective supports teaching that engenders meaningful uses of scientific discourse in classroom settings. Teachers are encouraged to structure situations that challenge students to seek answers to questions that they find interesting and worthy of investigation. They then assist students in their quests by helping them to understand the culturally relevant practices of the scientific community that may help the students to answer their questions. In this process, they provide many varied opportunities for written and spoken discourse, all bearing the hallmark of authenticity in terms of the students’ quests for understanding. At the same time, connections between the actions of the students and those that practicing scientists might take in similar situations are made explicit to students. In these ways, students are scaffolded into meaningful discourse that reflects increasingly scientific approaches to solving problems that are real to them. Criticisms of the sociolinguistic approach to teaching science have reflected concern over the limited tools it presents for dealing with what Lemke (1990) refers to as the ‘thematics’ of classroom discourse, or what science teachers usually call the ‘content’. With emphasis on forms of language and patterns of participation, how conceptual elements are treated in discourse becomes a critical factor that has much to do with what students learn. When the focus is generally on forms of language and participation first, many worry that concepts and ideas are not fully treated or developed, especially in light of the time constraints that define much of what students experience in science classes. In analysis of classroom teaching and learning, the sociolinguistic approach bears the same criticism. Those concerned with improving school science often seek a richer analysis of conceptions, and relationships among them, as a baseline for understanding teaching and learning situations. For the most part, sociolinguistic studies do not focus on conceptual issues per se, but rather elaborate contextual factors that together determine the paths that many students take in these situations. In choosing this focus, these analyses fall short in the eyes of many science educators, missing what they see as the important part of teaching science. These two forms of analysis have been viewed in most circles as competing, since they make different claims about what is important, and thus how science should be taught. However, Cobb (1994) suggests that these two perspectives might better be viewed as complementary, since in the former, the individual is studied against the backdrop of the collective, and in the latter, the collective is the focus while individuals within it shape the contextual space. In essence, his argument suggests that, rather than limiting oneself to one form of analysis or another, the two forms share substantial ground. The only real difference between these two approaches is in what is foregrounded and what forms the backdrop. Each perspective informs the other, and taking them as separate, distinct, and irreconcilable means losing much of the analytical power of each. Taken together, he suggests, they may help us to learn more about what works and what doesn’t in classrooms. While Cobb suggested this synthesis in terms of analyses of classroom teaching and learning, I see his complementary view as holding considerable promise as a teaching approach, as well. In discussing his own rationale for the complementary view he suggests, Cobb cites Ball’s (1993) analysis of her own teaching of mathematics, in which she elaborates three dilemmas of teaching. In Cobb’s words, “...dilemmas of content, discourse, and community ‘arise reasonably from competing and worthwhile aims and from the uncertainties inherent in striving to attain them’ (p. 373). It would therefore seem that the aims of which she speaks and thus the pedagogical dilemmas reflect the tension between mathematical learning viewed as enculturation and as individual construction.” (p. l4) Just what a teacher believes about the way students learn shapes assumptions that undergird his or her design of instructional situations. Thus, one teacher might take a conceptual change approach in which conceptual activity is of primary importance; even in doing so, however, issues of cultural practice form important contexts in which conceptual material must be understood if the student is to be able to make meaningful use of it. In like manner, another teacher might focus on the cultural practices of a group of students as they investigate phenomena; in this setting, concepts and the practices around them are inextricably linked as well. So when students get together to negotiate meaning, whether they are seen as actively interpreting individuals who constitute processes individually and collectively, or whether they are seen as parts of a collective that together constitutes cultural and social practices makes a difference in how the teacher might structure tasks and roles, and what outcomes might be expected. And, teachers may hold both views, just foregrounding one now and the other later (depending on the goals they hold as important at any moment), much as researchers might do in structuring analyses of teaching and learning situations. Research Questions This is a study of a classroom in which I, as the teacher, was trying to enact the kinds of recommendations that Cobb would make. In my role as a researcher, I have attempted to tell this story in a way that makes substantial use of analytical perspectives and frameworks from both of these research traditions. I attempted to meld these two perspectives in order to more fully address the challenge of the two goals discussed above, in an observational study of an urban sixth grade science classroom in which students were learning about matter and molecules. In this effort, I chose to foreground the sociolinguistic approach, while landmarking the analysis with views of individuals’ conceptual work. The study was guided by the following research questions: 1. How did the construction of the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density proceed in the discourse system of the classroom community as a whole? In what ways did teacher and student privileging of mediated action influence the development of these concepts? 2. In what ways did eight individual students in this class take on the “identity kit” of science, as demonstrated by participation in classroom and collaborative group discourse and investigations about mass, volume, and density? How was the emerging discourse system of the classroom community and collaborative groups facilitative (or not facilitative) of their participation in the activity of describing substances, and especially their understanding of Mass, Volume and Density? Note that the first question focuses mainly on the story of the collective. It suggests that concepts can be socially generated and held, and that privileging is a social mechanism that has important bearing on this process. Yet, the emergence of concepts in a collective always, out of necessity, begins and is landmarked by individuals’ statements and efforts in the public domain. Thus, tracing the public construction of these concepts foregrounded the public actions of individuals within the collective in order to get a fix on just what the public form or understanding was at a given time. Rather than comparing individual differences in understanding, these differences were taken as indicative of a range of conceptual command at a given time. Over time, this range was expected to change, as elaborated below (see section II. ‘A Sociocultural View of Teaching and Leaming’). The second question focuses more on individuals as they operated within the collective. Here, I examined how each of these individuals functioned within the class. I attempted to characterize the ways in which they were aided by their participation in the social practices valued in the class, and the points at which they moved the class to a new level of social activity. In doing this, the actions of these individuals were examined within the contexts of task and social setting in order to develop a sense of the effects of this two- way relationship. A Sociocultural View of Teaching and Learning The teaching that occurred in the classroom under study was quite different from the traditional lecture-and-demonstration model. My goals of instruction centered on assisting students in their attempts to appropriate powerful new discourses in a variety of contexts. Creating these contexts to challenge students to take on the many facets of the "identity kit" represented by these discourses occurred over time, as I facilitated classroom interactions in the role of a leader of the classroom community of learners. In this role, I was a learner too, but also an expert in the field; as such, I became the "knowledgeable other" that Vygotsky (1967) saw as crucial to the processes of learning in social settings. I sometimes provided knowledge of the scientific canon (both procedural and conceptual) at the times and in the contexts in which I judged it was needed. At other times, I purposely stood back as students reasoned through problems of meaning and procedure. Students as peers sometimes served in the role of “knowledgeable other”, too, as interactions proceeded and they worked to describe and explain phenomena that in this case had to do with describing substances. In this classroom, I attempted to assist students in moving from the vernacular terms and usages (and relatively general concepts) that they brought from their own experiences, toward more precise scientific constructions that, for instance, would give them increasing power to describe and explain observed phenomena. This meant that as the classroom community encountered situations in which more precise or powerful language was needed, some forms were necessarily privileged (Wertsch, 1991) over others. Over time, I expected that the evolving discourse of the community would demand (and reflect) increasingly powerful attempts to describe and explain observed phenomena, and would give insights into the growing understandings of the membership. I conceptualized this goal in a simple graphic (see figure 1 below). / range of statements, ideas, conceptions (privileged forms) +— vernacular to scientific—e d) 829 instructional time E9 Figure 1: One representation of the goals of discourse-based science instruction Just as this graphic represents the goals of science instruction in this kind of setting, so too is it descriptive of the discourse-based activities of the classroom community over time. In this representation, the bottom boundary line of the range of statements, actions, and conceptions reflects the development of standards for adequacy in the discourse of the students. Hand in hand with the development of standards is the privileging of some forms 10 over others. It is not inconceivable that some students who do not take on new forms as they become valued in the community may find themselves outside of the range as represented here. These students, by virtue of the discourse they control, are excluded from negotiations of meaning because they don't "speak the language" that is valued by their peers in the community. Between the lines that define the range, students who are practicing the forms of discourse that are valued in the classroom at that particular time can be found. In locating these students within the range, we recall that discourses are acquired gradually over time and interactions; we hold a dynamic view of students herein (and elsewhere on the graphic!) as actively constructing new forms, attending to various features and details of the phenomena and the communications around them, and taking these interactions as the basis for rethinking, reworking, and reordering their understandings in unevenly paced and unevenly productive ways. Within this range we will find students who are struggling hard with certain aspects while holding apparently divergent conversations in which they adroitly persuade their peers or elaborate a position. The dynamic and personal nature of this process, interwoven as it is with the social aspects of communication and mediated action, cannot be understated here. The line at the top of the range represents the building of new, more powerful and scientific forms of discourse. Here students apprehend and integrate new information and strategies into their discourse, taking on the "identity kit" of the scientist in thought, action, and communication. This, too, is a messy process that occurs over the course of a range of interactions in time. Thus, at any given point in the instructional sequence, one might conceive of a range of accepted forms, realizing that among the membership of the community, students place themselves in this range by the forms of thought, action, and language that they use. This placement is in relation to the thoughts, actions, and language of the community at that time. For instance, at the outset of instruction (number 1 above) the range of students' ideas, language, and actions (in the class taken as a whole) in relation 11 to the task of describing substances is conceived as relatively wide. It includes a range of vernacular constructions and ways of acting and thinking, as well as some more scientific ones, since there will likely be, as in most heterogeneous classrooms, those few students who have had extensive and enriching experiences around science topics. It is also likely that, in such a classroom, there will be a few for whom science is anathema For the majority of students, it is likely that the discourse of choice will be the vernacular, common usages and terms that have served them well at home and in other school situations. Given the range of experiences with which students come to the instructional situation, then, the initial range of statements, actions, and conceptions would be relatively large. As students work on describing substances in significant ways, we would expect most to move along this continuum (number 2 above), as their repertoires of language-in- use, action, and thought come to include forms that are more useful in relation to their endeavors. We also hope that these students concomitantly broaden and sharpen their understandings of the related concepts and their applications in scientific terms. We assume here that students are both willing and able to alter the webs of understanding that they hold at the outset of instruction, and that the kinds and conditions of instruction are enabling in this quest. I see the process of privileging some forms of talk, action, and thought over others as ensuring this kind of movement. Necessarily, scientists value certain ways of talking, acting, and thinking around the activity of describing substances more than others. Generally speaking, those that are most productive and efficient, or those that are deeply culturally ingrained (and still relatively efficient) are valued over those that are less so. In a similar way, as the students experience the need for more precise and efficient ways of acting, thinking, and speaking in their work with substances, they and the teacher come to value certain of these that help them to make important distinctions or work more efficiently. When this happens, the range of acceptability is narrowed as standards for adequate terminology, use, and action are established. These standards emerge from the 12 struggles of the students and teacher to make sense of what they have done in the classroom. Students who do not pick up the newer and more accepted forms may, over time, be excluded from participation in future interactions, by virtue of their efforts being perceived as unhelpful, as inadequate, or as wide of the mark. When this happens, the dissonance that results can be like someone doing a polka in a room full of waltzers. While the dancers may not collide for some time (or at all), the two sets of movements are hardly complimentary; neither does much for the other. The music that is playing clearly favors and supports one of the two steps, and while the other may be accomplished by adaptation, it is not valued by potential partners doing the other step. In the classroom described herein, we shall see instances when the students actively privileged certain forms of language, thought, and action over others, as well as some instances in which I (the teacher) provided the impetus for privileging some forms. Over the span of instruction, I expected that the range of language, thought, and action would narrow. I also expected that this narrowing was as a result of these two processes, and that the resulting narrower range would reflect more of the scientific canon (number 3 above), by which I mean the generally accepted ways of talking, writing, and acting that scientists use when they set out to describe substances. This canon includes scientific terminology in specific uses, concepts related to the description of substances (described by some of the terminology!), and strategies and courses of action that are regarded as productive. One of the challenges of instruction, then, was to engage students in activities that would have the potential for meaning-building, and to further scaffold them along the continuum. While current thinking in science curricular reform generally recognizes the value of activities that approximate many of those that scientists undertake in scientific inquiry, a recently growing body of literature suggests that this value is optimized in situations in which students are involved in authentic inquiry that involves meta-views of themselves that make explicit the connections between their activity and their learning (Ball 13 1993, Lampert 1990, Ballenger 1994, Michaels & O’Connor 1990). These meta-views are typically developed by a variety of strategies and activities, including introductory instruction and discussion with the teacher and peers, periodic tasks which require students to attend to these connections, and reflection leading to discussion or writing about the activity and learning. This view of curriculum fits well with Gee's (1989) conception of discourses as multifaceted (hence his characterization of discourses as an "identity kit"). To Gee, discourses encompass all forms of textual interaction (where 'text" can be any form of language expression, or non-language expressions such as art or costume), and are thus complex and interwoven with the personae of the players. These players act with mediational means in the contexts of tasks within a classroom, situated in a school setting in a given community. They constitute discourses as they jointly construct understanding through social interaction. This is a study of students and their teacher acting in various social contexts within the larger sociocultural context of a science class in a public school. This classroom was studied as the students and teacher engaged in a particular kind of activity, that of scientific description of substances. My first purpose in conducting this study was to conduct a careful analysis of this classroom from a sociolinguistic point of view, to try to better understand the students’ interactions and their developing understandings. To further this goal, I selected eight target students (comprising two collaborative groups of four students each) as points of focus for studying the dynamic interplay between public forms of discourse, more private forms, and emerging command of the “tool kit” of scientific discourse, including thought, language, and action. 14 Learning About Mass, Volume, and Density as Enculturation Scientists continually seek to describe more fully the natural world in which we live. One part of this quest involves scientists who attempt to describe substances in precise ways. Over many years, scientists have accumulated a vast array of information related to substances they have encountered. And, as this base of information has grown, so have the means by which scientists learn about substances. Today, many complex and specialized instruments are available to scientists seeking to describe substances ever more precisely. Yet, all attempts at describing substances, whether simple or complex, focus on characterizing the properties of the substance. And, each substance is still characterized in terms of concepts that represent measurable properties, including mass, volume, and density. These particular properties have been a part of the repertoire of scientists who engage in this activity for many years. One product of many generations of work on describing substances are the numerous practices and ways of thinking that have to do with determining the mass, volume, and density of substances in efficient ways. These practices are a product of the social and historical settings in which they operate, and as such represent a kind of scientific culture. So, we might think of scientists today as living and working in (and daily creating and representing) a culture that includes ways of describing substances that are efficient and powerful to them and to other members of the community. These ways of describing substances are a mixture of relatively older practices that are still recognized in the community as the best ways to solve particular problems or answer certain questions, and newer practices that have been found more powerful, accurate, or efficient by the community. These practices are not limited to laboratory investigations and manipulations; 15 they include language practices which are a central feature of nearly every activity of the community. Douglas Barnes (1990) notes that Any group that meets frequently for work or play develops a language style of its own. This will only partly be comprised of technical terms needed for the shared activity; there is likely to be an 'in-group' way of putting things, cryptic because of shared assumptions and experience, comfortable for insiders but likely to rebuff and discourage outsiders. (54) While Barnes made these comments in reference to small groups who work together, I believe there is a kernel of truth here for those who work in larger communities comprised of smaller working groups like those Barnes considered. They, too, by virtue of shared assumptions, and common purposes and experiences, are likely to develop their own specialized language practices that reflect the values and priorities of the membership. This means that among scientists who investigate substances, close description along commonly a -upon parameters may be the norm, and that the language practices, ways of thinking, and central ideas and purposes that comprise these activities are likely to become specialized, include technical terms, and in some ways be less meaningful or accessible to those who do not share the experiences and assumptions of the community that created them. A primary difficulty for students attempting to learn science concepts in school settings is created when students must move from the set(s) of cultural norms for speech, thought, and action to which they are accustomed in other parts of their lives (particularly the home environment) into the ways of speaking, drinking, and acting that are characteristic of those who “do” science. These cultural differences are what makes much of science seem difficult or uninteresting to students, since the language and activities of the scientific community are different in form, purpose, and content from most of those that students encounter at home, in school, and around their neighborhoods. Teaching strategies like involving students in direct manipulation of science materials may draw many students in and actively engage them in the content to be taught. When the focus 16 changes to conceptual concerns, however, most students may still have difficulty making connections that would enable them to see the activity as important and worthy of effort. As noted above, involving students in discourse about scientific investigations or observed phenomena seems to hold promise for enabling many students to become familiar with the new set of social, cultural, and language practices of the scientist. This is especially true in settings in which the ideas of the students are valued and become central to classroom negotiations aimed at understanding. Talk, writing, and working together with models and real phenomena have, when taken together, the potential to engender and scaffold new understandings, as noted in a growing body of literature describing discourse-based instruction in science. Case materials and other studies (that look at students) so far have been largely aimed at characterizing the nature of classroom discourse, exploring the effectiveness of specific discourse strategies in instruction, telling the story of an individual student, or examining the effectiveness of a particular curriculum with a particular type or number of students. (Warren et al 1989, Michaels & O’Connor 1990, Driver et a1 1985, Roth & Rosaen 1990). The approach that this study takes may best be described in terms recently used by Wells (1991), Wertsch (1991), and others. Within the structure and purposes of given tasks, discourses are considered tools that facilitate cultural practices. A story may serve to illustrate. When I bought my first car, I quickly discovered that the engine was hungry for oil at every fill-up. After a day of diagnosis, the need for rebuilding the engine became evident. My exposure to engine repair and maintenance to this point had only consisted of a few brief encounters with spark plugs and fan belts, but with the encouragement of a friend who offered his tools, garage, and expertise, I set out to get the job done. Prior to this series of events, I had used a screwdriver numerous times, to insert and remove screws and bolts of various kinds in various settings, and also as a chisel and pry tool. In hindsight, I would characterize these uses as rather inexpert, but good enough to get these tasks done most of the time. I used the tool when I had to, but did not seek out activities 17 where this was the case, feeling that there were others in our family who were better suited to this kind of activity than I was. Among the set of all those who use screwdrivers, those who rebuild engines and do similarly specialized and complex engine repairs are a small subset. Those who do these kinds of repairs often (we call them mechanics) generally have substantial experience, and often specialized training, to be able to perform these repairs well and efficiently, and with reasonable certainty of the desired result (an engine that works). In the course of learning about and repeatedly performing these repairs, mechanics develop a sense of the ways to use a screwdriver that yield the most satisfactory results. While there is some variation among mechanics in the ways they hold, align, and twist the tool in order to apply or remove fasteners, there are also a number of actions for which screwdrivers are not considered the right tool, among them prying and chiseling. The concerns here are that the tool, when used for these purposes, may yield unsatisfactory results in those activities; these concerns are founded on the design of the tool itself, and the kinds of forces for which this design is made. Forces other than those for which the screwdriver is made may result in a broken or bent tool, an unfinished task, or even injury to the user. Outside of the field of mechanics, however, are a vast number of people who pick up and use screwdrivers as tools to enable them to accomplish something in their particular situations. Some of these actions are tightly proscribed, as in electronics repair, while others are less so, as in boarding up a doorway. In all cases, however, the setting, task, and user determine the appropriate range of uses for the tool, as well as the particular kind of screwdriver (tool) that might be used. Different communities of users will encounter different demands to which they will apply a tool in different ways. Many of these ways may only be valued in one community, and seem foreign or even incorrect in others. In similar fashion, the language and practices of science, including relevant concepts, terms, actions, and habits of mind, may be considered tools that scientists use in their attempts to describe, explain, and predict the natural world around them. When a l8 scientist sets out to describe a substance, she or he uses a set of tools that are valued among those in the scientific community who describe substances. These culturally valued tools include ways of using language, acting, and thinking. Among these tools are the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density. Scientists whose work is to describe substances have developed relatively consistent ways of using these terms. These begin with well-defined ideas of the ways in which Mass, Volume, and Density are descriptive of a substance, including what property of the substance is represented by each, distinctions between them, how each might be determined, and an understanding of relationships between these concepts. While there are certainly many other concepts and methods that scientists use to describe substances, mass, volume, and density are central to scientific description. Many other descriptive measures depend on a full or partial description in these terms. Tracking these concepts in a study that foregrounded mediated action in the social milieu of the classroom necessitated some methodological innovation. Primarily, this involved the selection of eleven ‘episodes’ of classroom interaction that spanned the first seven weeks of the eleven-week instructional sequence. These episodes represent snapshots of each of several social configurations in the classroom, and the kinds of discourse and action that accompanied each, as the students worked on problems and concepts related to describing substances. Each of the episodes includes a significant piece of data from the discourse system of the classroom, in the form of transcripts and artifacts from the public arena of the whole class, and from relatively more private settings like groups of four, working pairs of students, or individuals’ logbooks. In selecting episodes, my primary goal was to trace the emergence and evolution of language, thought, and action in each of these settings within the classroom. Pre- and post-instruction conceptual tests and clinical interviews were administered during the first and last weeks of the sequence. These two sets of data had some importance in tracking conceptual understandings of individuals, but the episodes themselves were most instrumental in my efforts to trace collective and individual l9 understandings during the course of instruction. While analysis focused on these data, none were analyzed in isolation. Often, written artifacts generated during the course of dialogue were examined as tapes of the dialogue were viewed. In like manner, the actions of individuals were often noted in reconstructing sequences of interaction, in order to verify and elaborate my understanding of the import of these sequences. The full extent of methodological considerations is described in Chapter 3 and further elaborated in examination of the data in Chapter 4. Description of the Study and the Unit of Analysis This study examines teaching and learning in a middle school science classroom. I examined video and audio tapes of classroom sessions, student logbook entries and other written work, group products like posters and presentations, and teacher reflections taped after each class session in order to develop rich and contextualized descriptions of the teacher and students as they thought, spoke, wrote, and acted their ways through the instructional sequence. In such a rich set of data characterized by many kinds of evidence about a sizable range of kinds of interactions (individual/ logbook, working pairs, groups of four, whole- class, group/poster, group/whole-class, group/written text, and others), a primary concern for the researcher is selection of a unit of analysis that enables a systematic examination of a representative sample in order to formulate a picture of the interactions that is true (with high degrees of certainty) to the larger set. In the data collected for this study, the range of interactions was of particular concern. In Wei/11nd, J. V. Wertsch (1991) suggests that the appropriate unit of analysis for the study of human interaction (which he terms 'mediated action', and includes language, thought, and action) is individual(s) acting in social context(s) with mediational means. In proposing this unit of analysis, Wertsch points out that this is the smallest unit 20 that accounts for all of the things that are essential for the study of interaction. Smaller or less inclusive units, such as the individual, discount interactions which are by nature social. Contexts as a unit fail to account adequately for individuals and their actions. A study of actions in isolation likewise denies the context and individual considerations. Wertsch notes that the sociocultural model of mind that he proposes represents a synthesis and extension of the work of Vygotsky and Bakhtin, theorists whose work rests firmly on convictions about the social nature of thought and action, including interactions in which learning takes place. Using this unit of analysis, this study aims at telling the rich and engaging story of what happened in one sixth grade science classroom. The story will be told as a series of episodes, each of which represents mediated action. Episodes were selected to cross the many different social configurations (and thus learning contexts) in the classroom. In each setting, I will examine four different aspects of mediated action. 0 the nature of the group or individual engaged in the action and 0 what he or she (or they) were doing, using 0 what kinds of mediational means, including all manner of language, intellectual tools and concepts, and classroom equipment or props, in 0 what social context, including immediate task, authority, and role structures, as well as larger group, classroom and school contexts. In this classroom, the goal of instruction was to assist students in moving from their common ways of talking, drinking, and acting in relation to the natural world towards interactions more representative of a scientific world view and approach. In short, classroom activities were designed to help students command new and more powerful scientific discourses by involving them in collaborative activity in which their own ideas about observed phenomena played a central role. In attempting to scaffold this transition, the teacher worked to create an environment which reflected some aspects of working groups of scientists. Specifically, four kinds of activities that reflected the work of scientists who are describing substances were presented by the teacher, and became a 21 framework within which the discourse-based interactions in the classroom were structured. These activities included 0 developing Techniques 0 making and recording Observations 0 looking for Patterns in recorded data ' developing Explanations for observed phenomena My analysis of the many kinds of interactions that ensued in the course of the unit was also contextualized within this framework. Thus, in this analysis, I attempted to focus on the kind and nature of interactions in which students and teacher were engaged, and to characterize these interactions in relation to each other and the evolving discourse of the classroom. This discourse was often shaped by my own action and language, as I attempted to scaffold students in their negotiations of meaning and their attempts to build new understandings around the activity of the classroom. Systematic examination of evidence, included repeated viewing of videotapes in conjunction with students’ individual and group written work, was undertaken in order to characterize the nature of the interactions in the classroom context. One of my purposes in targeting interactions in this classroom was to gather evidence about (and subsequently characterize) the development of intersubjective understandings of the nature and purposes of the activities in which the students and teacher were involved. Intersubjective interactions are those interactions in which the interacting individuals share attention, recognize a common purpose or goal, and develop shared understanding of the subject in context (Rommetveit, 1990). Rommetveit notes that intersubjective relationships are truly dialogical in nature, meaning that they assume two or more players attending to the same idea or purpose in the interaction. In the instructional sequence under study, I tell the story of my own teaching, as well as the stories of students learning in my classroom. Included in this story are my representations of each of a series of activities which comprised school versions of science 22 that were representative (in some ways) of the work that scientists would do in describing substances. In telling this story, I used classroom vignettes, materials, and teacher reflections to reconstruct snapshots which reflected my own (teacher’s) understandings of the nature and purposes of the activity over time. Against this backdrop, I placed student enactments of a series of activities. Using transcripted evidence from talk, individual students' logbook entries, and group products, I constructed pictures that reflected the students' sense of what these activities are about (their goals). In holding these two kinds of pictures (teacher and student) in tension, I examined the evolving senses of purpose over the span of the instructional sequence, in all cases seeking corroboration across the range of data types in order to reduce uncertainty in my analysis. The Analytical Frame: Four Dimensions of Discourse Four dimensions of classroom discourse were selected for study, in order to characterize the emergent individual and group understandings. Each is discussed in some detail below. The dimensions studied were: 0 W the students and teacher brought to the activity 0 standards they applied in language use, validation of data, and other activities 0 mm (including all manner of tools) they used 0 the W of their language and action over time. The portrait that emerged from this particular examination was one of the teacher establishing (and subsequently modifying as needed) initial W for classroom activity that were intended to scaffold the students into deep engagement with the phenomena observed. As the instructional sequence progressed, and as the students engaged, the teacher's purposes moved beyond engagement to include careful and directed study of the observed system, and eventually to characterizing that system in terms of patterns that emerged from the collected observations of all of the groups in the class. In making these transitions, he focused on consensus as the basis for decisions that were 23 made in the class about the veracity of claims that students made about the system, based on observational data. Just as students encountered the teacher's representations of purpose in each of the many tasks and activities in this unit, they owned these activities by populating them with their own goals and purposes (Bakhtin, in Ballenger). This meant that the students (individually, as well as in pairs or larger groups) made sense of each activity by figuring out what to do; what actions, language events, and thoughts would get them "done" with the activity. In situations where students worked in pairs or groups, pictures emerged that showed the different goals and purposes that students held in working on classroom tasks, and some of the ways in which these multiple purposes interacted in groups working on a common task. In some of these groups, an intersubjective understanding emerged among some of the members, but commonly the task was completed with multiple purposes and goals held in tension. A second aspect of this instructional sequence that I wanted to characterize was the students' evolving use of W in their attempts to describe substances. As the sequence unfolded and the students' and teacher's activities focused more intently on describing the system under study, I wanted to examine the students' developing control over skills, experimental tools, techniques, scientific concepts and related terminology, believing that their use and command of these and other mediational means reflected some of their emerging understandings about the system, and about the activity of describing substances. In particular, in situations in which students were working together in pairs or groups of four, I tried to examine instances in which the players attempted to scaffold or challenge each other on one or more of these grounds. In doing this, I repeatedly examined sets of evidence together (including language and action from video tapes, as well as individual written work and group products), to closely characterize student action and thought while maintaining a rich picture of the overall interactions and the larger contexts of classroom, task, and sequence of tasks. 24 A further aspect of this instructional sequence that I examined related directly to the scientific nature of the activities in which the teacher and the students were involved. When scientists set out to describe substances, much of what they do reflects an understanding of the need to describe substances in ways that are consistent with current scientific practice (as defined by the larger scientific community of which they are a part), and in ways that build on what is known or readily observed about the substance. Essentially, there is a connectedness and logic to their actions, so that each strategy or procedure that the scientist employs builds synergistically on previous ones to define and describe the substance(s) in meaningful ways. Students who have not had experience in the set of cultural practices that comprise the scientists' approach to describing substances generally do not command enough of the scientists' "tool kit" to link activities in this way. As a result, many of the courses of action and concomitant uses of language vary substantially, and some are less productive than others in describing substances. In this instructional sequence, the teacher's goals and purposes were transformed by the students into their own senses of what they were about. The teacher walked a line between restricting the activity to ensure productive results (at the risk of "losing" in terms of student engagement), and allowing a wide range of activity that ensured engagement (at the risk of not seeing any productive results in the set). Generally, the teacher sought to reconcile these extremes by structuring tasks that focused on a specific area of endeavor and required a specific kind of product, but allowed students considerable latitude in creating their own paths to these products. This kind of task structure has been termed an open problem space (Palincsar et al, 1993). One of the typical results of the open problem spaces that I observed was that different groups of students often presented results that reflected the kinds of processes that they had enacted in the course of completing the task. In a classroom with many groups, presentation of these results often highlighted differences in underlying assumptions about the activities from whence they came. 25 In examining the unfolding instructional sequence, I was interested in trying to characterize the attempts of the students in terms of a kind of internal logic, or consistency across different aspects of a task or set of tasks. I looked for evidence that individuals or groups held understandings about the connectedness of new efforts to previous ones, and the relationships that existed between these efforts in building accurate and powerful descriptions of substances. As I examined these classroom interactions, I was also interested in how the students, as individuals, in pairs, or in groups of four, developed and applied standards for scientific work. Just as the teacher scaffolded the class by privileging certain thought, language, and action over others, I was interested in the ways that students might privilege interactions in similar ways. In particular, I was interested in the ways in which particular mediational means and their uses might become accepted and privileged over time, establishing new thresholds for acceptance of interactions as productive in group and whole-class situations. These aspects (developing standards, use of mediational means, internal logical consistency between actions, and an understanding of the nature and purposes of the activity) became a series of filters through which I examined some of the many interactions that comprised this instructional sequence. Each tells something about the actions of the students and teacher, and gives an incomplete picture of the students’ developing ownership of the identity kit of science. Together, they paint pictures that are, in my estimation, compelling portraits of some students who succeed in taking on this new identity kit, and others who have far less success. In the latter case, these pictures give us strong evidence to explain the continued marginalization of some students, even in discourse-based instructional settings. But, they also give us hope, by helping us to understand why school science is so difficult for some of these students. CHAPTER 2 Knowing and Learning: A Conceptual Change Perspective: The conceptual change perspective follows the tradition of Piaget in regarding knowledge as individually held and socially validated. In this view, knowledge itself is information of various kinds, including cognitive organizing structures, that are appropriated through various kinds of effort. Thus, in learning, the sorts of mental activities and demands that a learner encounters are determiners of what is learned and how well. Yet, learning is not seen solely as an individual, cerebral process. In order for new information to be truly learned, it must be integrated into what the learner already knows, and this happens when it is validated in social interaction. To some, this means that it must be ‘applied’, although others frame this process in terms that are less mechanistic and restrictive. They might say that the learner ‘makes sense’ of the information in social interaction with text, peers, or adults. This sensemaking is often characterized as incorporating new information into existing webs of understanding and connectedness, and making necessary adjustments in old knowledge as well. In this view of learning, conceptual processes take primary importance. While context and interaction are noted as important factors, the primary focus of conceptual change research has been on the cognitive demands that students face. For instance, in the instructional unit examined in this study, the central concepts were mass, volume, and density. Conceptual change researchers would see the kinds and qualities of the challenges that students faced in relation to these concepts as having much to do with whether they learn these concepts, and if they do, how well. The concepts themselves are conceived as interacting with other concepts and ideas that each of the students already holds, what Posner and colleagues term the ‘conceptual ecology’ of the learner (Posner et al, 1982). 26 27 This ecology, or structured understanding, is similar in some ways to the idea of schema , the mental structures, like templates or maps, into which new information is fit (Anderson, 1977); these map-like structures change (and thus the relationships between established ideas changes as well), sometimes radically, as new information is added and old reordered or discarded. Even though social validation is recognized as important, learning is fn'st seen as “a process of active individual construction” (Cobb, 1994). Posner et al (1982) describe a distinction between two kinds of learning, which they term assimilation and accommodation. Assimilation occurs when “students use existing concepts to deal with new phenomena” (212). In this kind of situation, new information either adds breadth or depth to existing structures, by supplying new examples or information that fills in or fills out an existing world-view. They noted that Often, however, the students’ current concepts are inadequate to allow him to grasp some new phenomenon successfully. Then the student must replace or reorganize his central concepts. This more radical form of conceptual change we call accommodation (212). Strike and Posner later (1992) argued that, “People do not accommodate when assimilation is still reasonable” (149). They characterized a decade of research in this tradition as indicating that four conditions (which they and their colleagues had suggested in 1982) are commonly accepted as necessary for radical conceptual change to occur (for a more complete discussion of these conditions and the research tradition that supports them, see Strike & Posner, 1992). They are: 1. There must be dissatisfaction with current conceptions. 2. A new conception must be intelligible. 3. A new conception must appear initially plausible. 4. A new conception should suggest the possibility of a fruitful research program. So, in order for this more radical transformative kind of learning to occur, certain conditions are desirable. Central to these are situations in which students encounter 28 observed phenomena or accumulated data that directly conflict with ideas and concepts that they hold to be true, in order to create dissatisfaction with their conceptions. In classrooms, this kind of conceptual conflict (Hewson & Hewson, 1984; Nussbaum & Novick, 1982) typically occurs in carefully orchestrated situations created specifically for the situation by the teacher. However, the design of these situations is critical. A class of students may present literally dozens of different conceptual arrangements for a given concept situated among related ones. Instructional design that hinges on directly confronting the relationships between concepts becomes difficult, because of the difficulty in tailoring instruction to individuals’ configurations. So, while conceptual conflict is seen as essential for radical reordering of webs of understanding, it is a condition that is difficult to create for an entire classroom of students, or even the typical smaller working group of three or four students. Doing so depends on the teacher’s accurate reading of the students’ conceptual ecologies, some strong commonalities in these for students working together, and the design of a well-defmed and engaging experience to confront the naive conceptions. With the focus on the individual students that is assumed in a conceptual change perspective, students’ understandings and ideas about the topics under study are important in two ways. First, they are the place that instruction should start. A significant body of research documenting common conceptions held by students has emerged over the last two decades, with heaviest emphasis on the physical sciences (Driver 1985, as well as teacher guides from the Institute for Research on Teaching at Michigan State University, cited in a later portion of this chapter). This research can form a significant resource for teachers as they think about and begin to design classroom curricula and instructional situations around their students’ ideas and conceptions. Having a notion of common ideas and approaches, as well as common difficulties that students encounter, has enabled some teachers to more adequately plan for instruction and to meet institutional demands for advanced ordering of materials or coordinating instruction among a team of teachers. 29 A second way in which students’ ideas and conceptions are important in conceptual change concerns the way in which they influence students’ developing understandings of science-related topics. Research has indicated that these ideas often form a kind of “filter” through which students view phenomena and instructional events. Included herein are classroom studies that reveal how students’ conceptions of particular subjects like chemical change (Hesse & Anderson 1992), and students’ ideas in introductory-level physics (Clement, 1982) interact with instruction designed to directly confront these conceptions. In a similar way, Eaton (1984) and colleagues studied how students’ ideas about light interfered with the ideas presented in instruction, even though teachers were aware of their ideas and designed instruction to enable conceptual change. One lesson that emerges from this work is that students do not come to a state of dissatisfaction with their own theories and explanatory frameworks easily (Watson & Konicek 1990, Clement 1982). Students’ naive conceptions are quite durable and persistent, even in the face of repeated observable evidence that contradicts them. Hence, conceptual conflict must be much more than momentary and fleeting, but rather of such magnitude and duration as to cause the student to see his or her own ideas or theories as dysfunctional or inadequate over a significant span of time and experience. Thus, creating sufficient dissatisfaction with the students’ own conceptions is one major challenge in teaching for conceptual change. And, conceptual conflict must be coupled with other conditions that support radical reordering of webs of understanding if conceptual change is to occur. Teaching: A Conceptual Change Approach In classrooms, then, conceptual change instruction usually focuses on creating and sustaining these conditions in such a way as to support students’ attempts to reason out, or make sense of, the sources of conceptual conflict. Again, this means that conceptual change instruction necessarily begins where the students are. Finding out what students 30 believe, and how they explain or make sense of observed phenomena, is always an early step. Once the students’ ideas have been elicited and fleshed out, events or phenomena that cannot be easily explained using the students’ understandings become a part of the instructional sequence. Students are given cause to reflect on their own ideas and the observed phenomena, and often are encouraged to propose alternative explanations or ideas. Finally, with guidance from the teacher, students select and work with plausible new ideas in order to better understand and explain the observed phenomena. This process takes time, and does not fit well with traditional school science curricula that demand that students and teacher “cover” vast amounts of factual material in limited amounts of time. Thus, the kinds of curricular priorities that the teacher reflects are essential components in conceptual change instruction. Many of the individual strategies and approaches that are valued in creating conditions for conceptual change fit well with Collins’ notion of cognitive apprenticeship (Collins et a1 1989). This is distinguished from traditional apprenticeship: ...our term, cognitive apprenticeship, refers to the focus of the learning- through-guided—experience on cognitive and metacognitive, rather than physical, skills, and processes. (457) Specific features of this kind of situation, according to Collins and colleagues, include “the extemalization of processes that are usually canied out internally” (ibid.), including problem-solving processes used by experts. Of significance in this extemalization are “the development of self-correction and -monitoring skills” (458). In classrooms, this means that reflection includes more than just the ideas and concepts under study, but also the physical and cognitive processes employed in studying them This is one of two general attributes of cognitive apprenticeships cited by Daiute & Dalton (1993), which they call reflectivity. The authors (Collins et a1, 1989) propose a goal of this kind of apprenticeship: 31 We propose that cognitive apprenticeship should extend situated learning to diverse settings so that students learn how to apply their skills in varied contexts. (459) Thus the concepts, as well as the strategies and processes employed in using them, are applied across multiple contexts, so that students develop a greater sense of the possibilities and limits of their application (Michaels & O’Connor 1990). It is this kind of greater sense that supports radical reordering of conceptual networks, and the building of broad and robust new ones, that is central to the conceptual change model. Daiute & Dalton (1993) cite this as a second general attribute of cognitive apprenticeship, which they call generativity. Notice that the focus here is on conceptual content and cognitive processes; social settings and interactions are important contextual factors in this picture. Recommendations for Teaching from Conceptual Change Research Specific teacher guides and instructional units (mentioned above) were developed across a wide range of topics by researchers and teachers in the Institute for Research on Teaching at Michigan State University, to assist teachers in designing instruction for conceptual change. In biology, these included respiration (Anderson et al 1987), photosynthesis (Roth 1985, Roth & Anderson 1987), and respiration and photosynthesis together (Bishop et al 1986), as well as ecology (Brehm et a1 1986). In the physical sciences, teacher guides for light (Anderson & Smith 1983, Eaton et al 1986), heat (Hollon & Anderson 1986), and the kinetic molecular theory (Berkheimer et al 1988a, 1988b) were produced. In each of the guides, ideas about common student conceptions formed the basis for specific recommendations for teaching the particular topic(s). These recommendations were then supported with classroom-ready materials designed to support teaching on a conceptual change model. Some researchers undertook cataloguing and probing students’ ideas as a starting point for conceptual change instruction and curriculum development (Carramazza et al 1981, Stewart 1982, Driver et a1 1985, Hewson 1986). From these catalogues, they were 32 able to suggest fruitful entrypoints and avenues for instruction on specific topics. Significant contributions along this line of work continue to be made, as researchers and teachers work together to catalogue common student conceptions in many other areas of science (for example, Hynd et a1 1994, Gallegos et al 1994, Galili et al 1993, Benson et a1 1993, Kesidou & Duit 1993). These studies support conceptual change instruction as they enable the creation of instructional materials designed to address common conceptions held by students. The provision of such materials is regarded as critical support for teachers attempting to implement conceptual change strategies in their classrooms (Smith et al 1993). A second body of classroom research from the conceptual change perspective has revealed a number of teaching strategies associated with conceptual change instruction (Smith et a1 1993, Roth et al 1987) and conceptual learning in science (Anderson & Smith 1983). Some of these strategies are (from Smith et al 1993): 0 eliciting and responding to students’ misconceptions 0 focusing on explanations - probing after student responses 0 balancing open-ended and closed discussions 0 providing practice and application Smith & Anderson (1987) had earlier found that teachers’ use of these strategies was most strongly supported by the availability of specially designed instructional materials for conceptual change. Case studies that focused on particular topics have supported this finding, as well as indicating specific conceptual areas that present difficulties for students and for teachers (Smith & Anderson 1984, Minstrell 1984, Hesse & Anderson 1990). In addition, Kathleen Roth’s 1985 dissertation study examined how science texts, central to most traditional science instruction, influenced students’ ideas about food for plants. Knowing that texts are a central feature in most science classrooms, she and Anderson (Roth & Anderson 1988) later suggested specific strategies for using texts in promoting conceptual change learning. In these studies, as in others noted above, 33 contextual factors formed the background against which specific instructional strategies were studied. While choices in design and approach were seen as critical in all of the resulting recommendations and materials, an underlying assumption in this body of research was that when the right conditions were present, students would be enabled (and willing) to do the cognitive work required to radically alter their conceptions, as well as the webs of understanding that they constituted. This cognitive approach has clearly moved us to science instruction that serves many students well. Even so, some recent researchers have claimed that while conceptual change research up to this time has been helpful, it is based on an oversimplified view of students, teaching, and learning. Pintrich et al (1993), point to the necessity of considering motivational beliefs of students, and other contextual factors, in addition to the cognitive aspects of student understanding in promoting conceptual change. Lee & Anderson (1993) examined conceptual change in relation with task engagement and motivational issues. Each of these studies supports revisions in the original theory of conceptual change suggested by two of the authors, Strike and Posner (1992), which essentially focus on the need to consider ‘motives and goals and the institutional and social sources of them’ (148) both in studying conceptual change classrooms, and in designing instruction to promote conceptual change. Sociolinguistic critiques of conceptual change include the need to examine motivational issues, but also history, social justice, and culture. Ogbu (1992), for instance, studied issues of differential access and motivation in multicultural settings. Gee (1994) examined how enculturation proceeds as students learn to ‘talk science’ in discourse-based instruction, and what this means in terms of students’ understanding. This last approach, which focuses on students’ appropriation and use of cultural tools in developing their own conceptual understandings in science, makes recommendations that most closely fit our own goals in designing the science instruction studied and reported here. 34 The curriculum for the larger 4-year project, of which this study is a subset was based on Wiggles (Berkheimer et al 1988a, 1988b), and substantially followed the recommendations therein for teaching about the kinetic molecular theory. The modifications we chose to make centered around our conviction that social negotiation of meaning among peers was a powerful tool that we wanted to explore in our instruction. This choice, essentially, reflects our commitments to a sociolinguistic view of teaching and learning. Knowing and Learning: A Sociolinguistic Perspective: Sociolinguistic researchers regard knowledge as socially constituted and then internalized, a formulation that is credited to Vygotsky (1967) and elaborated by colleagues and followers in this tradition (Rogoff & Lave 1984, Wertsch 1985). In this view, what counts as knowledge is determined by the culture and social milieu in which it is situated. Thus, interaction-- which includes thought, language, and action, all taken together- is essential for learning, and is the determiner of what can be learned in any situation. Central to this view is the role of language in social contexts; the nature, breadth, and depth of language-intensive explorations are seen as indicators of potential and opportunity in teaching and learning situations in classrooms, and elsewhere (Wells 199 1 ). James Wertsch (1991) introduced the idea of mediational means as the intellectual and physical tools that a person or group uses in acting in a social setting. By Wertsch’s account, the range of tools available to an individual or group at any given time in a setting can be enormous; the bounds would seem to be determined only by imagination. But, the use of mediational tools is generally culturally influenced, both in terms of which tool is valued in a setting, and in terms of the ways in which it is employed, as well. The more appropriate, valuable, and efficient uses of tools for accomplishing specific tasks or working towards shared goals are valued over less efficient or productive ones. 35 Thus, learning involves the use of new and old tools in a particular setting (such as a classroom). These tools necessarily include language, concepts, larger themes, as well strategies, habits of mind, and specific techniques or routines that are functional and efficient within the setting and range of interactions. They also include the kind of physical tools that one might also call ‘equipment’ (or, in education, ‘manipulatives’). The tools that are available, and the tools that are seen as appropriate, are often determined by the setting, the identities of the actors in the setting, and the kinds of interactions that are likely to ensue in the setting. An overarching instructional goal in this view of classroom teaching is involving students in reasoning in multiple discourses (Michaels & O’Connor 1990) in learning any subject. Gee (1991a) defines a discourse as: a socially accepted association among ways of using language, of drinking, and of acting that can be used to identify oneself as a member of a socially meaningful group or "social networ "...Think of discourse an "identity kit" which comes complete with the appropriate costume and instructions on how to act and talk so as to take a particular role that others will recognize. (Gee, 1991a, p. 3) Thus, as students reason in multiple discourses, they try on the identity kits, including language, thought, and action, that come with that discourse. In this study I examined students’ language, thought and action as they worked individually or in groups on problems having to do with describing substances. In each of these settings, interactions of students with other students, students with text, students with teacher, and students with equipment and materials was examined. In each of these settings, what the students had the opportunity to learn was seen as intimately connected to their interactions, particularly those in which they used new mediational means, connected or extended ideas from one segment to another, explicitly argued from logic, or held themselves or each other accountable to particular standards. In examining these interactions, a principal issue was the creation of a ‘dialogic context’ (Bakhtin 1981, Nystrand 1992) in which meaning was co-constructed by teacher 36 and students together. In this kind of classroom setting, students were challenged to build fluency and power across cultural settings- across the cultural norms of home, school, school subjects, and the disciplines associated with them. They were challenged to do this as they negotiate, first in their own words, and in progressively more purposeful and sophisticated ways, the meanings and rules for solving problems of understanding in the classroom. This meant that, in the case of school science, their learning is seen in terms of their abilities to appropriate and use the intellectual, linguistic, and physical tools associated with the scientific enterprise. Teaching: A Sociolinguistic Approach: Lemke (1990) proposed that scientists, by virtue of their world view and shared habits of mind and intellectual tools, might be seen as constituting their own culture. In science, the ways of going about solving problems, the kinds of problems that are valued, and the common shared assumptions about what counts as a solution to a problem, are quite different from the like dimensions of interaction and endeavor that are common in the homes, neighborhoods, and work environments of most pe0ple who are not scientists. Thus, one might say that the problem facing science educators is one of assisting students in moving from the common ways of talking, thinking, and acting that they bring with them to the school setting, into the ways of doing these things that are common to the scientific community and endeavor. In attempting to scaffold these students into greater scientific literacy, our task was to assist students in taking on the identity kit (Gee 1991a) of the scientist. This meant creating situations in which they were engaged in meaningful discourse, and helping them to take on the midst and world view of science and scientists. In this way, students were encouraged to learn about, experience, value, and take on for themselves some of the ways that scientists operate in the world. This was a process of enculturation into some of the practices of science, as well as into a scientific world view. 37 The activities that one would be likely to observe in classrooms in which this kind of teaching is the goal necessarily look different from the activities one nright see in a traditional classroom. While there is considerable variation in the ways that sociolinguistically based teaching plays out, and thus in the underlying rules and assumptions in play in these classrooms, by looking at studies that describe instructional events and settings I have identified five commitments that these classrooms and teaching situations seem to share. What differs between them is the priority given to each commitment, as well as the identities of the players, the subject at hand, and the larger social settings within which the classroom is nested. The five common commitments are: 1. A commitment to W 2. A commitment to thermmrtancesfstudenmndrsms in learning- 3. A commitment to W 4. A commitment to W 5. A commitment to W. While I have listed these commitments as separate and distinct, there are many ways in which each depends on others. It may be fully possible to institute one of these commitments in a classroom without committing to any of the others, but this seems to me to be rare; I have not seen examples of these commitments being parsed out from one another in the broader research literature of descriptive classroom studies. And, because these commitments are interwoven with one another and somewhat interdependent, in sociolinguistically based classrooms one is more likely to see three or four of these strongly evident, if not all five. Just as these commitments are important to those who teach from a sociolinguistic perspective, they also frame important perspectives from which these classrooms are often observed. Said another way, these commitments lay out some of the major arenas within which research is conducted in sociolinguistic classrooms. As I will elaborate below, 38 when one or more of these commitments becomes the central focus of classroom research, often several others must also be amply described as a part of the research report. Thus, placing issues against contexts in reporting can present substantial challenges to the researcher; what often results are rich and compelling descriptions of classroom interactions, replete with transcribed talk, student writing, and annotations that indicate important actions and players. As a result of this dynamic, most sociolinguistic studies of classrooms describe many aspects of the daily life therein. It is often a combination of these aspects that come to the fore in the description, as the observer attempts to convey a rich sense of the situation to the reader. Still, the centrality of these commitments to language- and interaction-based instruction and research lends focus and orientation to each. Further consideration of each of these commitments, together with some examples of the ways in which researchers have examined classrooms in light of each, follows. Many researchers have exanrined the critical role that language, and the process of enculturation into particular ways of writing, speaking, acting, and thinking, play in learning in various classroom settings. In our own research group, for instance, Holland (1994) examined the discourse opportunities available to a Hispanic male student operating within a collaborative group of four students in a sixth grade science classroom. These opportunities were seen as critical in developing conceptual understanding, which was conceived to depend on his participation in significant group interactions about the meaning of phenomena related to states of matter and the arrangement of molecules. In a related study, Kurth et al (1994) noted the ways in which differences between conversational styles prevalent in home cultures of some students and those that are common in the classroom may be important factors in influencing the degree to which minority students are empowered or disempowered in collaborative group settings. ‘The case of Carla’ tells a compelling story of a good student who often had good ideas that 39 would move her group forward, and backed them with solid evidence and reasoning. Her groupmates, however, did not value them because she played by a different set of linguistic and interactional rules than they. Even so, Carla maintained deep engagement with science content, despite being silenced by the dissonance between her language use and that of her groupmates. Michaels & O’Connor (1990) studied Haitian Creole students in a bilingual program, as they learned about the concept of balance by investigating relationships between various lengths of the balance arm, and various weights placed in the pans of the balance. The researchers paint vivid pictures of the students’ approaches to the problem, characterization of it, and the negotiations that ensue -- often in Creole as well as English. They further examined the ways in which the interplay of these languages influenced what the students took as important, and the ways in which claims they made in the context of the classroom were culturally nested. By understanding much of the students’ own home culture, they were able to examine enculturation into social practices of the scientific community from a unique and fruitful perspective. Significant among studies that examine language in the classroom is Lemke’s (1990) W. A social semiotic study of the role of language in maintaining power and authority differentials in classrooms, Lemke’s detailed move-by-move analysis gives us insight into how common patterns of language use determine much of what is learned in classrooms. While Lemke’s study was not limited to classrooms in which discourse-based instruction was the rule, it does give us important insights into the ways that the language of instruction can influence what messages students get about the nature of subject matter. While Lemke studied teacher-student interchanges and some student-student interchanges in more traditional settings, Gordon Wells (1991) examined talk in a collaborative group of nine- and ten-year-olds as they negotiated about refraction and reflection during a unit on light. Wells’ analysis first provides a detailed picture of how 40 the group’s talk and interaction unfolded, as they developed common ways of speaking about these concepts. Then he considered what was learned, and how the context of the talk influenced its productivity for the students. Noting that the talk was conversational in nature, Wells proposed two main ways in which the context of preceding talk influences what follows: first, by providing a pool of words and phrases that can be drawn upon in subsequent turns, and secondly by creating a conversational framework that, at each point, sets up strong expectations for both the form and the content of immediately succeeding moves (15). This kind of analysis, coupled with the elaborated pictures of classroom discourse that accompany it, gives us some insight into a few of the ways that talk in classrooms may support the developing understandings of students. At the same time, we see pictures of developing discourse systems, as negotiated by the participants. Daiute & Dalton (1993) elaborated our understanding of the role of talk in important ways in their study of third graders learning to write. By examining interactions in pairs of students working together on stories, they characterized collaborative interaction as dependent upon three important elements: playing, cognitive conflict, and explaining as a strategy (285). In this examination, they demonstrate the importance of talk in these students’ internalization of both structural and conceptual information, furthering our understandings of the importance of a range of verbal interactions in maintaining intense student engagement in classroom tasks. a I , o o o i .1." "0'1 9.1.11.2.ldl' . 1..'1. . I... 9.0»; 1"."1' In work related to that of Michaels & O’Connor on the Cheche Konnen Project, Ballenger (1994) focused on ‘science talks’, a regular classroom event in which students worked together to formulate questions to investigate, beginning with their own ideas and experiences, and their own ways of approaching the questions they posed. Taken together, these ideas, experiences, and approaches constituted the students’ own discourses. The choice to build instruction around students’ discourses was seen as central to the deep engagement (Newmann 1992) and interest that the students showed in 41 the problems they studied. Their investigations often led to other questions as they studied topics like mold, spontaneous generation, and water quality. Ballenger provides us pictures of how these students approached these problems, and how science content could be learned in support of the students’ quests to answer the questions they had posed. Complementary pictures emerge from work in the Collaborative Problem Solving Project (V ellom et al 1994), set in multicultural urban sixth grade classrooms (the same setting and project as Holland and Kurth, noted above). As students worked in collaborative groups and later as a whole class on problems having to do with mass, volume, and density, their claims about data were seen as a strong basis for their engagement in argumentation and negotiation about the veracity of those claims. With sustained effort based on ownership of these claims, the students validated a set of claims consistent with replicable observations. In the course of these negotiations, the students and teacher together developed efficient and standardized ways of describing the substances under study. In W, Shirley Brice Heath’s (1983) landmark study of the southern communities of Roadville and Trackton, the author describes the ways that she involved students in an ethnographic study of gardening, a topic that was a daily fact of life for her students. Beginning with the students’ own questions about what constituted good vegetable gardening, Heath’s study takes the reader through many of the negotiations and investigations in which students engaged each other and their families and friends in the community. In Heath's study, the students involved others as they created a community of interested learners much wider than the classroom or the school. In doing so, they found that knowledge was embedded in many different kinds of discourses. In order to get the information they wanted about gardening, they had to learn to operate inside a number of particular discourses, as they interviewed people in the community who were recognized as good gardeners. They also had to learn to work across these discourses as they 42 compiled data from individuals into larger sets, and sought consistency and coherence across their samples. Finally, as they reported their findings verbally and in writing, the students’ own discourse reflected a growing sense of the value of the research process. As they worked, they reflected on the work they were doing in order to establish for themselves some standards and some common and fruitful ways of operating. The vision of community-based science learning that Heath gives us stands in striking contrast to the experiences that many students encounter in more traditional classrooms, especially in terms of the motivation and involvement of the students, and in the pictures they get of the scientific enterprise. In juxtaposition to the traditional teacher's role of dispenser of and authority for knowledge, as well as central player in most classroom interactions, Schoenfeld (1985, 1990) described the teacher as active facilitator and mentor. In striving to involve students in the kinds of interactions and quests that are valued among those who practice the discipline of mathematics, Schoenfeld‘s vignettes from his own classrooms show how he stepped aside to enable his students to openly probe and question classmates about their understandings of relationships and meaning. In these studies, the students’ ideas and the role of language in negotiations of meaning were seen as central to the teacher taking this role. Schoenfeld noted that those who are in the discipline work this way, proposing ideas publicly and attempting to validate them as they negotiate issues of language and meaning. In a similar body of work, Lampert (1985, 1990) and Ball (1990) studied classrooms in which the teachers supported students as they made conjectures and then justified them to their peers. Ball called this ‘respecting students as mathematical thinkers’(13). In her classroom, she often posed problems that challenged students to work across 'representational contexts', and then facilitated student interaction, making reasoning and decisions public in order to move the interactions in positive directions. 43 Lampert, examining a similar classroom, proposed a ‘continuum of justification’ along which students move, from private to public justifications, as they learn. In seeing justification of ideas as a part of learning, Lampert assumes that the ideas that students bring to a situation are important, and also assumes that the teacher will take roles that encourage students to propose and justify their ideas, rather than working solely on a predetermined set of ideas or algorithms. Lampert’s and Ball’s classrooms show (with much younger students) many of the aspects that Schoenfeld noted as reflective of doing mathematics as those in the discipline do. In a similar way, Vellom and colleagues( 1993) report on a classroom in which the teacher attempted to scaffold students into reasoned decisions about the veracity of conflicting observational data that had been reported from various collaborative groups working with a system of liquids with differing densities. Holding consensus as the model for decisionmaking in scientific communities, the teacher valued the claims of all students while assisting the class in setting up and conducting verification procedures. His willingness to accept all claims initially, and then to give students a degree of self- deterrnination as they suggested ways to resolve conflicting claims, allowed the class to establish it’s own working standards for what counted as data. Eventually, with the teacher actively working to assist them, the students successfully distinguished replicable data from the “noise” of irreproducible claims. The kind of classroom situation envisioned here, where the teacher takes the role of co-learner, mentor, and coach, has been called a leaming community (Schwab 1976, Ball 1990, Lampert 1985, Roth & Rosaen 1990). In these classrooms, when students’ ideas are being negotiated, the teacher may propose or modify the focus of negotiations, or may instruct students in fruitful ways of thinking about or solving problems (Schoenfeld, 1985). The teacher also shares the rationales for choices he or she makes in order to move the negotiations ahead with students. 44 Another important feature of a learning community is a growing sense of shared purpose in joint activity. In several of the studies cited above (notably Schoenfeld 1990, Ball 1990, Vellom et al 1993, Heath 1983), this shared sense of purpose enabled students to build on the ideas of others in classroom settings that worked very differently from some of the more traditionally structured classrooms that Lemke (1990) described. Thus, in these classrooms, the kind of true collaboration described by Wells (1991) was possible. “students are able to offer their interpretations for consideration by others without fear of ridicule and, in the process of discussion, to calibrate their interpretations with those of other members of the group, including those of the teacher” (13-14) The kind of collaboration illustrated in Wells' study, which described heterogeneous groups of four middle school students working together on refraction, requires shared responsibility for maintenance of the learning environment. Both teacher and students worked together to develop explanations, and to monitor their contributions and progress. The Collaborative Problem Solving Project (previously mentioned) examined heterogeneous groups of four middle school students working together during units of instruction designed to assist them in developing understandings of the kinetic molecular theory. Eichinger et a1 (1991) characterized the social norms and conceptual nature of collaborative groupwork as students worked to reason out the ‘Water on the Spaceship Problem’. In this problem, the group was asked to produce a poster on which they proposed which state of water (solid, liquid, or gas) was the best way to store and transport the water that a group of astronauts would need. As the students in the group worked to solve the problem, alliances between students developed, based on shared conceptual grounds, or on shared social norms. These alliances appeared to support some students developing understanding, while being less promising for students that were not a part of them. 45 Kollar et al ( 1994) and Kurth et al (1994) also studied collaborative groups in this same project. Kollar’s study examined relationships between personal identity and students’ agendas in group settings. She noted that students with better records of past academic performance, who tended to be most engaged in group activities and discourse, also tended to develop the wider senses of purpose necessary to move the group towards well-defined and elaborated explanations of the observed phenomena. Other students who were recognized by group members as less academically able tended to assume roles that supported the aims of these select few. Kurth and colleagues delivered a compelling case study (previously mentioned) which also elaborated some of the complexities of this kind of instruction. Issues of equity and justice often arose when groups of students were given opportunities to develop their own ways of operating, and to evolve standards for collective validation of ideas (Roth & Rosaen 1990, Miller 1987). While reflection is not always noted as a significant commitment in sociolinguistic studies of teaching and learning, it may be found implicit in classroom practices or may be framed explicin in different terms. The essence of reflection is taking a stance outside one's present actions to consider what one has done and might do in relation to one's present condition. Reflection includes the meta-level strategies that help us to make sense of what we have done, and to look ahead and plan strategic action. In teaching and learning, they often result in better understanding of the significance of particular events and ideas, for teachers and for students. One way in which reflection appears in a range of studies is as a 'self-monitoring' aspect of the work of a group or discipline. This representation is common to the mathematics studies cited above (Schoenfeld 1985, 1990; Ball 1990, Lampert 1985, 1990). In a later study, Ball (1992) described a situation in which her students were trying to reason out how fractions work. Given the challenge to figure out 3/4 of 12, they proposed solutions, explained how they figured each out, argued about meaning, and 46 eventually validated a number of ways of thinking about fractions that were fruitful for solving this kind of problem. In the validation process, reflection led to critical examination of ideas and algorithms together with the situation, resulting in students arguing about the meaning of the fraction 3/4 in ways that supported their reasoning. A second way that of framing reflection is in terms of metacognitive strategies, such as explicit talk about talk. Michaels & Bruce (undated) interviewed urban fourth- graders about the earth's motion and seasonal changes in climate after the students had participated in a text-based unit of instruction. Analysis of the interviews revealed that most of the students developed plausible-sounding explanations without understanding underlying theoretical constructs such as relative distances, time, and relational motion. The interviews themselves were occasions for students to recall what they had learned. But they allowed the interviewers, during analysis, to reflect on what had worked and not worked in the instruction. This reflection led to their suggestion that instruction include opportunities for students to commit to a particular theory and to reflect as a community of learners on the variety of discourses of explanation, a chance to record, analyze, and critique competing modes of explanation, and to practice them, orally, and in writing (27) Note that reflection can occur as a feature of classroom activities involving oral and written practice of discourse, especially those that assume a critical review of ideas and their applications to problems. Likewise, Michaels & O'Connor (1990) gave examples of third and fourth grade students learning about balance. In this and three other studies that they reviewed (Heath 1983, Palincsar & Brown 1984, Moses et al 1989) they noted the importance of talk about talk in developing discourse strategies among students. In each case, explicit teacher scaffolding of talk was also noted as significant in the gains that students made. By discussing new terminology and modeling appropriate usage, and by making discourse strategies such as agreement, disagreement, giving evidence or reasons, and proposing new ideas or explanations explicit in the conversation of the classroom, teachers supported 47 students’ understandings of the developing discourse on conceptual and structural grounds. Recommendations for Teaching from Sociolinguistic Research: Many of the recommendations that sociolinguistic researchers have proposed for teaching appear as implicit or explicit aspects of the discourse-based classrooms they chose to examine. In other words, rather than saying that we haven't quite gotten 'the forrnula' for good teaching right, these researchers have taken each classroom and context as unique, and therefore different from others in significant ways. For them, there is no single formula for teaching science (or any other subject matter) that will ensure successful learning for all students. Instead, the recommendations that emerge from this research have much more to do with the ways in which classroom interactions are structured and valued, as reflected in the five commitments in the previous section. These recommendations are tempered by their presentation as a set of reasonably detailed examples of classrooms that work for some students. The researchers’ work is concerned with figuring out what dynamics are operating in these educational settings, in order to better understand why the instruction and setting work for some students and not for others. Still, out of the many studies reported here and elsewhere, there are a few that stand as visionary examples of meaningful contexts that engaged students deeply in learning that they obviously cared about. I suggest that a significant part of the success in each of these particular situations was that in each, a discourse community was created. Swales (1990, 24-27) identified six criteria for this kind of community, which I have listed below, together with my own sense of how these criteria relate to the dimensions of discourse I have selected for this study. 0 A discourse community shares a broadly agreed set of common public goals. In the classroom, this means that the teacher shares the goals and purposes of the activity, but it also means that students have some freedom to make sense of the activities in 48 their own ways (cf Ballenger 1994) within the guidelines set by the teacher. I examined episodes of student interaction to try to characterize the goals or purposes that students established for their activities, and those that the teacher established. 0 A discourse community has mechanisms of intercommunication among its members. In every working group, common terms and usage evolve as the group works together. The patterns of speech, ways of recording data, and terminology all constituted forms of mediational means in use. This study traced the use and development of mediational means across many social arrangements in the classroom. 0 A discourse community uses its participatory mechanisms primarily to provide information and feedback. The students and teacher in this study were attempting to describe substances as fully and accurately as they could. In doing so, they communicated through verbal interaction, writings in individual logbooks, making and presenting posters, gathering class data and verifying it, and many other activities. The currency in all of these activities was the information about the substances themselves, and how to best describe them. In examining the ways in which information and feedback were used and shared, this study traced the connectedness of action, speech, and thought. 0 A discourse community utilizes and hence possesses one or more genres in the communicative furtherance of its aims. In this study, students learned some of the genres that are common to science (like tables with data), but they also worked on developing their own genres (like arguments of support for particular claims). Each of these genres constituted mediational means that students and teacher used. 0 A discourse community has acquired some specific lexis. Over the course of the instructional sequence, students developed more scientific ways of communicating about substances. Some of the specialized terminology and ways of using language were developed by the students themselves, while other language (such as mass, volume, and density) came directly from the accepted scientific canon via the teacher. Both standards and mediational means were in play as new language was acquired and tested. 0 A discourse community has a threshold level of members with a suitable degree of relevant content and discoursal expertise. In this classroom, each student came to the instructional setting with his or her own set of understandings and skills. As students worked to describe substances, they established standards for good description and productive work and communication. Over time, these standards ensured progress towards the ultimate goal of describing substances in terms of mass, volume, and density. Swales’ criteria, while appropriate for discourse communities of all kinds, was somewhat more detailed in the areas related to genre, lexis, and communication than was appropriate for this study. The four dimensions of discourse around which this study was constructed formed an important analytical frame within which to examine the students’ and teacher’s actions in this instructional sequence, without the redundancy of Swales’ six criteria. In essence, the dimensions I selected focused on aspects of classroom interaction 49 and context that most powerfully capture what happened in terms of the emerging social and individual understandings of difficult and complex subject matter. The research questions that guided this study, which follow, illustrate the focus of this study, which was characterizing developing individual understandings as well as the emergent public understandings as these students attempted to describe substances in ways that were both meaningful to them, and scientific. CHAPTER 3 Purposes of the Study This study was guided by the following questions: 1. How did the construction of the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density proceed in the discourse system of the classroom community as a whole over the seven week instructional period? In what ways did teacher and student privileging of mediated action influence the development of these concepts? 2. In what ways did eight individual students in this class take on the “identity kit” of science, as demonstrated by participation in classroom and collaborative group discourse and investigations about mass, volume, and density? How was the emerging discourse system of the classroom community and collaborative groups facilitative (or not facilitative) of their participation in the activity of describing substances, and especially their understanding of Mass, Volume and Density? In general terms, my aim in this study was to develop a rich description of interactions in a learning community classroom in which students were negotiating meanings of scientific concepts. I wanted to study the classroom development of concepts that are typically difficult or foreign to many students; I also wanted to select concepts that represented abstractions from examples, rather than simple descriptors used in observations. These criteria led me to select the activity of describing substances, and the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density. These concepts are often taught using a multiple-representations approach, wherein initial conceptions are refined and sharpened through repeated application in a succession of situations which each differ in some way from previous ones. In this kind of teaching sequence, one would expect some conceptual development or refrnement over time. I wanted to see what this looked like by examining the mediated actions (thought, language, and action) of members of the class and the teacher as they worked these concepts out in the public discourse system of the classroom. I was particularly interested in characterizing the interplay between public and more private forms of discourse, and in tracing concept development through them. 50 51 Thus, a second purpose in this study involves looking at individuals and how they participated in the developing discourse system of the class. As instruction proceeded, some forms of mediated action were privileged over other forms; I wanted to trace how each of eight target students fared in terms of these privileging actions, which in some cases established new standards for accepted action. I wanted to see what happened-- whether these students took on newly privileged forms, or whether they were marginalized by virtue of not doing so. I worked to develop descriptions of these students that included instances in which they challenged, or were challenged by, the privileging of certain forms of action over others. I sought connections between their developing understandings, their use of mediational means, and their participation in discourse-based events in the classroom. With these two purposes, I hoped to gain some understanding of the flow of ideas and information in a classroom that included a variety of working contexts for discourse, such as individuals writing in logbooks, pairs of students working together, students working in collaborative groups of four on open problems, and whole-class discussions and inquiries in which consensus was the basis for decision-making. While not looking for a definitive model or mechanisnr, I felt that characterizing this feature of the social milieu of the classroom would add immeasurably to my descriptions of the collective discourse system and the individuals within it. Description of Setting The School and Community This study took place in a middle school situated in a rrridwestem city of perhaps a quarter of a million people. The city is the state capitol and an industrial center for manufacturing durable consumer goods, and is served by one large school district, as well 52 as several smaller suburban districts. Adjacent to the city is a smaller town which includes a major land-grant university. The middle school serves a population that is noticeably diverse in terms of ethnicity and socio-economic status. The class studied herein included mainly European- American and African-American students, but also included Asian-American and Latin- American students. Parents’ occupations included professional, para-professional, and blue collar and service industries. Slightly more than fifty percent of the students at this school received free or reduced-price lunch assistance. While no statistical analyses were conducted as a part of this study, I saw this particular class as fairly representative of the larger school population. I studied a sixth grade science class in a grades 6-8 middle school. The students in this school were arranged in “teams” of three classes, or approximately 110 students, who shared the same teachers. Each team of four teachers worked together to establish consistent guidelines for homework, classroom behavior, and personal organization and management for their students. In this way, students from varying backgrounds were provided a unified set of expectations and policies, at a time in their lives when many of them experienced increased independence, and were expected to make wise choices and begin to manage their own affairs. This system had been developed several years earlier by the teachers at this school, in response to a felt need to help many students learn how to succeed in the areas of personal responsibility and organization. I entered the classroom in January of the school year, as the students were finishing a state-mandated unit on health and hygiene. By agreement with the regular classroom teacher, I took over complete responsibility for planning and teaching this class, which was the first class in the morning. The regular teacher observed most of these lessons, recording information for her own use. She then taught two other classes the same material, often staying a day or two behind my class. On occasion we co-taught this class, 53 especially at times when she had ideas about scaffolding whole-class discussions. Rarely were these occasions planned in any detail, as it was common for her to interject comments at any time during the instructional sequence. She also retained responsibility for grading the students’ work; in all cases, we agreed on grading criteria during weekly planning conferences in which we mapped and modified our cunicula for the ensuing weeks. This study was conducted during the fourth (and last) year of a federally-funded classroom research project which focused on relationships between collaborative activity and understanding in sixth grade urban science classrooms. Research was conducted at this site, and another similar middle school site in another city in the same state. Over the lifespan of the project, significant attention was focused on social and cultural factors and their part in determining students’ success in these classrooms. (see Eichinger et a1 1991, Holland et a1 1994, Kollar et al 1994, Kurth et a1 1994, Vellom et a1 1993, 1994, 1995) This particular teacher had been a part of this research project for the entire duration; each year she welcomed a researcher as a teacher in one of her classes, and consented to other researchers videotaping one of the classes she taught. She participated in weekly meetings after school to plan curriculum, and actively relished the opportunity to see what ideas and concepts the university researchers thought important, and to share strategies and insights in the planning process. In this way, a mutually beneficial relationship between the researchers and this teacher was maintained. In taking on the role of teacher during this instructional sequence (eleven weeks in duration), I made a choice to defer my role as researcher until the sequence was over. This choice was made possible by the availability and work of two other university researchers, and the resources of the larger project. At the outset, these researchers conducted pre- instructional clinical interviews with each of the eight target students. One of these researchers videotaped and recorded field notes each day. In addition, assistance with procuring, setting up, and cleaning up lab materials was provided to me and the 54 cooperating teacher. And, post—instructional clinical interviews were conducted by the researcher as well. This enabled me to distinguish, in practice, between those activities that were research-based, and those that were based on teaching. I was able to make this distinction completely, on a practical basis, because others were collecting the data. I was also familiar with how large and rich a typical data set gathered in this way would be, and this enabled me to focus on the teaching rather than having to worry about the kinds and quality of data that would be gathered. My decision was based on a firm conviction that teaching demands full attention, and worries about ethical considerations and compromises that might arise from my confusing these two roles. I wanted to make sure that I did a good job of teaching, for the sake of the students involved. I had set ambitious goals for myself in teaching this unit; these had to do with daily use of logbooks as significant learning tools in the classroom, and in attempting to provide interaction-rich instruction that would hold high potential for learning for all students. In other words, I had formulated my goals for teaching this sequence around interactions between students and texts, and I wanted to push myself and my students to see what could be accomplished. I was focused on the potential payoffs for me as a teacher, and for my students as learners of science. Features of the Classroom I believe that significant interactions involving student ideas about the natural world are best accomplished in a setting in which students and teacher share responsibility for maintenance of the learning environment. In such an environment, often called a learning community, (Ball, 1990; Lampert, 1985) the teacher takes the position of co-leamer (rather than absolute authority for what is right or wrong), and student ideas often undergo a process of collective validation. Miller (1987) described collective validation as a process 55 in which members of a group either accept, reject, or argue about ideas generated within the group, until some group position is achieved. In this classroom, student ideas were often generated and recorded first in individuals’ logbooks, and thereafter shared with partners, small groups, or the whole class. Students often worked in pairs to investigate phenomena or share ideas. Regularly, two pairs met (students in groups of four) to negotiate ideas or process data. The groups of four in this class were stable over the eleven weeks of instruction, with the only adjustments resulting from a single student moving into the class. The groups were originally formed by the regular classroom teacher, using the following criteria (in rank order of precedence): ' One student from each quartile of the class, based on academic performance in this science class prior to the beginning of the instructional sequence 0 Mixed ethnicity 0 Mixed gender The cooperating teacher had formed these groups at the outset of the academic year, but the students had not worked in groups for some time before the we arrived. The students had, however, been exposed to some social norms for group work. This included instruction based on three key words: 0 Responsibility- for my own work and the work of my group 0 Understanding- trying to understand others and be understood 0 Tolerance- for others who may act differently or have different ideas She referred to these by the acronym RUT. In the previous year, these words had been used as a part of the formal instruction during the cuniculum unit she shared with the research team. This year, however, the cooperating teacher had set up the groups herself, and had worked with students on social norms; thus, further instruction in group norms was tabled until a need for it arose. 56 The Curriculum The curriculum for this instructional unit was a modified version of Matter and Molecules (Berkheimer et a1, 1988). This curriculum was designed to teach students about the kinetic molecular theory from an alternative frameworks perspective, making explicit use of student conceptions in instruction that is aimed at assisting students in reordering their webs of understanding about the nature of matter. Beginning with macro-level (observable) phenomena, students observe carefully and develop theories to explain their observations. Eventually, they employ models of micro-level structures (atoms and molecules) to establish consistent and coherent explanations for the behavior and properties of substances. One modification to this curriculum was the addition of a version of the ESS Colored Solutions problem, which forms a large part of the instructional sequence reported here. In this problem, students were given three solutions of differing density; red, clear, and green (in order of increasing density). However, all were completely miscible, and thus could only be layered one atop another with great care. Most students, on their first few attempts at layering the liquids, ended up with mixtures instead. The problem was presented by the teacher as a challenge to see how many different ways the solutions would “stack”. The teacher showed a stack of red over clear to show that stacks could be made, and then students were provided with materials (vials, droppers, soda straws, and plenty of each of the solutions), with a tray of materials provided to each pair of students. Work on this problem initially took two days, and led to a process of collective validation and then reporting via group posters. Discrepancies in posters led to further validation, this time focused on explanations for the observed phenomena, with the whole sequence spanning three weeks. From this sequence, many students arrived at “heavyness” as the salient feature of the liquids that determined stacking order. Building on this idea, the teacher initiated a 57 series of test-design tasks and subsequent investigations designed to clarify which properties were responsible for the liquids’ behavior. At the same time, he initiated some discussion and reference work on terminology aimed at helping students to understand important distinctions between some of the vernacular terms that they were using in science contexts. These instructional activities spanned another two weeks, eventually evolving into directed instruction in Mass, Volume, and Density, as well as a series of demonstrations that elucidated distinctions between these properties and how they are measured and used (the Colored Solutions problem and ensuing instruction is described in detail in Chapter 4). Finally, students took a written test covering the Colored Solutions and Mass, Volume, and Density. Instruction for the five remaining weeks, beyond the scope of this study, included states of matter, and employed molecular models in developing coherent explanations to explain observed phenomena. Data Collection: The data collected and used in this study were a subset of the data collected for the larger project previously mentioned. However, I made use of a vast array of data collected in one class; for this reason, I describe the project data collection and analysis procedures here, as well as my own efforts and choices in analysis. I make clear distinctions about choices I made which defined the data I used within the larger set. While analysis involved continuous cross-checking and corroborative searches, I have chosen to begin this description by listing my data sources below, and discussing each in turn. Critical issues and frames for analysis follow these descriptions. mm were administered to all students in the class before and after instruction, respectively (See Appendix B). These tests were long, and thus were divided into parts A and B, given on successive days. Students were informed that these tests would have no bearing on their grades, but instead were to give the researchers and 58 teacher some ideas about how they understood some science concepts and ideas. They were encouraged to write ideas down, even if they were not sure. Students who missed one or more of the days of testing were encouraged to make the test up during homeroom or spare time in class. Pre- and post-tests were identical. They were used as corroborating evidence to track students’ initial and final understandings, as well as to gauge the students’ approach to problems involving description of substances at both times. This study made use of the pretests and posttests of the eight target students. I used these in conjunction with clinical interviews and logbooks to gain insight into early conceptual understanding and approaches, and then later to establish the same at the end of the instructional sequence. WW were conducted with each of the eight target students in the class (See Appendix B for protocol). Interviews asked students conceptual questions, questions aimed at understandings of scientific approaches to problem-solving, and questions about attitudes and experiences in collaborative group work. Many of the interview questions were prompted with materials. This study made use of one question in particular“, which asked students to compare two cubes of equal dimensions but made of different materials (one Lucite and one aluminum). Responses to salient questions and probes were transcribed, and examined for conceptual content and sophistication. These were compared across the instructional span, and used as corroborative evidence with the conceptual tests to establish pictures of each student’s understandings before and after instruction. Post-interview transcripts were also used to verify my hunches about which students had benefited from certain aspects of instruction, as far as this was possible (*Note: Unfortunately, because the interview protocol was lengthy, none of the eight target students was asked this question during the pre-instruction interview. All were asked the question in post-instruction interviews. Since the interview data was used in concert with other sources to determine conceptual understanding and typical approaches to problems for which the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density 59 would be useful, this data was derived from examination of student logbooks, conceptual pretests, and videotapes of group interactions during the Colored Solutions activity.) M were recorded each day of class, using two cameras mounted on tripods. One camera sat in a front comer of the classroom, and captured images of the students at work in whole-class settings. The other camera sat in a back comer of the classroom, and captured images of the teacher (See map below). When students worked in small groups, each of these cameras was aimed at a target group of four students, and was augmented by a PZM microphone placed on a desk of a group member. In this way, a nearly continuous and complete video record of whole-class and small group interactions (for the two target groups) was made. This record allowed me to examine each of these social contexts closely, to establish what kinds of action were occurring, and who the actors were. windows 60 chalkboard lllllllllllllllllllllllllll|lllllIlIl|I|l|l|I|l||l|l|l||||l|lllllllIllIIIIIIIHIIHIHIIHIH bulletin board Ill||||||llIllllllIllllll||l||||||||||l||l||l|||ll er m"- demenstration table _ mmmmszmarm‘m — W-‘KVWWJDW door preoq urrennq storage izirnkzoqiritétnitti.m‘ffznb Figure 2: Map of classroom showing locations of cameras and target groups. 61 These records were augmented by fisldngtgs, which were recorded by a researcher using a standard Classroom Observation form developed by the project. During transitions, the researcher moved from one camera to the next in order to redirect the camera towards the appropriate range of subjects. Students became accustomed to the presence of the camera and researcher quickly, and in most cases the redirecting occurred quickly and without disturbance (although transitions often represented the only significant “holes” in our data collection, since aiming the cameras took a few minutes, and eliminated the possibility of fieldnotes for a short time). Tapes were stamped with date and continuous time markings, so that real-time analyses could be conducted. When students worked in pairs, microphones were placed on the desks of the pair closest to the camera (these pairs remained constant in makeup and position). Audio cassette recorders were placed on the desks of the other pairs. These audio tapes became supplemental records for verbal interactions in these pairs. They were transcribed in conjunction with viewing the video tapes of these sessions, in order to establish the identities of the speakers and to view the actions that accompanied speech. This study made close analysis of approximately seven weeks’ videotapes, fieldnotes, and audio tapes; this time span represented the instructional sequence in which describing substances was a substantial part of the curriculum. As mentioned above, taken together, these data sources gave me windows into small groups and pairs of students working together on many of the tasks and activities that comprised the unit. Analysis focused on using as many of these resources as possible to establish what was going on in these various collective settings. Tapes were secured in the classroom daily, and carried to the university in batches. Once there, working copies were dubbed immediately and the originals stored in a locked cabinet. Fieldnotes were entered into a computer database (FileMaker Pro v. 2.0) in which a new record was created each time a transition occurred in the classroom (this followed a pattern already established in the fieldnotes themselves, which emphasized recording 62 transitions in activity or arrangement of students in the classroom). Thus, records were based roughly on kinds of interactional settings and activities within the classroom. These records were used as an initial catalogue for selection and analysis of video tape segments. The sorting and cataloguing capabilities of the database allowed us to select successive group sessions, or a series by subject, or a chronological series for analysis. As video tapes were viewed, video annotation software (CVideo) was used to develop real-time catalogues and transcripts of classroom events and interactions. These were then simply pasted into the correct records of the database, for further analysis. In similar fashion, transcripts of audio tapes were added to the database as well. Video tapes and audio tapes give the impression of a ‘real image’ of interactional settings. As real as these images may seem, however, they are linrited by the point of view of the camera, technical limitations of image quality, and by the complexity and dynamic nature of human speech and interaction. In essence, when one records video or audio images in a classroom or elsewhere, one gets an incomplete or limited view of what transpired. This kind of data, then, is best used in conjunction with other data sources rather than as stand-alone records. For this reason, we designed some redundancy into the collection system. With fieldnotes as well as taped images, we reduced the chances that we might miss, or misconstrue, important events in the classroom. A further caution in analysis of these taped images, which again have their limitations, derives from potential bias in viewing and interpreting them. Essentially, each analyst reviews the images and interprets what he or she finds there. While these analyses are usually undertaken with due care and diligence, one must be continually aware of one’s own biases in formulating and researching hypotheses about what is represented on the tapes. This is difficult, especially when a theoretical or explanatory frame seems to “fit” a small fragment of the recorded data. Large enough samples must be surveyed carefully to reduce the chances of a misconstrual. Thorough analysis of taped evidence is rarely 63 enough, in these cases. Corroboration must also be sought in other data sources; cross- checking and then re-viewing (or re-hearing) taped interchanges is a must. This is incredibly time-consuming, but the only responsible way to proceed. Reducing uncertainty in analysis is the name of the game, and it must be done well in every case. W from the entire class were made intermittently during the course of the instructional unit. These included student logbooks, tests, written worksheets, and poster planning documents. In this study, these formed the largest corpus of corroborative information for my work analyzing video and audio tapes, but also comprised a rich and intriguing collection of student efforts from a variety of settings and activities. Much like alburrrs of photographs, the student logbooks gave momentary images of students’ understanding and negotiation of ideas. Particularly powerful analyses included viewing students’ written work in conjunction with video tapes of the work being done. In these analyses, I was able to watch as dramas of composition and evolution of ideas occurred, often in group settings. Just as written work was important in conjunction with analysis of tapes, it was a vital source of information about individuals-- their ideas, approaches, and understandings. For the study reported here, I closely examined the logbooks of each of the target students; I also used the remaining logbooks in the class to verify hunches about the range of ideas and approaches present in the larger discourse system. On occasion, individuals’ logbooks were examined to certify my best guesses about occurrences that were unclear on the tapes of classroom sessions. WW were made after each class session, and were used only for this study. These were free-form recollections (there were no specific prompts to which the teacher responded each day) of problems encountered in teaching, reminders of things to be done for the next day, and exciting or interesting events that occurred during the course of instruction. On occasion, the teacher “reasoned through” happenings in order to make sense of them. The norm for these recollections ran between five and ten rrrinutes 64 per day. These recollections were transcribed in the course of reviewing and collecting materials to write the teacher’s story. They rarely provided a clear catalogue of events for a particular day, but rather helped (in conjunction with video images, lesson plans, and classroom materials) to reconstruct a story that includes much about the teacher’s goals and purposes in instruction. Data Analysis: The data set collected during the six week“ span of this study is truly enormous, especially in terms of the taped media. Humans talk and act at will, and the sheer numbers of interactions occurring in a classroom at one time, or over the course of a forty five nrinute lesson, is often boggling as well. For this reason, I found it important to select segments of time (and thus classroom interaction) for close analysis. However, I first reviewed field notes in order to identify larger sequences of several days’ duration that held promise for telling the stories of individuals and groups within the context of the whole class. Then, video tapes from these days were viewed and annotations made to supplement the existing field notes and to catalogue major transitions and promising interactions. (*Instructional sequence for this study was six weeks, but conceptual post-tests were not administered until four weeks later, which was the end of the unit and the larger project study). The research questions (see ‘Purposes of the Study’ above) guided selection of smaller segments within the larger sequences that had been catalogued. The first research question concerns qualities or features of mediated action in the public discourse of the classroom. In attempting to create a picture of this developing discourse system, I examined the catalogue, lesson plans, and classroom materials for landmarks, or pieces of interaction that reflected particular aspects or features of mediated action that I wanted to examine more fully. This kind of analysis (one in which a developing system would be 65 characterized) required an understanding of the complete sequence of classroom events; those events not reported in detail would have to be summarized in ways that represented the features under consideration fully enough to create a coherent picture of the system over time. Mediated Action in the Developing Discourse System of the Classroom Wertsch’s unit of analysis, mediated action (always created by actor(s) in specific context(s)), is fitting for examining the variety of data sources included in my data set, because it assumes that in every case, the data is an artifact or representation of sonre form of mediated action. I was not interested in simply examining classroom interactions with an open question like, “What are they doing?” to guide me; rather, I wanted to examine the actions themselves (language, action, and thought) for specific qualities or aspects representative of the mediated actions of scientists in describing substances. Another way of phrasing this kind of analysis might be, “In what ways does the action I am observing reflect the qualities in which I am interested?” Using this question as a guide, I reconstructed the story of the public discourse system of the classroom, based first on the actions and purposes of the teacher. This story would later be fleshed out and grounded with episodes from individuals, working pairs, and groups of four. Thus, the analysis reported here was often the story of the collective- all of the actors in the classroom, including students and teacher-~as well as individuals, pairs, and groups of four within the collective. As I analyzed from these two perspectives, a relatively consistent structure emerged as episodes were selected and the story pieced together. First, the backbone of the narrative was told from the teacher’s perspective. In many ways, this story was the story of the collective (although the very personal nature of teaching is evident, as are the personal choices and preferences of this teacher). At times, he held goals and standards that the other members of the community did not value; at 66 others, he scaffolded members of the community into action that reflected his vision; at still others, he adjusted his vision to their actions and goals. Chapter 4 begins with an episode that includes a brief description of the teacher’s instructions for an investigation in which the students would be working in pairs. Next, it includes student logbook entries and transcripts of working pairs from that investigation. Following this, I focus on an artifact, a table of claims from a whole-class data gathering exercise in which each of the working pairs reported out their results and they were compiled. This three-part structure (whole—class description, small group transcript, whole-class artifact) which is a repeating feature of this analysis, also reflects a cyclical nature of the instruction in the classroom. In selecting and portraying episodes in this fashion, I was able to establish and value the links between each of the pieces of an episode. In short, the teacher’s “set” for an activity often provided explicit evidence for goals, standards, use of mediational means, and expectations of connectedness in the activity. Then, looking at the students’ language and action as represented in the transcripts allowed me to see what sense they were making of the activity. Specifically, I was able to look for: 0 goals and purposes they brought to the activity 0 standards they applied 0 mediational means they used 0 the connectedness of their actions. These individual, working pair, and group of four vignettes often illustrated the wide range of purposes, standards, and mediational means that students brought to bear on classroom tasks and processes. Ending the episode with artifacts from whole-class sessions then gave me a view of how the teacher and students valued or transformed the products of small-group interactions, again with attention to the four aspects mentioned above. These four specific analytical frames for mediated action are discussed in more detail below 67 Types of Mediated Actions The activities and artifacts included in the analysis are varied with respect to the actions of the participants, their language, the tools that they used, and their conceptual content. It was therefore necessary to develop an analytical system that described how these actions were related to each other and to the overall goal of helping students describe substances in terms of Mass, Volume, and Density. The scientific description of substances is not a single, unified activity. Rather, it is a complex interconnected set of activities requiring different tools, techniques, and language. Within scientific communities, these activities are connected by shared understandings of the nature and purposes of scientific description, properties of substances, and appropriate tools and techniques for describing each property. In laying out these activities and the connections among them, I begin with a discussion of the nature of scientific activity in general. This discussion is followed by a scheme for analyzing the specific activities associated with describing substances. l E l l . 'E 'v' In the teaching reported here, much emphasis was placed on developing realistic pictures of the activities of scientists for and with the students in the classroom. To further this goal, at the outset of instruction, the activities of scientists seeking to build new knowledge about substances were characterized in a simple framework, identified by the acronym TOPE. As a representation of the activities of scientists, this framework is elegant in several ways. Perhaps the most immediately appealing is its simplicity; yet, it retains an internal consistency that reflects accurately a hierarchical approach that a scientist might take. Between the lines, however, lie a set of qualities of mediated action that characterize and distinguish scientific inquiry from the kinds of inquiry that students might undertake on their own. 68 _1&1_£t__a_A£fiLil.¥ M T Developing and trying to figure out how to make interesting learnrng things happen with substances, like Leghnigugs stacking different liquids or dissolving something fast or slowly. O r using one's senses (and instruments) to carefully and notice details as well as the obvious recording what things when you compare substances they see and changes in them. Making careful notes and drawings so that you can tell or show others what you observe. P Finding looking for patterns in the data from your 23mins observations. Sometimes, testing your ideas about patterns to see if they always work is important. E Developing explaining the patterns you found, and W matching patterns with reasons why about they happen. Often, scientists develop substances ideas to explain something, and then later change their explanations when they see new patterns. So, your ideas can change, and you can write new explanations to replace old ones. Figure 3: TOPE activities and examples As an example, when a scientist encounters an unknown substance that he or she wants to learn more about (describe), the scientist begins with the T and O actions (see Examples column) to develop an initial characterization of the substance, and then to further describe it. Then the initial characterization is elaborated and refined as the scientist examines the data for patterns (P) and develops explanations (E) for them. Scientific description does not follow a uniform path (that is, all scientists would not necessarily perform the same acts; order and reasoning might differ as well). But all of their actions are directed at essentially the same larger goal, that of describing the substance in ways that are valued in the community of scientists. To do this, scientists often act with mediational means- tools of various sorts, including lab equipment and measuring devices, as well as intellectual tools like concepts and understandings about the nature of matter. In 69 these actions, they observe standards for acceptability of their actions established and maintained by the community. One of these standards has to do with careful observation and recording of data. And, each of the scientists’ actions adds to the understanding he or she holds of the substance. This is because the scientist focuses on the connections between new attempts to describe and what has been learned in previous ones. To the outside observer, then, these actions appear to have a consistency and logic that are reflected in the evolving description of the substance. In teaching my students about scientists who describe substances, I sought to make explicit my understanding of the nature and purposes of the classroom activities that we undertook (goals). In doing this, I hoped that my characterizations of these activities would represent modal (or perhaps idealized) actions that all of the members of the learning community could understand as reference points for their own actions. Realizing that my own actions as teacher, and the actions of my students, would vary from this mode, I still thought it important to make this characterization explicit, and to give students some freedom in determining how to translate and interpret these characterizations and the tasks into their own actions. 21] fl .1. l The scientific description of substances begins with some specific goals and values that are shared within the scientific community, but not necessarily within other communities or contexts. In particular, scientific description values denotative precision over nuance, poetic value, beauty, or connotative power. As scientists pursue this goal of precise description of substances, they rely on Enables as conceptual tools or mediational means. Each variable is clearly defined and related to other variables that are used to describe substances in clearly specified ways. Among these variables are mass, volume, and density. Thus scientific description of substances encompasses shared understandings about: 7O - Acceptable W for comparing or measuring mass, volume, and density of substances 0 Acceptable ways of reporting Mons, such as comparisons or measurements of mass, volume, and density 0 Battems that are consistent for observations of mass, volume, and density for many different substances in different circumstances ' Explanations of why these patterns hold. These techniques, observations, patterns, and explanations are summarized in Table 2, below. l-T- " ,_ _.:s- _ mam _ ' _ ; __i.m- !‘ "l M" 7”“ "WWW” ” ' ‘ ‘T T Figure 4: The TOPE x MVD grid l j - Weighing substances 0 Msasurmg liquid volume using 0 Cnnmanng density of substances l '. using a balance. volumetric containers. by floating and sinking ‘ : 0 Cnmnarisnns of 0 Measuring volume by linear or 0 Mating density from ' T mass can be made displacement means. measures of mass and volume ' using a double pan , mm of volume can be I balm“ made by height of liquids in identical containers. 1 0 Measured in units, 0 Measured in units, liter is 0 Relative density determined by i gram is standard unit standard unit introducing one substance into 3 0 We say that objects 0 Comparing volume of liquids another F0 see Wh‘Ch floats and ! i with more mass are leads us to say we have more or meh srnks. j 0 ‘ heavier, while less of one. 0 Calculated and referenwd to | objects with less , Comparing volume of solids standard (water = lg/ml) 1 mass are lighter. leads us to say one is bigger or 0 Comparisons can result in 1 smaller than another. stacking, floating and sinking, or . lead us to say one is more dense l or less dense than another. ! j 0 Mass is dependent on 0 Volume is dependent on sample 0 More dense liquids sink, less l 1 sample size. size for solids and liquids. dense liquids float l i 0 Mass is independent 0 Floating and sinking is L of gravity independent of sample size P . . . . 0 Floating and srnkrng rs independent of shape or size of container 0 Floating and sinking is independent of order of introduction into container 0 Mass is a measure of 0 Volume is a measure of how 0 Density is a measure of how how much matter is much space a sample takes up closely packed matter is. E i" a sample 0 Measures of density assume New“) 7 1 Figure 4 unites the general goal of describing substances in terms of mass, volume, and density, with the specific activities of the classroom. Each of the episodes in the analysis describes members of the classroom community working on one of the specific activities described in Table l or on the connections among them. 312' . [1,. The analysis of each episode characterizes its place within the general set of activities associated with describing substances outlined in Figure 4. Each episode can also be analyzed in terms of four dimensinns that are implicitly present for all activities and explicitly apparent in some. These dimensions are: Goals - the nature and purposes of the activity Mediational means - the physical, intellectual, and social tools used in the activity 0 Logic - the connections between each action and other actions in describing substances 0 Standards - determine the acceptability of language and action in describing substances. Ways in which the language and action associated with each dimension were identified and analyzed are described below. Analysis of the mediated actions that resulted tell much about the students and their understandings of science concepts, as well as the nature of the scientific enterprise. As I examined each episode, I sought to focus on the four critical characteristics of action underlined above. So, for instance, in the introduction of the Colored Solutions problem, I tried to characterize the teacher’s understanding of the nature and purposes (goals) of the activity. In doing this, I asked the question, “What do(es) the actor(s) understand the nature and purposes of the activity to be?” 1.39m When students are working on goals, or concerned about the nature and purposes of the activities in which they are involved, they may argue about what they are supposed to be 72 doing. In most cases, this argument may have to do with the academic features of the task, like disagreements about what products are supposed to look like or include. At other times, students may disagree about the conceptual aspects of a task. This may come from different inter- pretations of the task, which can have to do with approaches and prior knowledge. In these cases, we would see different approaches; the differences in these approaches may involve differences in the status of knowledge, or differences in the kinds and frequency of conceptual work that students are accustomed to doing. An example from poster creation involves sonre students who are most concerned with the actual creation and production of the poster, and others that are concerned with having good ideas that fit together well on the poster. At the same time, the teacher is often explicit about the nature and purpose of what he is doing, or what the class is undertaking. We see this in writing in handouts and task- structuring documents. We see this also in his public pronouncements and in the decisions he makes in shaping whole-class discourse events. There are times when he explains the goals in relation to what he knows about the way scientists operate in working groups. The teacher’s goals are the framing goals for looking at the students’ understandings of the nature and purpose of what they do. One could consider that there are several frames in which to consider purposes in any situation; these have to do with the nested contexts represented here. For instance, a particular student may feel a lack of confidence in science, or feel disenfranchised by other members of the collaborative group. Either of these personal feelings have the potential for transforming the ensuing interactions, by becoming an overriding frame in the service of which the interactions play out. Likewise, larger goals of learning about the solutions tend to be diminished in the face of more immediate ones having to do with the demands of the task. As an example of how this played out in the instructional setting, my own characterizations of the TOPE activities were transformed by the school and classroom 73 settings, and the context of the Colored Solutions problem. Actions related to T and O began with an initial phase of exploration with the Colored Solutions, during which there were few constraints placed on the kind of data that each working pair gathered or the kinds of tests they ran. That is, initially, I did not impose standards for acceptable data (other than that it should be recorded as each trial was completed). Nor did I hint that I wanted students to try to approach the problem systematically; I did not model or mention building a more complete picture, and I did not limit (beyond the limits imposed by the equipment provided) the order or manner in which they conducted these tests (I did not require that they establish logical connections between tests). On the second day of exploring with the solutions, however, I began the class with a short question-and-answer session that changed the nature of much of the exploration that ensued. This change resulted from my asking what “stacks” of solutions had been made. When the vast majority of the class reported making no stacks, but only mixtures, my directions to be careful and to try to get layers redefined the goal of the activity from open- ended exploration to investigating the floating and sinking behavior of the solutions. In my analysis, the application of this question (What do(es) the actor(s) understand the nature and purposes of the activity to be?) helped me to determine the purposes the teacher and students held in actions they effected during the course of the unit. Subsequent shifts in purpose led the teacher and students to focus on finding patterns in the Colored Solutions data, and then to developing explanations for the observed patterns using the concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density. 2W Just as goals influenced my selection of episodes, so too did each of the other aspects I wanted to study in telling the story of the collective actions of this class. This meant that I examined the teacher’s story, and the whole-class discussions and activities, for evidence of emerging standards for acceptance of claims about data, patterns, and 74 explanations. In some instances, I found that the teacher privileged certain kinds of data or reasoning over others. In these instances, I regarded the privileged forms of language or action as the new standard. To trace the development of standards, I asked the questions, “What is the basis for acceptability of data or reasoning in this episode?”, and “Is this different from the previous standard?”. I wanted to examine, in particular, instances in which the standards appeared to change. I was interested in where these new standards originated, and in the interplay between new standards, goals, and the shared responsibility for maintaining the learning environment that is characteristic of a learning community. Standards are a dimension of discourse and mediated action that reflect growing awareness and understanding of the productiveness of particular actions in light of the goals and purposes of specific tasks, and larger activities within which they may be embedded. Essentially, I think of standards as momentary (that is, they are often specific to the immediate situation) in classroom interactions; they hinge on judgments made by one or more actors about the efficacy and appropriateness of particular actions or moves. However, I also see them as having an enduring quality; when a standard becomes privileged and the commonly used form, it often delineates a “bottom line” for acceptability. In some of the vignettes included in this study, standards for backing claims with data emerged in conjunction with the need for replicability in experimental results. Both of these standards represent a threshold above which future claims and reports had to climb. They did this by exhibiting the desired qualities with which the standards were concerned. Both teacher and students share responsibility, in a learning community, for setting and maintaining standards. Some standards were jointly held, and others originated with one situation and were generalized across others. Thus, I expected to see evidence of these across a variety of contexts, which included teacher-centered instruction before and after investigations, data-gathering sessions (whole—class and small-group) after investigations, 75 pairs interactions during investigations, and in individual records and reports of investigations, as well as in whole-class discussion about the patterns and explanations for them. Teacher-initiated standards were found in whole-class sessions and written materials, where the teacher set guidelines for action and speech. Generally, I looked for emergent standards by looking at the actions of the teacher over time, and asking “What are the criteria for acceptable work in this situation?” , and “How have these changed from those extant in previous interactions?”. Sinrilar questions having to do with the nature of standards in student interactions were asked. I also looked for situations in which students privileged certain actions over others in group settings. These were often evidenced by uptake on particular ideas or forms, lack of uptake on repeated forms, or insistence on a particular format or formulation in creating group products such as posters or data tables. There are a lot of different kinds of standards that one might look for, and perhaps detect, in the discourse system of a classroom over time, especially as the participants develop common ways of getting things done. I was particularly interested in standards that reflected some of the values of science, which include careful inquiry and record keeping, attention to the TOPE framework and the activity of describing substances, and collaborative activity in which the ideas and claims of all members are valued. W These standards apply, in many ways, to the other two aspects of mediated action that I wanted to examine. These are the use of mediational means, and the development of connections between actions undertaken in describing substances. In a real sense, I expected to see growing use of a set of mediational means valued in scientific circles as students and teacher moved from the T and 0 activities towards finding Patterns and developing Explanations. As certain mediational means were used, I expected that they 76 would become privileged forms, and constitute standards for action in a variety of settings. In order to trace the use of mediational means, (which include intellectual tools like concepts, organizational matrices, and terminology, as well as physical tools like lab equipment and measuring devices), I asked the question “With what is (are) action(s) being effected in this episode?” Episodes were selected that show significant shifts in both the means that were used, and the actions in which they were employed. I attempted in this sequence to landmark significant shifts; this led to the selection of several of the episodes included in the study. When students take action of any sort, they do so with mediational means. These means include physical tools (which might include the materials they need to do school tasks, as well as specific science equipment), skills and aptitudes that a student might have, and intellectual tools. All of these kinds of tools are context-related; there are those that come with school, like ideas about what students do, and what teachers do, and what school is for. There are others that relate more directly to the specific course and classroom; these include attitudes about science, knowledge about science content, skills having to do with the practical side of doing science, and ways of thinking that have Mediational means are present in every context. But, there are contexts in which the use of particular mediational means (including terms, important approaches and distinctions, and usages of the same) give us indications of students’ developing understandings of science concepts and the “identity kit”. Especially in terms of describing substances, these mediational-means-in-use include: - describing substances in comparative terms by using a single feature across both - focusing on the salient property of the substances in explanations for observed phenomena instead of issues of technique (including care, order) or properties that are independent of the phenomena, like sample size 0 exploring in order to understand the system, rather than to try to get it to do something or to get neat results. 77 0 making important distinctions, or using terms that include these distinctions, in negotiations about what is possible in groups. W The last of the features of mediated action that I wanted to examine was the development of connections, or logical consistency, across sets of actions in describing substances. One way to describe this quality involves considering the actions of scientists versus those typical of students (or other novices to describing substances). The scientist, having worked at describing substances as a member of a community that does the same, would be likely to demonstrate a set of practices and ways of thinking that get the job of describing done in relatively efficient ways, and with results that would be valued in that community. The approach that the student or novice would take, however, might be much less efficient and produce results that would not be as valued in the scientific community. This is because the community has developed standards for describing substances, and these standards reflect the common practices (including concepts, common understandings, ways of investigating, and ways of thinking) of that community. In looking for connectedness and logical consistency, I asked the questions, “In what ways does this action build on previous actions or information in describing substances?” and, “Does this action reflect an understanding of common scientific practices in describing substances?” When students are working on describing substances within the context of school tasks in a classroom community, their mediated actions are most often context-specific. Yet, they are involved in what I have termed multiple nested contexts, or a kind of play- within-a-play situation. They are doing science in school, which changes the nature and purposes sometimes. They are also working as members of pairs, groups of four, and the larger classroom community, each of which has incumbent on it certain socially-determined roles and expectations. Meanwhile, in all of these multiple contexts, the students are working to move from the vernacular to the more scientific. 78 The questions that are important here have a lot to do with the ways in which their actions support their understanding of the activity of describing substances. In a lot of ways, this is the crux of the “identity kit”. In looking for evidence of logic and connectedness, situations in which individuals make and defend choices for action are important, but may be rare. In other words, the choices may not be explicitly discussed, but instead just made on the basis of assumptions about the nature and purposes of the activity. Examination of individuals acting in a variety of contexts on a variety of tasks should give an indication of the logic or connections they see in what they are doing, and the connections that they may not see. Further examination depends on questions like, “In what ways do these actions build on previous ones and further the activity of describing substances?” in examining individual segments. Yet, the larger estimation on this count comes with examination across segments. Evidence of this kind of understanding would emerge in exanrination of a series of snapshots of the same individual or group across several contexts or tasks. Evidence across the series might include situations in which students examine recorded data to determine patterns; or in which students look carefully at techniques to try to eliminate systematic errors in testing procedure that might be related to results, or in which students re-examine and retest clairrrs or propose alternate tests which validate a claim. Summary Each of the aspects of mediated action reported above became an analytical frame through which videotapes of the teacher and class, lesson plans, and teacher reflections were examined. As noted above, episodes were often selected because they represented landmarks in one or more of these qualities. As far as possible, the development of each of these qualities was traced through the instructional sequence in order to form a “big picture” of how the actions played out in the evolving contexts of the classroom. Constantly 79 interacting with these evolving actions in the public discourse system, and in fact often engendering or qualifying them, were an equally complex and important set of mediated actions in more private settings-- individuals writing in logbooks and on other written work, and working pairs and groups of four negotiating ideas and meaning as they worked to describe substances. CHAPTER 4 Introduction This chapter is comprised of ten episodes that represent a larger story that evolved over a seven week period in the classroom. As noted in the previous chapter, episodes were selected that would give a sense of the ongoing story, while allowing closer analysis of some of the many interactions that this story entailed. In particular, I sought episodes that represented the rich nature of classroom speech and action. I wanted a collection that would be true to the larger story and still give views of the range of interactions in which students were involved. My first purpose as I wrote this chapter was to tell the story of what went on in the classroom. Clearly, I could not include it all; however, in selecting episodes I did seek to balance the story by using a variety of data sources as different views of it. Thus, the teacher's story, reconstructed from video tapes of classroom sessions, lesson plans, materials handed out in class, and audio taped reflections, forms the background against which the various student episodes are displayed. And these student episodes give us views of students working singly, in pairs, in groups of four, and as members of the larger classroom community-- with “snapshots” of each of these configurations situated within the progression of the larger story. Transcripts drawn from video and audio tape illuminated students working in pairs and groups, and also reflected the character of whole- class interactions. These transcripts are complemented by individual students' writing in logbooks, by posters created within the groups, and by excerpts of interviews conducted after the instructional sequence. Each of the episodes reported here depended heavily on one or two of these data sources, but analysis relied on corroboration and cross-checking between sources and across episodes, in order to develop the character of each episode and phase in responsible ways. 80 81 I created a timeline (see next page) in order to visualize how each of these episodes supported the larger story, and to examine the kinds of data included in each of the episodes in relation to others. Each of the specific activities around which episodes were depicted are located on a chronological timeline by day, and briefly described. The episodes are sorted into two groups: those that represent discourse events in the whole- class arena, and those that represent events occurring in more private settings (groups of four, working pairs, or individual writing in logbooks). The major pieces of data for each episode are listed to the right of the diagram, and these are boxed and numbered by the phases they represent (explained below). This timeline is intended to give the reader a sense of the overall organization of the episodes, as well as some insight into the ways that this structure played out in the analysis. The story told below is divided into four phases, each representing a different view of the nature and purposes of the activities in which the teacher and students were involved within a particular timefrarne. While my initial intent was to create one continuous story, in my efforts to do so I found landmark events, around which the nature of the story changed dramatically. These landmarks had most to do with changes in public understandings about the goals of activity in the classroom. For example, Phase I is called "Getting and Recording Data in Colored Solutions", and represents a general characterization of what the students and teacher were doing in the included episodes. A general focus on generating and recording data was characteristic of the episodes included in this phase. The next phase, called "Getting Good Data in Colored Solutions", represents a shift in goals toward a focus on the quality of the data that was being generated and recorded. Similarly, a large shift occurs to delineate the beginning of Phase 11], "Looking for Patterns and Developing Explanations in Colored Solutions". Phase IV, called "Developing the Concepts of Mass, Volume, and Density", deals with the ways in which the teacher and students built understandings of these concepts after the Colored Solutions unit, including making important distinctions between them in discourse-based classroom interactions. While this 82 d) (b instructional time 6 Figure 1: One representation of the goals of discourse-based science instruction 195 The four dimensions of discourse I used as analytical frames (goals, standards, mediational means, and connectedness) were useful for looking at the relative positions of each of these students at the end of the instructional sequence. Also useful was the graphic drat I proposed in Chapter 1. This graphic represents a range of statements, ideas, and conceptions that students and teacher might exhibit over the course of instruction. As instruction proceeded, the range was expected to narrow as certain forms were privileged over others, and as standards for accepted speech and action came into play. In the 7 following section, important findings about how individuals made sense of the actiivities, and the standards that they established, are examined. Goals and Standards The students’ work during the initial investigations with Colored Solutions, in which they were exploring and recording observational data, was notable for the general absence of differences in status, participation, and engagement among the students. This was probably due partly to the absence of stated standards that would have privileged some approaches to experimenting widr the solutions. The high levels of engagement and relative absence of status differences are general features that were apparent in this classroom whenever students were working in pairs (see Kurth et al, 1995). Very early in the sequence, we observed some students had spontaneously established gdals (in making their own sense of the activities) that would later be privileged, while others had not. Adam, for example, noted which color was on top when recording a successful stack, while Lisa did not. Similarly, Chet sought to replicate his most interesting results while he coached the more impulsive Donnie to slow down and use more careful technique. In the whole-class session, participation was maintained by the teacher’s acceptance of all claims as valid, as long as they represented the privileged form (in effect, a standard 196 by which claims were judged relevant or not), stacks of one liquid over another. Thus, any student who wished to make a verbal claim in the format of ‘color A over color B’ could participate. Later interactions indicated that many students who nominated stacks followed their progress closely during the validation process. Significant in maintaining engagement, however, was that each claim carried equal weight among others (though more students may have supported one than another, for instance). When the groups began working on posters, a clear status hierarchy was evident in one of the groups (and casual observation suggests, most of the other groups as well). For F this particular group, the development of this status hierarchy and its effects is examined in detail in Kollar, Anderson, & Palincsar (1994). Lisa, the least academically successful of the students in the group, was often ignored when she made substantive suggestions and was often excluded from the consensus-building process. This exclusion may be largely due to the limited range of mediational means with which she had been involved up to this point. Apparently, other members of her group saw her as not meeting minimum standards for the cognitive work they were doing, as evidenced by their lack of uptake when she made suggestions, even good ones (ones that were scientifically correct and would have added to what the group had already proposed on the poster. This is a pattern that we have seen in many other case studies of group work (e. g., Holland et a1 1994, Kurth et a1 1994, 1995, Striley & Richmond, 1993). It seemed to be especially salient when the students were working in groups of four. In the other group, the text and drawings that ended up on the poster seemed to be determined by social default, rather than any subgroup determining standards for what should be included. The dynamics of this group were characterized by conflict between Emma and the two boys, Chet and Donnie. For dreir part, these boys seemed to be most interested in making drings hard for Emma, and in the processes of doing activities rather than the quality of the products. Thus, their poster work was characterized by repetitive 197 arguments about who would do what, and under what circumstances. Emma ended up making the poster almost single-handedly, and in so doing applied her own standards for what counted. She did this with assent from Chet and Donnie, who watched and commented on her work. During the final phases of instruction, Lisa, Donnie, and other low-status students were largely silent in whole—class discussions and activities which required public nomination. Taking evidence from their work on the posters and later endeavors, their participation patterns seemed to be closely related to their limited understanding and use of P many of the mediational means that had become privileged forms. Similar mixed results appeared in more private conversations involving these students. All of our students participated fully on some occasions, but the more academically successful students were clearly more successful in incorporating scientific uses of mass, volume, and density into their conversations. This differential participation emerged most dramatically as contexts for instruction changed, and students were asked to flexibly apply their understandings to new situations. When I made the choice to move to a teacher-centered model of instruction (during Phase IV, as students worked to refine dreir understandings of mass, volume, and density), students who had made the initial connections between the stacking behavior of liquids and the salient property, like Adam and Sandra, were ready. Their understandings of this property (and the others under study) would now be furdrer developed and refined; they had webs of understanding that related their work in Colored Solutions (and Sorting Terms for Mass, Volume, and Density) to the situations they were encountering here. For students who had not made this connection, however, like Lisa and Donnie, this instructional mode was less likely to be fruitful. Having not made important links to properties as the causal factor in the observed phenomena, these students were less likely to gain furdrer understandings of these concepts during the series of events over the ten days 198 following Colored Solutions. They were not ready to propose statements of comparison, since they had not been able to make clear distinctions between these properties earlier. And, their work in Sorting Terms for Mass, Volume, and Density had been peripheral to the activity of reasoning out the placement of terms that went on in groups of four. This peripheral work may also have been the case as the pairs worked on these terms, since conring from this setting with strong understandings would have supported full participation in such activities in the larger group. While this is not a certainty, I did not see evidence in examining the pairs interactions of substantial negotiation beyond the role each person took in the groups of four. Mediational Means and Connections The most successful students, Sandra and Adam, were able to stay widrin the range, and to capitalize on instructional events to make sense of the concepts of mass, volume, and density as these became the privileged forms. Both of these students began the unit widr a pretty typical set of vernacular constructions, and both gave indications early on that drey had not yet made important distinctions between some of these properties. As instruction progressed, these students were consistently most involved in the conceptual work of the activities, often taking responsibility (or setting minimum standards) for acceptable work in the groups and pairs. In these roles, they pioneered the use of some of the msdigtjgnngsans (like terminology and routines) drat helped them to benefit from the instructional sequence. They were most able to pick up on contextual clues about what was important at each stage, developing senses of the importance of connectedness in the ways that they understood the concepts. At several points, Adam and Sandra seemed to push the top of the range (on the graphic) by leading their peers in using privileged forms. Other moderately successful students, like Chet, Emma, and Amy, at times appeared to have good command of privileged forms. Depending on the task and their 199 roles, they were sometimes moderately successful and at other times not so. Their understandings seemed to be characterized by less consistent use of the mediational means that their more successful peers fully incorporated. For them, connections were sometimes obscured by difficulties in understanding what was to be connected, or why. These students seemed to be able to set standards for their own work and the work of others, but sometimes these seemed to be inappropriate for those who fully understood the task and concepts. As a result, their standards were often compromised by personal agendas in the face of their lack of deeper conceptual understanding. Yet, as a testament to the resilience of these students, they often succeeded at tasks by attention to the structural or “school” features, which for them were the bottom line. By the end of the instructional sequence, a third group of students (which included Lisa and Donnie) had effectively fallen out of the range of accepted actions on the graphic. For them, at some critical junctures, links and connections were not made. For Lisa, I suspect that this trend began with her limited involvement in the conceptual work of figuring out the Colored Solutions and the limited range of mediational means with which she initially chose to work. Her confusion continued into subsequent instruction; without a solid idea of what the solutions did, she was unable to construct networks that fit her experience and the concepts taught in class. As a result, she withdrew from attempting the conceptual work, and instead took on supporting roles that would scaffold her into positions to do passable work on school tasks. But, even this was difficult for her. Donnie, on the other hand, eventually understood the stacking order patterns, but did not focus on the properties of the solutions as the salient cause. Instead, he believed that techniques like the order in which the liquids were added made a difference. This was a persistent belief with him, and when he was asked to develop an explanation, he did not understand why his ideas were anything but correct. This put him in a compromising position in developing links beyond Colored Solutions. He was not ready for the 200 subsequent direct instruction and focus on terms; to him, these were not a logical next step. As a result, he participated marginally in the conceptual work during this phase, preferring instead to exert social influence in being a full and vocal member of his group. As a result, few fruitful negotiations of meaning took place in his presence, and he too, fell out of the range of privileged forms. Implications for teaching practice In the instructional sequence reported here, I (the teacher) was committed to establishing a discourse community in the classroom. In doing so, I wanted students to make their own sense of the tasks by populating them with their own goals, and in so doing to begin with the mediational means with which they were most familiar. As they worked on describing substances, I expected that they would establish standards for what counted as good work, and that they would begin to understand connections among and between their activities and with the activities of scientists. This kind of instruction is quite different from what happens in many science classrooms, in which a transmission mode is predominant or in which students work within tightly prescribed sequences of hands-on activities. To me, the sensemaking and thinking about the full range of structural, practical, and conceptual considerations was more in keeping with my goal of scaffolding both linguistic and conceptual development, together with the full range of mediational means for describing substances in our classroom (and thus the development of a discourse community). Swales’ six criteria for a discourse community, elaborated in Chapter 2, resonate well with what I attempted to promote in teaching students about mass, volume, and density. Again, briefly, these six criteria are: 0 a broadly agreed set of common public goals. 0 mechanisms of intercommunication among its members. 201 0 participatory mechanisms are used primarily to provide information and feedback. 0 use and possession of one or more genres in the communicative furtherance of its aims. 0 some specific lexis, 0 a threshold level of members with a suitable degree of relevant content and discoursal expertise. When we compare the kinds and nature of interaction that are assumed in a discourse community with the range and nature of interactions in a traditional classroom, we see some marked differences. These differences are most marked in terms of the presence or absence of common public goals, the range of intercommunicative mechanisms, the uses for participatory mechanisms, and the recognition of members with significant expertise in content and discourse. While more traditional classrooms usually involve the use and possession of particular genres to further their aims, and command a specific lexis, it is worth noting here that the range of genres may be more limited, and the lexis may be less a product of discoursal interactions within the classroom, and more closely reflect what is found in textbooks. The overall picture that emerges here is that teaching to support the establishment of a discourse community entails a set of interactions that are vastly richer than those in a traditional classroom. Establishing a working discourse community that helped students to learn about describing substances involved the teacher in two ongoing processes. The first process, creating and maintaining the discourse community, included establishing reasonable baselines for each of the six criteria listed above. That is to say, the teacher laid out a variety of endeavors for students, and then assisted them as they worked on the tasks, allowing them to apply what they knew from other settings, vernacular language, and familiar genres to their learning. As they worked together and individually, the teacher established participatory mechanisms that supported student ideas and inquiry, rather than the more common and artificial school authority hierarchies. The teacher was also willing to flexibly tailor tasks and teaching avenues to the perceived interests and questions of the students, while keeping overarching goals for conceptual learning in mind. In all of these 202 different activities, the teacher was consciously seeking active engagement by all, primarily by structuring interactions so that each individual could fully engage based on the knowledge and experiences that they initially brought to the setting, and on the accumulated common experiences that they encountered together with their classmates in the instructional tasks. In addition to working on the functioning of the classroom as a discourse community, the teacher incorporated the second process, that of constructing new mediational means and privileging more scientific forms over others. It was this process of constructing and privileging that ensured conceptual coherence and growth along the continuum towards the scientific canon. Considerable care was taken in this process to ensure that realistic standards were established by students and the teacher, since it was this process of privileging that most often caused some students to disengage from the activities, based on their lack of understanding of the privileged forms. Balancing participation against privileging became the teacher’s constant focus as the instruction unfolded. Privileging in this classroom was an ongoing process that involved the actions of the teacher and the students. It occurred in three major forms, which included explicit teaching, coaching as a peer, and crafiing rules for activity to ensure a particular approach or product. In the first, the teacher overtly privileged one form of language, goal, or action over another, and explained why he did so. For instance, in Colored Solutions work, I privileged certain kinds of data (in the form of ‘liquid A over liquid B’) in the whole-class setting, as students nominated interesting phenomena that they had observed. This had the effect of limiting the kind of data that students could nominate. The danger in this kind of privileging lay in considering how many students might be excluded by this kind of restriction on claims. I was fairly confident, after having watched many of the students work with the solutions, that few would be excluded at this point. In accepting claims, I 203 affirmed each claimant’s work. This affirmation worked to keep them engaged, and willing to continue to work on the problem. At key points, privileging also helped students to be ready for direct instruction in the scientific canon, in this case mass, volume, and density. Instances of students privileging some forms of language or action over others can be seen in their poster presentations, and in discussions between group members when they disagreed about how to proceed. Coaching as a peer occurred mainly between students, but sometimes involved the teacher as well. Quite often, this kind of privileging began with students’ questions about how to resolve particular conflicts or disagreements, and other students’ suggestions often provided the impetus for settling on a preferred or more efficient way of doing the task. This kind of privileging was observed frequently as students helped each other figure out how to make the liquids stack, or as they asked the teacher for help in doing so. In the learning community environment, the teacher tried to give feedback rather than answers, and was seen more as a valued community member rather than an external authority. His coaching and the coaching from other students often took the form of laying out options for discussion, or questioning what the students’ motives were for doing particular things. Once the issues were raised, ensuing discussion often led to selection or design of a preferred way of accomplishing the task. Crafting the rules for activity to ensure a particular approach was almost entirely the teacher’s domain, and was one of the principal considerations in the ongoing modification of instruction on the basis of students’ work. This is kind of like teaching a bunch of kids the rules for basketball and sending them out to play. Their play highlights their weaknesses and strengths, and as the teacher or other students coach and referee, the individuals and teams adjust and eventually play better ball. For instance, when the students reported their initial stacks of Colored Solutions, many conflicting claims were made about which stacks were possible and which were not. Instead of deciding which of 204 these were correct and telling the students these answers, my (teacher’s) choice was to engage students in the kind of validation process common among scientists who get conflicting data, i.e. to retest each set of conflicting claims. In this way, students’ efforts were focused on what I regarded as productive investigations into the behavior of the solutions, and they were encouraged and enabled to participate fully. While the teacher’s word still had a lot to do with what happened, he more commonly set the ground rules and then stepped back to see what happened. One feature of this kind of privileging is the relative lack of direct involvement of the teacher in the actual investigation or activity. Crafting the rules in this way always involves a certain amount of guesswork amidst all of the well-laid plans, and intimate involvement with the students’ activities along the way is essential to acheive satisfactory gains. Still, sharing explicitly the features of the task, including limitations, is important in developing ownership of the task among students. Said another way, the students must be able to see the activity as a part of the broadly shared set of public goals in order to own and make sense of it. These three forms of privileging lay out some of the ways that teachers who are committed to discourse-based instruction can scaffold students into more scientific understandings. They involve a range of roles for the teacher, some of which are atypical in more traditional classrooms. Essentially, when a teacher commits to establishing a discourse community, he or she must be willing to step from the center of attention and authority, and let the students and their ideas take the spotlight. Once this is done initially, the process of careful monitoring begins as the teacher works to balance the two processes elaborated above. This view of teaching essentially recasts what many teachers regard as their biggest challenges: teaching content and motivating students to learn. This study suggests that reforrnulating these two issues as a single challenge, that of constituting a classroom 205 discourse community around content-based studies, may open up a number of avenues for drinking about how to meet these challenges. When motivation is considered the problem, extrinsic solutions are suggested, but it is intrinsic changes we seek. In accepting the discourse-based formulation, teachers encourage students to bring their own approaches to bear on a problem as they are engaged deeply in it, and then scaffolded as they attempt to reason through the problem using new tools and ideas. This formulation validates students’ intrinsic values, and works with them to effect change in understanding of the content. It demands much of teachers and students, but holds considerable promise, as well. Research-related connections and issues: This study builds on our understanding of middle school science instruction by providing glimpses of the mediated actions of students and teacher that fit together into a more coherent picture of the whole sequence. A classroom can be seen as a collection of individuals that sometimes act as a whole, or it may be viewed as a collective within which individuals act. These two points of view, represented here by the stories of individuals and the story of the collective, directly shaped the decision to look across settings within the classroom in order to characterize understanding and related action for individuals, while uacing the development of collective understandings. The essential characteristic of this analysis is a belief that neither the individual stories nor the collective one should be told out of the context of the other. When these stories are told together, the result is a much richer representation of the complex interactional system of the classroom. Yet, the story told here is far from complete. Interactions in the classroom, like many other human endeavors, are often rapid-fire, emotionally laden, and themselves represent “first drafts” of formative thought. By nature of our role as observers, much of our “take” on these interactions are from appearances. 206 We cannot know what goes on in the minds of our students, and whether we have taken what they intended. All we can do to ensure some validity is to push for certainty in checking a variety of data sources, rechecking with other researchers, and looking for the “ring of truth” in our analyses. The story that is reported here is excerpted from a much larger one that is complex in nature. Selecting excerpts is, at one level, making choices about what to show and what to omit. While much time and energy was devoted to the selection of excerpts, the researcher acknowledges that the selected excerpts may not represent the larger story accurately or completely. My hope is that the representation is close enough to give the reader confidence in my “take” on the events recorded here. In all instances, my own best sense of what was a true representation guided these decisions. The findings of this study extend beyond those which are reported above, to include some important considerations related to the design and conduct of the study itself. In effect, this study was all about developing mediational means for the activities of analyzing and improving science teaching. As such, this study attempted to create a synthesis of key ideas from the conceptual change and sociolinguistic research traditions. Each of these traditions includes some powerful mediational means for analyzing classroom learning and teaching, but each also lacks some tools that are necessary in understanding what goes on in the rich and fast-paced interactions of a classroom. The conceptual change approach captures quite well the content-related issues of what students learn, but lacks sufficient attention to the contexts of learning which can often determine just what is learned and how. The sociolinguistic approach, on the other hand, characterizes the contexts of learning well in focusing on the social aspects of teaching and learning. What it lacks, though, is a set of tools for the detailed analysis of the science part of the language and activities of the classroom. In building on these two traditions, this study was unique in creating tools that draw on both traditions and create a more powerful synthesis. 207 In Chapters 1 and 3, I propose some of the tools that helped me to examine this classroom with both traditions in mind. Key among these tools is Figure l, which illustrates how I have thought about discourse-based instruction that builds scientific understanding. Keeping track of the range of accepted or privileged forms, and where students position themselves by the roles they take in classroom interactions can tell us much about what is being learned and by whom. This graphic gives a simple, overarching framework for instruction that can assist teachers in selecting and designing activities that build understanding on conceptual and linguistic grounds. It illustrates how the process of privileging by teachers and students can affect individual student outcomes, as well as the emergence of new and more powerful mediational means in the classroom community. It can also be useful to researchers examining teaching and learning, as a heuristic for thinking about the relative goals and positions of students in instructional settings. A second tool, the TOPE framework (of techniques, observations, patterns, and explanations), lays out in simple terms an alternative to the “scientific method” that is common in American classrooms. These four activities of scientists essentially direct students’ attention to some of the different aspects of scientific work. In doing so, it also suggests language that is likely to engage students in authentic work that includes their own ideas. The students in this study naturally understood that techniques, in order to be most valuable, had to result in recordable observations, for instance. If they didn’t, they were noted as the negative case (what not to do), and not repeated. Observations were only valued when they were recorded, and students quickly learned that the more precise and detailed observations gave them more ammunition when disagreements arose. These examples illuminate some of the value of this framework in discourse-based instruction. And, they further suggest that carefully crafted, simple linguistic touchstones like these can give students the overarching organizational pictures they need to be able to build webs of understanding of the scientific enterprise. 208 The third key tool that emerged from this study was the four dimensions of discourse used to examine the interactions in this classroom. These dimensions were selected on the basis of their individual foci, as well as on the unified whole that they make when taken together. Building on Wertsch’s idea of mediated action, these dimensions allow examination of the sense that students make of tasks and activities in school science, the intellectual and physical tools they bring to bear on these activities, the standards that they establish and modify that affect their claims and results, and the connectedness of their actions. Comparison of these dimensions with Swales’ criteria for discourse communities showed that these dimensions reduce some of the detail in language use that were Swales’ focus, but give a broader picture of the scientific nature of the students’ work. These dimensions provide a rich set of approaches to the problem of characterizing mediated action in the classroom. With the development of these tools, I have laid the groundwork for further study that builds on the synthesis of the conceptual change and sociolinguistic research traditions. This study, for instance, foregrounded the sociolinguistic approach, which meshed well with the commitments of the teacher. I wonder about crafting other approaches that foreground the conceptual change aspects, and that might give more vibrant pictures of other kinds of classrooms, particularly those in which higher cognitive demands are the rule. In each case, I believe that the approach must involve a re-synthesis of these two approaches to anive at a powerful and appropriate set of analytical tools. This means that developing new tools, or mediational means, will help us to learn more about teaching and learning situations. This investigation also raises further questions about teaching and learning about mass, volume, and density. As mentioned previously, these concepts seem dry and uninteresting to many students, and the instructional sequence examined here gave some clues about why this is so. Where these students are at a given time in terms of the range of privileged ideas, concepts, and language has a lot to do with how ready are for this kind 209 of instruction. When they are ready, the instruction makes sense as a logical extension of the privileged forms that is within grasp. When they are not ready, it may bewilder or confuse students who have not developed the supporting mediational means to understand it. Given this dynamic, and the continuing problems that students like Lisa, Kyle, and Donnie face, further explorations of systematic scaffolding along the instructional sequence seem warranted. Are there ways that we can better support students who come to the instructional setting with reduced language or mathematics skills, low self-esteem, or a fear of science? In our observations, we noted specific points at which some students were excluded by their group, or removed themselves from the most fruitful interactions in an effort to save face. We also noticed that some students have difficulty maintaining interest in work that is hard and requires thought, largely because of the available alternative, which is purely social interaction with classmates. Questions about how best to scaffold these students along the learning continuum seem to have much to do with establishing a positive working culture in which these students are full members. At present, we haven’t fully understood the problems these students face. While this work adds some to our understanding, a wide range of research efforts is needed to more effectively characterize the challenges, and suggest possible solutions. Another field of questioning has most to do with the nature of the concepts under consideration here. For instance, what are some the best combinations of representations of these concepts that work to help students develop rich understandings of them? In this study, we worked primarily with density comparisons by floating and sinking first, and then broadened our study to other areas. Are there more fruitful ways to approach these concepts? How can we ensure deep engagement by all students in concepts that seem to be so far removed from their daily lives? In the final analysis, it is the traditionally marginalized students by which we should judge the success or failure of any curricular program or teaching approach. If we can find ways to richly involve these students and move them towards the accepted canonical 210 understandings within the heterogeneous classroom, then we can call our efforts a success. Today, opinions vary on how well we are doing at teaching science. All agree, however, that we do not serve a significant number of students well. It was questions about these poorly served students that drove this study. We have learned something about them here, and something about us as well. Yet, we have much to learn as we continue to face the challenge of ‘science for all’. APPENDIX A INSTRUCTIONAL MATERIALS 212 Journal Writing: Patterns and Explanations in Colored Solutions 1.What patterns did you find in the ways that the liquids acted? What explanations can you give for them acting the way they did? (Now look back at your data from when you and your partner made stacks in vials and straws.) 2.Does all of your data match the pattern you wrote about above? Does all of it have to match? What pattern made sense to you? 3.Do you have any questions about the colored solutions that you are wondering about? 213 LEARNING LIKE A SCIENTIST ABOUT COLORED SOLUTIONS By now, you probably know quite a bit about colored solutions and how they act in different situations. Can you predict what will happen if you drop one colored solution into another? Can you predict which stacks are possible to make and which are impossible? Can you explain some techniques for making good stacks? You Ieamed about colored solutions in the way that scientists learn when they are doing research: You developed techniques for studying how colored solutions mix and stack; you did experiments and made observations; you found patterns in your observations; and you tried to figure out explanations for the patterns that you found. By comparing results, testing, checking, and doing experiments over, you were able to get results that everyone could agree about. If you think about how you studied colored solutions and Ieamed about them, you may realize that there are some important differences between the way that you Ieamed about colored solutions and the way that you usually learn in school. For example, you Ieamed without anyone telling you the answers, you Ieamed by sometimes being wrong, you Ieamed from arguments, and you didn’t really finish learning. Let’s talk about these special ways of learning from research. Learning without telling. In school you normally learn by reading about new ideas or by your teacher explaining them to you. Scientists who are doing research can’t learn that way, though. If no one knows about something, then there is no one to tell you! So when they have to, scientists learn instead by doing research: by developing techniques, making observations, looking for patterns, and developing observations. Doing research is a lot of work, but it is the only way to learn when there is no one to tell you the answers. Think about what you have Ieamed about colored solutions. There was nothing to read about them, so you didn’t Ieam about them that way. Can you think of anything that you Ieamed because your teacher told you? What did you Ieam from your own experiments? What did you Ieam from experiments done by other members of your class? Learning by being wrong. When you are learning in school, you normally try to avoid being wrong. You try not to make mistakes in your work because you don‘t want a bad grade. If you give a wrong answer in class and the teacher corrects you, you may feel embarrassed. Scientists like to be right, too, but they know that when they are working on a difficult problem, they can only find good answers by trying out dozens of ideas that don't work. When they are doing research, even the best scientists are wrong more often than they are right! Scientists often have to try a lot of 214 different techniques that don't work before they find one that does. They often find that their observations or data are not as good as they had hoped. Scientists keep searching for new techniques and observations, though, because they know that they need to try a lot of different techniques before they can be sure of their results. Scientists even have a special name (hypotheses) for ideas about patterns and explanations that might be right, but that they aren‘t sure about. Scientists have Ieamed that even incorrect hypotheses are often valuable because they lead to new observations and better ideas» Scientists who are good at coming up with interesting hypotheses and ways to test them are important valuable members of the scientific community whether their hypotheses turn out to be correct or not! Think about your learning about colored solutions. Can you think of a time that you tried a technique that didn't work? What about a time that you thought you saw something but later changed your mind? Do you think that there was anyone in the class who was never wrong? Can you think of a time that an incorrect idea led to a discussion or some experiments that helped you Ieam more about the colored solutions? When you are trying to Ieam about something by doing research, ideas that you later change are not something to feel bad about. Those “incorrect” ideas are an important and valuable part of learning. Learning from arguments. Normally you try to avoid arguments in school. If you get in an argument and get angry, you will probably feel bad, and you are likely to get in trouble. Scientists don't like arguments that leave people upset and angry, either. They think of those as 'bad' arguments. On the other hand, scientists know that good arguments are an important part of learning by doing research. In order to find patterns and explanations that they can all agree about, they know that they will have to consider many different ideas in order to find some that work. Scientists say that they have had a good discussion or a good argument when it helps them to Ieam and improve their ideas. For the scientists, learning is as important as winning or losing. Can you think of a time that the class had a good discussion or argument about colored solutions? How did it help you or other members of the class learn? Learning without finishing. Often in school when you finish a chapter or a section of a book it is done. You don‘t have any more questions, you stop thinking about it, and you go on to the next chapter. Scientists doing research, though, hardly ever finish learning. Even when a project ends, they almost always have ideas that they still aren't sure about or questions that they 215 would still like to answer. Scientists know that good questions (like good hypotheses) are important and valuable. How about you? Can you think of any new experiments that you would like to try with colored solutions? How about explanations; can you explain why the solutions act the way they do or how they were made? What questions would you like to answer? Maybe some of those questions can help the class to Ieam more about colored solutions or other substances. 216 Tfiflfi—fT—‘fi' "film" T“— W‘T—offi‘_ :_ ,______ _- s-. Developing and learning mum Otrying to figure out how to make interesting things happen with substances, like stacking different liquids or dissolving something fast or slowly. Quasi-ling carefully and recording what they see Ousing one's senses (and instruments) to notice details as well as the obvious things when you compare substances and changes in them. Making careful notes and drawings so that you can tell or show others what you observe. Finding patterns -looking for patterns in the data from your observations. Sometimes, testing your ideas about patterns to see if they always work is important. Developing explanations about substances 'explaining the patterns you found, and matching patterns with reasons why they happen. Often, scientists develop ideas to explain something, and then later change their explanations when they see new patterns. So, your ideas can change, and you can write new explanations to replace old ones. 217 COLORED SOLUTIONS Colored solutions are substances (actually mixtures of substances) that are very interesting if you observe them carefully and watch what happens as you mix them. Your will have a chance to study these solutions like scientists investigating new and unknown substances. You will have to develop techniques for doing experiments with the solutions, make and record observations from your experiments, look for patterns in your observations, and try to explain why they act as they do. Later, you will discuss what you have Ieamed, first with your group, then with the whole class. Our goal is to find some observations, patterns, and explanations that everyone (or almost everyone) in the class can agree about. You will have to figure these out for yourselves, though. No one is going to tell you the answers! Let's start by talking about techniques. When you mix colored solutions together, you often end up with a muddy brown mixture. If you work very carefully, though, you can figure out techniques for observing what happens to the solutions before they mix together. Two good ways to start studying colored solutions are dropping one solution into another, and making stacks in straws or in vials. There are lots of other techniques for studying colored solutions, too. Maybe you can think of some of them when you start working. So now it’s time to start studying colored solutions. Here are some suggestions to get you started: ideas about what to do: -With a straw: -Flrst, figure out how to make a liquid stay in the straw using your finger over the end. Then try to stack two colors in the straw. Show your partner what happens. If they mix, try reversing the order of the same two colors. Remember to write down (in your journal) what you try, and what happens as you go. -With a dropper: -Pour some of one solution Into a vial. Now, try to carefully observe what happens when you drop another colored solution into it. Show your partner. Try this again with the same solution in the vial, and the third color in the dropper. Write down what you try and what happens in your journal. - z. - One way to tell whether you are recording as a scientist might is to pretend that you are writing instructions (techniques) and descriptions of what you see (observations) for a friend that is in another class. As you write, ask yourself it they would know what is going on just by reading your notes. It not, you may want to add notes to make your techniques and observations more clear and complete. 218 Colored solutions experiments and journal 1. Start by having two members of your group studying the colored solutions in straws and two members working with droppers. Take notes in your journal about what you find. Use the special journal format. 2. Compare your results and look for patterns that are the same for the two kinds of experiments. 3. Study the colored solutions in other ways. Use the Question Cards for suggestions. Take notes about what you observe and about your theories in your journal. You will need to communicate with each other while you are working in your groups. After you are done, your groups will need to communicate with all the other groups about what you have found. You can do this by making a poster to present to the class. Making a poster to communicate 1. Make a plan for your poster. It should be a page in one of your journals showing: 0 what ideas and results you are going to present to the class, 0 how you will arrange them on your poster. In addition to words, you might use drawings, charts, tables, or graphs. 2. Show the plan to your teacher and discuss it, then get poster board and markers and make your poster. 3. Two members of your group (will present the poster to the class and discuss your results. (The other two members will present the next poster.) Whatever you write or draw on your poster needs to be big enough and clear enough for the whole class to understand it. When you make your poster and discuss it with the class, these things are especially important: 0 showing that you have observed and described the solutions carefully, - describing patterns that you see in your results and your theories about how to explain those patterns, - communicating clearly about your observations and your ideas. 219 Your Poster Should Include: 1. Both words and illustrations. 2. At least one idea (or special technique or observation) from each person in your group. 3. Something about your techniques. For example: 0 What special techniques or ways of being careful helped you to make unusual stacks or observe interesting things? -What are some of the special techniques that you tried that didn’t work? 4. Something about your observations. For example: - What stacks of two or three solutions did the members of your group make? - What are some observations that the members of your group made about floating and sinking or stacks that you are we. are possible or impossible? 5. Your ideas about patterns and explanations. For example: - Dropping. Can you list all the possible combinations of dropping one color into another? Is there a pattern to which ones make layers and which ones just mix? 0 Stacks in straws. Can you list all the possible stacks of two colors? Can you make any stacks with three colors? Is there a pattern? 0 Connections. Are there any connections between the patterns for the dropping experiments and the patterns for the stacking experiments? - Explanations. What makes each of the different liquids act the way it does? APPENDIX B INTERVIEW AND TEST DATA 221 TEST ON COLORED SOLUTIONS, MASS, VOLUME, AND DENSITY 1. Predict whether each colored solution will float or sink in the other solutions below. If you disagree with the class prediction, put the class prediction and why you disagree. When you drop red solution into clear, the red will When you drop green solution into clear, the green will When you drop red solution into green, the red will 2. Predict whether each of the stacks below is possible or impossible. Write “yes” if the stack is possible and “no” if it is impossible. R R G C R G G C C G G R C G R 3. Predict which side will be heavier for each of the balances below and explain your answer. 100ml 100ml 222 Which side will be heavier? Why? 100ml 200ml Which side will be heavier? Why? 4. Fill in the blanks below with the words mass, volume, or density. Stones sink in water because they have a greater Heavier objects have a greater Larger objects have a greater We use a balance to measure Measuring cups are good for measuring “Weight for the same amount or volume” is does not depend on the amount of a substance. It is the same for a large amount or a small amount of a substance (like green solution). 223 Raisin Wooden Block Water Raisin &» Look at the two diagrams above, then write three statements comparing the wooden block and the raisin with regard to mass, volume, and density. Mass: Volume: Density: 6. Use the words mass and volume in your answers to these questions: What do we mean when we say that a W has “more candy” than a marshmallm? 224 What do we mean when we say that a mtmmflgw is “bigger” than a Wage bu? 7. Use the space below to describe an experiment that will tell me whether alcohol is more or less dense than red colored solution. You can use any equipment that you would like. Draw a picture of your experiment if you would like. If you do, be sure to explain your picture well enough so that other people can understand it. Explain the W that you would use and the Mm that would help you decide whether alcohol is denser. 225 My experiment to find the density of alcohol. 8 Which is heavier, a ton of gold or a ton of water? 9. What questions do you still have about what we have studied? 10. Demonstration: Use the spaces below to write your responses to the demonstration done in class. You should write one statement about mass, one statement about volume, and one statement about density. Mass: Volume: Density: (11 waa ONO) 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 226 GROUP 1 POSTER PLANNING Adam: What are we supposed to do? Nick: Man, I noticed one thing. Red's is never at the bottom. Adam: [taps on mike to test it] What? Nick: Red's never on the bottom. I think it's more buoyant than anything. Lisa: That's what we're supposed to write down. [Adam points something out in Nick's joumal.] Nick: That's on stacks we couldn't make! Adam: I knew that. I knew that. [Sandra laughs] Lisa: Nick, she wants to see you. [Adam comments on how Nick is not supposed to be here.] Nick: I'm the censored person who's not supposed to be here. Sandra: Alright. Nick: Alright. I say red is a more buoyant liquid than anything. Adam: More buoyant? Let me turn back. [flips back in his journal] [Both boys looking at "Whole Class Data" in journals] Nick: It has less buoyance. 'Cause look at the overall thing. Adam: There's stacks we made with droppers, red's always on top. Nick: Yep. Adam: And... Nick: Nuh, ugh. There's one we made with... clear... and red. But, we didn't use red. So you're right. All the one’s we used with red...that we used. [he shows his journal to Adam] Adam: Yeah. Not over here in straws. We made one with red in the middle. Sandra: Green is mostly always at the bottom. [not heard] Nick: Yeah, so it's mostly on top. Adam: Red's almost always on top. (to Sandra) Write it down. Nick: And G's almost always... G's always at the bottom. Sandra: (to Adam) I'm smart. I can figure it out. Nick: Except on this...When you're mixing or trying to make a stack and you're using green, green's always on the bottom. Lisa: (to Sandra) Techniques...why are you writing... Sandra: (to Lisa) I don't know. Adam: I don't know though. See the thing is, here's another example of where red's on top too. Nick: Yeah, but um... You have a good point there. Sandra: Did you say at the top? Lisa: Patterns. No Sandrall Patterns and explanations. Sandra: I'll write it at the top. Adam: The thing is look... Most of the time the stacks we couldn't make, red's on the bottom. But twice it's on the top. Most... oh, look at this, look at this! Clear's almost... on the stacks we couldn't make clear's almost... Lisa: [interrupts Adam] And green's at the bottom. [they ignore her] Sandra: [writing] Red's almost always... Nick: The one's that we couldn't make with straws are always... the majority of them are green on top. 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 227 Lisa: (to Sandra) No, it's supposed to be "red is almost always" [Sandra had written "always almost." She fixes it.] Adam: And look at this, all the one's that green are in, it's at the bottom. Nick: I know. I noticed that. Sandra: At the top? Adam: (to Sandra) Put, green's almost always at the bottom. Nick: And clear and red are usually in the middle or the top. Sandra: (to Nick) You write! [hands him paper] You're goin' too fast. Nick: Alright... [he starts to write as Adam and Lisa talk] [Lisa goes to say something, opens her mouth and Adam makes fun of her. Lisa giggles] Adam: Ah, spit it out. Lisa: Green is almost always at the bottom, isn't it? Adam: What is? Lisa: Green is always at the top. Adam: No, green is almost always at the bottom. Lisa: Bottom... Oh, yeah. [Sandra has been looking at notes] Sandra: On this um... [They're too busy listening to each other to listen to Sandra] Lisa: Red is on the top, and clear is in the middle. It goes red, white and clear. MR. V COMES OVER, LOOKS AT PAPER, AND TELLS NATE TO CHANGE HIS HEADING TO "PATTERNS" Lisa: Wait, I mean... [Adam is ignoring her: she stops talking and asks Mr. V if she can go sharpen her pencil. He says yes, and she leaves. Mr. V leaves] Sandra: You know right here... Adam: Let's put it this way... Red.. Sandra: Five out of seven times green is at the bottom. Adam: Okay. (to Nick) Five out of seven times green is at the bottom? Sandra: If you're counting the stacks you made. Adam: Okay. Nick: Five out of seven times... Adam: Green's at the bottom. Sandra: And red's at the top. Lisa: (to Nick) Let me write. Sandra: (to Lisa) Okay, 5 out of 7 times green is at the bottom. Adam: (to Sandra) Look at this, look at this...[no one listens: so to himself] Mix, mix, mix, mix, mix, mix.... Sandra: (to Lisa) Do you want me to write it? [Lisa asks her to say it again, and she'll write it.] Nick: (to Adam) We've got to average this up. We've got to add up all the times that red is on the top... and we've got to average it. Adam: No we don't. We don't need to find what percent. [mocks] "Well, sixteen percent of the time..." [Sandra is still telling Lisa that sentence for her to write down.] Nick: (pause) Alright. We had nine different things down here, right? And on mine... Sandra: Let me find urine. Oh, here it is. [All but Lisa (who is writing) check joumals.] 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 8O 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 228 Nick: One, two, three. Three times. Let's see how many times I got... [All but Lisa looking in their own journals from 1-26] Sandra: (to herself) Red... Lisa: (to Nick) And... what?... the clear? Sandra: (to herself) Red stack... red stack... [counting on fingers] Lisa: Nick, listen up!!! Nick: (to Lisa) Just a sec! [Rex from another group mocks Lisa, and she briefly talks to him.] Nick: [looking at journal from 1-26] Alright, there's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. There's 8 times we used red in this. Sandra: Are you counting the straws too? Nick: Yeah. [looking in journal] One... two, three... four, five, six. Six out of those eight times red is on top. MR. V MAKES ANNOUNCEMENT ON TIME LEFT Adam: [looking at whole class data] I only had seven. [He looks on Nick's joumal.] [Adam puts head down, and then turns journal back to 1-26] Lisa: Why are we..[?]..? Sandra: (to Lisa) Well, we have to hurry. Lisa: Alex, you're a nerd. Sandra: (to Lisa) Just come on, don't fight. (to Nick) Now, what'd you say? Nick: I said, out of my notes there were eight times we used red in the colored solutions, and 6 out of the 8 times red is on top. Sandra: Okay, go ahead, write whatever he said. Adam: We've got enough of that, now we need some... wait a nrinute; don't we have enough patterns and explanations, now we need some observations and techniques. Sandra: I got seven. Nick: I have a technique. On how to mix, and how to get something on top. Adam: (softly) Oh, boy. Lisa: Wait, we haven't wrote clear yet. It's always in the middle. Nick: Clear. Well, let's look here. [looks in journal] Clear usually it mixes. Sandra: (to Lisa) Clear usually mixes. (to group) Right? [looks in journal] Well, clear stacks on top green on mine. Nick: Well, let's look on this. Let's look on the class data. Adam: I've got red eight times. [he's been looking at his journal for a while]. Lisa: No, clear’s in the middle. I say clear is in the middle. Adam: Well, pretty much that's what it is: red on top, clear in the middle, and green on the bottom. Nick: [looking at journal from 1-26] Nine different tests. Nine different tests, and out of those... one, two, three, four... [Sandra looking in her journal] Lisa: (to Adam) Clear is in the middle! Adam: (to Lisa) I know, that's what I said. Nick: ...five, six, seven. We had nine different tests, and in seven of those tests... clear mixed. [He's looking at his data wrong-- 7 times clear was used out of 9, but one time it stacked- #8] 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 229 Adam: (to Sandra) Just put, just put red is the most buoyant and green sinks. Lisa: Listen, listen... Sandra: (arms up to both Adam and Nick) Tell her what to write, okayll Adam: (to Sandra) That's right you don't have it anymore. Nick: (to Lisa) Red is the most buoyant. [Adam and Sandra look at Lisa] Adam: Put that. [Lisa puts hand over eyes] Sandra: (to Lisa) Write it. Lisa: Somebody else write! What happens to the volume of water when it freezes? 230 W A. It stays the same. B. It increases. C. It decreases. D. I don't know. If you think the volume changes, why does this happen? Different from Student Choice circled pretest? (+,=,-) ReasonLgiven Adam C. It decreases. Yes (-) When something gets cold, the volume decreases. When it gets hot, it increases. Lisa C. It decreases. Yes (-) The volume changes because at first the water is a liquid then it turns in a solid and stays in one spot Kyle B. It increases. Yes (+) because when the water freese it becomes more packed together. Sandra A. It stays the Yes (-) No reason given. same. Why do you think that hehum balloons rrse rn arr? Student Response Adam Because the pressure outside the balloon is greater than the pressure outside the balloon. Lisa I think they rise in the air because there is so much helium in the balloon. Kyle because the moucles move fast and rise the balloon. Sandra No answer given. 231 WES What happens to the volume of water when it freezes? A. It stays the same. B. It increases. C. It decreases. D. I don't know. If you think the volume chagges, why does this happen? Different from Student Choice circled pretest? Reasons given Amy A. It stays the N o No reason given. same. Ella C. It decreases. Yes (-) Because the molecules move closer together. Donnie B. It increases. N o No reason given. Chet A. It stays the Yes (-) No reason given. same. Why do you think that hehum balloons use in arr? Student Response Amy because it thris to fill the space and raises to doe so. Ella The gas is expanding. Donnie No answer given. Chet Helium balloons rise in the air because helium is a much lighter 232 W What happens to the volume of water when it freezes? A. It stays the same. B. It increases. C. It decreases. D. I don't know. If you think the volume changes, why does this happen? Student Choice circled Reasons jiven Adam B. It increases. Because needs more room to contain its consistansy. Lisa B. It increases. Because ice is thicker and its kind of like a pudding. Kyle C. It decreases. 3 changes because the cold air pushes the water own Sandra B. It increases. The water freezes up and gets heavier. Why do you think that helium balloons rise in arr? Student Response Adam Because helium is lighter than air. Lisa because they have so much preasure and air in them that they just flow up and take off Kyle because it is to thin for the gravity Sandra They have nothing to weigh them down and helium is lighter than air. 233 W What happens to the volume of water when it freezes? A. It stays the same. B. It increases. C. It decreases. D. I don't know. If you think the volume changes, why does this happen? Student Choice circled Reasons Jiven Amy A. It stays the No reason given. same. Ella B. It increases. the air molecules bunch together + make the liquid rise Donnie B. It increases. It will get realy hard. Chet C. It decreases. No reason given. Why do you tlunk that hehum balloons rise 1n arr? Student Response Amy beacuse their lighter then the air Ella Because helium is lighter than air. Donnie Helium is push the balloons up. Chet No answer given. 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