....”1.
a .
fix
5%.;

s. at:

a. 1
a}:

6.1....)

3'}
‘5‘

3

.
11h:

 

It: ,,
f3: '

a";
'3

=3

.2:

 

 

a, .
14.1. 2 .
mom» 1

£2... :3. s
3 «rue.

ism? .
an? .

 

THLSIS

L/
7 r M

This is to certify that the

dissertation entitled

Learning to Write and Writing to Learn: A Study
of Affordance, Participation, and Appropriation
in Elementary Inclusion Classrooms

presented by

Ruth A. Wiebe Berry

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

the Ph.D. degreein Special Education

 

Mug

Major professor U

 

Dme August 15, 2000

 

MS U is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution 0-12771

 

__._-.'v ‘-

 

___—

E iLlBRARY §
{Vlichigah State '5
University J

 

PLACE IN RETURN Box to remove this checkout from your record.
TO AVOID FINES return on or before date due.
MAY BE RECALLED with earlier due date if requested.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DATE DUE DATE DUE DATE DUE
t ‘ f 2

, “:1 ’1 070}; 0
JUL .1 l Luuc

UL13.0 003

H
APR 2 6 2005
go 9 7: (HI

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/01 chlRC/DateDuapBS—p. 15

u: \R
; i Hit it
HID N

 

9F.
‘9“ ““\h

 

 

 

LEARNING TO WRITE AND WRITING To LEARN:
A STUDY OF AFFORDANCE, PARTICIPATION, AND APPROPRIATION
IN ELEMENTARY INCLUSION CLASSROOMS
by

Ruth A. Wiebe Berry

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requ1rements
_ for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of Counseling, Educational Psychology, and Special Education

2001

LE-XPQ

:1": YOU}:
LED 1.\ b

..- _~.'\v In"
\ "'“ u
Ltd‘s 5 .u .
i T" " A
'3; 3‘ W; .3
u‘ u -

HA.

-.~ is .

I
~ ‘ ' .t ‘
....-r- :a- 0'..." d . ~m
'- 5‘ s;n\.§.‘ i. ~
1... ‘_ ¥
.

' h. - ‘l
V" "mm Ts
-‘ck‘lk ~.\H‘~

lfl‘

 

 

 

|
N. '
:,-*‘;1’-;‘ \ .F; .I' .l
u. Mata. L‘s .\
D- l
“ ..‘:R.~ ‘fi.
ta) VILE‘

 

 

t
u "‘1.

ABSTRACT
LEARNING TO WRITE AND WRITING TO LEARN:
A STUDY OF AFFORDANCE, PARTICIPATION, AND APPROPRIATION
IN ELEMENTARY INCLUSION CLASSROOMS
By

Ruth A. Wiebe Bert)I

Despite assumptions of academic and social benefit for students with learning
disabilities, what is not widely understood about inclusion classrooms is the nature and
extent of variation in providing disabled students with access to the general education
curriculum. A deeper understanding of what such “access” means and its relation to
teachers’ epistemological assumptions is critical to the improvement of instruction in
inclusive contexts. This interpretive study examined teacher beliefs, classroom features,
interpersonal interactions, and lesson discourse in order to understand what learning
opportunities were afforded for students with disabilities in the research Sites, how students
participated in those opportunities, and what they appmm‘iated as learning. Writing
instruction was selected as a research focus because it permits teachers to utilize a range of
instructional responses in meeting the diverse needs of students, responses which may
reflect teachers’ theories about teaching, learning, literacy, and disability.

Participants included students and teachers in two urban elementary multi-age inclusion
classrooms. Videotaped Observations and field notes recorded classroom lessons, and
interviews were conducted with teachers and target students. Supplementary sources of
data included student writing samples and measures, the Slosson Oral Reading Test, school
record data, and a teacher temperament questionnaire. Data were transcribed and coded
using constant comparison.

Results revealed that, although teachers in both classrooms calibrated instruction for
individual learners, particular patterns of teacher discourse and social interaction were

associated with the types of learning opportunities to which students had access. In one

 

,. u ',~~ V'J
. - a \ x.
...~‘ A‘ “-C UAXkL‘" I
.uv“

l '1
- .....~— If t 5.
r"-o o 'D.. V ‘ ‘1'
_..~-‘\' 3

”:0. «p 2"
a.

u-u

,..‘...' «t-r"
~9~e-_.1..

7--" -“-> " ‘

.,;‘.-a. g. “Ric“: ~_( _.,

.
..~;.-.~>-‘-b‘
. .

Q I I
,-_....,A,.- ion-0o ‘n-
a l \ ‘
o-..~.‘ fi‘l‘. . u.- L- \ -“

-
~>.-~a—wo- ‘Oh '

- .. a I . . '
m‘ ....~r.~‘ '\.uA ~l‘l“-

 

 

classroom, characterized by a highly structured focus on individual learners, teachers
controlled the discourse, thus limiting opportunities for student decision-making and
problem-solving. In the second classroom, characterized by themes of community and
shared authority, teachers constructed discursive learning spaces to promote interactive
exploration and active student involvement in learning. Implications suggest that teachers
should implement a range of interactional opportunities in order to accommodate varying
goals and purposes for learning, rather than rely on customary or narrowly-applied
configurations. Additionally, teachers must balance attention to individual educational
requirements with classroom community building in order to accommodate diverse learners

as well as meet changing societal views about educational access.

Copyright by
RUTH A. WIEBE BERRY
2001

‘ .
T25 Roy), ;5 3,;

v

u

\

. ,-
~u\\\

 

 

 

 

" The best success takes the most risk." -- Author unknown
This work is dedicated to classroom teachers everywhere who, to achieve

success with all students, are willing to be risk takers.

vr‘"
.

_,.;...
\er . .i

l

.3» A ‘9 t
. .

. l .
r“-~-\‘.'-' 0”)"
..: ‘..‘-.\&..:3.‘ Or I...

.-
.>'<
\
.u.

I.

l t

w- 3)
Sunk;

$51”.

.
q

shat.)n z", 0.."

st...“ “.5

.
time: 2.4 ..

U- - nut; in.
-

"-no--<‘
- .. .

 

 

.

Zfé‘v

-.-qb Isl ILL}._\
.

or

n

9

‘3‘" I ”'5.
k..\. LUC‘t, "
I

if D.’ C;

....

.I
~..
I " 'W a...

l .

-\

“'bt

.
1 .

. it ~. an) “‘58:"

"TP’

v...; U,‘
h

”I?
3.,

v

 

‘."'.'~- . ‘
s._.} ”'0.‘1.n .
. -..ri “" -.
H.
“ '
“' "In
‘1‘“. "3-.3’v.
3&4.» .
P I
tar“,
‘l
- .gl Ia‘m .,,_.
' .l' l,.:
I‘M-”5.
\ A 1‘ gll .
‘ . .IQf- , ., ‘
a Eng.) ‘3‘ .
u.

 

In :11” "ii.

-¢.,.

‘5
‘ ,
a...J._.’\

I

9

 

I
~~cn

I».

u
G

4% It: as The R ._

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Someone once said that we are often so caught up in reaching our destination that we
forget to appreciate the goodness of the people we meet along the way. I have been blessed
by the goodness of many special people.

First, Iwish to express Sincere appreciation and thanks to my dissertation director, my
mentor and guide, Dr. Carol Sue Englert, for her constant and enthusiastic encouragement,
for providing me with multiple opportunities to learn, and for supporting me in countless
other ways. Thank you also to members of my dissertation committee: Dr. Troy Mari age,
Dr. P. David Pearson, and Dr. Jenny Denyer. Special thanks to Dr. Englert and Dr.
Mariage for insisting on high standards and for shepherding me through the shaping and
writing of this dissertation during one hectic spring and summer.

My deepest gratitude to the teachers and children who shared their classrooms and
lessons with me. This work could not have been done without the generosity of these
extraordinary teachers who care so passionately about all the children they serve.

I also wish to acknowledge the support of the Michigan State University’s
Distinguished Fellowship and the MSU/Spencer Research Training Grant Fellowship
programs in providing the financial resources that meant freedom to engage in full-time
study and research.

Finally, I am grateful to those who shared this journey with me--students who were
fellow travellers, faculty who provided models of academic competency, friends who cared
about my well-being. Most of all, I thank my family, especially my wonderful daughter,
Jordan, whose proud confidence in her mom’s ability to do it was a continual inspiration.
To my extraordinary husband, Paul: Your vision became my vision, and your presence and
personal sacrifice throughout the often arduous and exhausting journey made this milestone
possible. I will never be able to repay or even fathom the extent of the debt I owe you.

Not everyone realizes a dream. I am truly fortunate.

3r Iéfli—ES

:5 Ir FIG’. RE:

KLSé‘CRj-PT C 0 \ \ E

Researfl'. 0-3
SC "C: ."r. \‘i i
01:22.2: LEI J: C ”

_ ‘ ll
-

~',.-\'v-v- q

h‘r)“-

-.-..‘)... u

234.. RE REVIU
Sccx‘izrai \ ;r‘.\
liar-Risks 3
Lam; .15 .\
Litres as I)
ixzi‘fii‘» 38'

‘ . I
‘5‘Ifi ' ‘ “
..A.;,C) Oi AI? .r ‘
’ c u

y.
iHr.5\u.'
. I

. K ‘
Lnifl«rgao,
p~~‘
Dl\\.l~5‘-" P
- ._ _‘ \ .
l n he

c“ ("A \

93"»;
“1...": .' \
---L

.
Vu..d ‘v-H
M. ‘
tlf.
‘;‘\

 

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF TABLES ............................................. x
LIST OF FIGURES ............................................ xi
TRANSCRIPT CONVENTIONS ................................... x11
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION ............................................. 1
Three Lines of Research Informing the Study ....................... 1
Theoretical Framework and Nature of the Study ...................... 4
Theoretical Assumptions of the Study ......................... 4
Research Questions ..................................... 4
Selection of Research Method and Site ........................ 5
Organization of Chapters ..................................... 6
CHAPTER 2
LITERATURE REVIEW ......................................... 8
Sociocultural Views of Knowledge, Learning, and Disability ............. 8
Knowledge as a Cultural Phenomenon ........................ 9
Learning as Social Activity ................................ 9
Literacy as Discourse Competence ........................... 10
Disability as Culturally Constructed .......................... l l
Theories of Affordance, Participation, and Appropriation ............... 12
Affordances .......................................... l2
Participation .......................................... 2]
Appropriation ......................................... 28
Dimensions of Social and Academic Activity ........................ 29
Transmission/Acquisition Versus Participation ................... 29
Control Versus Collaboration .............................. 29
Unidirectional Versus Reciprocal Instruction .................... 3O
Discourse Patterns ..................................... 3 1
Skills Versus Holistic Models of Instruction .................... 32
Selected Reviews of Studies of Literacy Instruction for Students with Special
Learning Needs in Inclusive Classrooms ....................... 33
The Work of Englert and Colleagues ......................... 34
Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group ..................... 36
Gutierrez’ Line of Research ............................... 38
Purpose of the Study ........................................ 4]
CHAPTER 3
METHODS .................................................. 44
Design of the Study ........................................ 44
Rationale for Selection of Writing Focus ....................... 45
Unit of Analysis and Personal Perspective ...................... 46
The Setting and Participants ................................... 48
Description of Setting ................................... 48
Rationale for Site Selection ................................ 48
Selection of Target Students ............................... 52
Description of the Two Research Sites ........................ 53

vii

 

Set: 0:: T":
32T“01?
0222 f 313;: 3n
Nurses )5 D.
06:2,": 3:: r
02:2 mi: 525
".3 A2332 5.

ll '
.gqui. hn‘.r'
‘Lfl‘h-I} ""'

-I.‘tR

.‘_'.:...44

f'""'~ -v IE (I!

‘24.:5'l Til L .l
T3731! (0 "I,”
[‘85- N-»uus-

-
g .

\.-.~'. ' ‘0 O
-L.u\.u. “A .

T...‘. B.‘ .1 Xe.
.a 6' 6.1115 .
Tie N \".C'".:'

..V
'F"n *3 1'-
L‘..:.5 -. vi...

T‘- _ .,; Y‘ I
t ‘ 7‘ run
:1 \- ‘ 1‘. K L. L“:

Q
iidPJ'QIP o
\.-~.-1a Cd.

, .
r- - - ..
£13 325 a, it

. JOE-77.2 ‘Af'ti'

 

113‘?!) -
.. “ ‘~\.‘
1-; 7"" fl
s.._|~“\‘: “{r
. - \\
”'09 ’0
§rgr‘

 

l_l .
l\\\-4'
a. 4‘
\1 T’.‘ .
L4; --.
5' . Hr”,
\1;7"‘ . \r
i Q n

i' {'1'
3..., , ,
-‘.‘ I” \K T
n 3" '
‘ ‘IP.\'

 

 

 

 

Site One: The Team Room at Ellison Elementary School ............ 53

Site Two: The Inclusion Classroom at Watkins Elementary School ..... 56
Data Collection ............................................ 60
Sources of Data by Research Question and Site .................. 60
Description of Types of Data ............................... 61
Data Analysis ............................................. 67
Data Analysis Procedures ................................. 68
Establishment of Confidence ............................... 71
CHAPTER 4
RESULTS #1: THE ELLISON SCHOOL TEAM ROOM ................... 72
Target Students: Lanie and Richard .......................... 72
Structure of the Chapter .................................. 74
Teacher Beliefs About Writing and Instruction ....................... 75
The Systematic Nature of the Cuniculum ...................... 75
“Interwoven-ness” of the Curriculum ......................... 77
Board Work: Learning the Components of Written Language ............. 78
General Features of Board Work ............................ 78
The Public and Private Phases of Board Work ................... 80
Analysis of Board Work by Phase ........................... 85
The Phonics Center: An Extension of Board Work ................ 88
Learning to Put It All Together: Process Writing ..................... 91
General Features of Process Writing ......................... 91
Process Writing as a Public Event: Individual and Joint Tasks ........ 95
Process Writing as a Private Event: Expository and Narrative Writing . . 122
Analysis of Process Writing .............................. l3 5
Journal writing: An Unguided, Private/Public Process Writing Task . . . 137
Participation: Task Engagement and Social Interaction in Public and Private
Tasks ............................................. 1 3 8
Task Engagement in Public and Private Tasks .................. 139
Social Interaction in Public and Private Tasks .................. 145
Writing Achievement: What Do Students Appropriate? ................ 150
Lanie’s Writing Achievement ............................. 150
Richard’s Writing Achievement ............................ 156
Railway System: A Metaphor for the Team Room ................... 161
CHAPTER 5
RESULTS #2: THE WATKINS INCLUSION CLASSROOM .............. 163
Target Students: Marta and Dustin .......................... 163
Structure of the Chapter ................................. 164
Teacher Beliefs About Writing and Instruction ...................... 165
Writing as Authentic Communication ........................ 165
Journal Communication ................................. 166
Mailbox Communication ................................ 170
Morning Message: A Template for Classroom Writing and Conversation . . . . 171
Significance of Morning Message .......................... 172
Morning Message: Learning the Dispositions, Skills, and Conventions of
Writing ........................................ 174
Angie’s Role: Teacher as Conduit .......................... 182
Teacher Talk in the Morning Message Lesson .................. 189
Writing Workshop: Building Formal Writing Skills .................. 191
Teacher and Student Roles in Writing Workshop ................ 192
“Regular” Writing Workshop ............................. 193

viii

117:1: “357;“
11:22:31.???

0.1.“ "II”
Teacher iii; '

. I 7‘
. JAV‘IFJ" 0‘
\92' l ~u ,
y‘b‘li“ Nut-

. A
\it‘\\.‘-1

S'me'lri O: “

Alulsn

.‘ I
Pr~“~=”.\fi Tm I

1....5 D“- -

Iris

-
r ".1, 1* . ..
1-1‘. s.

.

. . .

\-'~F.v III ; Amn-

'..‘rr’..uh kn“...
.

'3de '3

35-55113 UJ‘J‘JI

123.. 1w

-“ -uux..'..

»

\‘nt... . ' )fi,‘
1...,

1‘ Db
”- o 1""
"'I") .
>UHS.J.S'\..\
C -- ..[
fink-h...”

”Q'li‘ *n 9 \,
. “5.1.“... ‘k

u I
‘1"“" I ms“ .0

0‘
a-n.‘

'-~-4ui\..*_ ,
.
a. \1..,.,, ‘
. M;
11C- but. -s.

-
E'.‘;' 7“,;n'
4 ~_.\

'\-s . u
A. _‘,' 91 n ‘
R\l\) 1““ “L

v
“—015: 1".” 4‘

.“
......§ 1.)“ “\H‘ ..

.. ‘1 ‘
alum“, _ .1
. "‘*~hr.r..“

5

.
Hm IL

hay-

.‘;"n-.
1L, 3‘ ‘ I’\r ‘”

”\I k

1. ,
\d‘. 1~i. t
W“ 1' '1'3‘; I
I \ xt‘l‘k .
!~.o-,‘_
'~-. 4

 

\‘

n h‘“.

‘ohfih 7""
.mr

 

 

Writing Workshop: General Description of the Persuasive Essay Episode
Writing Workshop: Practicing the Dispositions, Skills, and Conventions
of Writing ......................................
Teacher Talk in the Persuasive Writing Lesson ..................
Standardized Practice for Group Text Construction: Traces of Morning
Message .......................................
Summary of Writing Activity in the Watkins Inclusion Classroom .....
Participation: Task Engagement and Social Interaction in Public and Private
Tas s .............................................
Engaged and Disengaged Behavior .........................
Roles and Relationships During Whole Group Instruction ..........
Social Interaction During Small Group Work ...................
Writing Achievement: Marta ..............................
Writing Achievement: Dustin .............................
Writing in a Community of Learners ............................

CHAPTER 6
DISCUSSION: COMMON THREADS ACROSS CONTEXTS AND PRACTICES
Writing Instruction: What Was Afforded ..........................
Writing Opportunities and Classroom Organization ...............
Structure of Writing Lessons .............................
Curriculum Design ....................................
Attention to Individual Learning Needs .......................
Writing Instruction: How Students Participated .....................
The Meaning of Participation in the Two Classrooms .............
Engagement Aspects of Participation ........................
Roles and Relationships: Structures and Consequences of Participation
Writing Instruction: What Was Appropriated .......................
Remaining Challenges for the Two Research Classrooms ..............

CHAPTER 7
IMPLICATIONS .............................................
Opportunities Afforded for Students’ Learning .....................
Teacher Beliefs .......................................
Curriculum Design For Inclusion Classrooms ..................
Participation Types and Structures ..............................
Teacher-Student Interactions ..............................
Activity Structures ....................................
Appropriation and Learning ..................................
Methodological Implications ..................................
Limitations and Future Research Directions ........................
Questions For Both Classrooms ...............................

APPENDIX

------------------------------------------------

ix

 

198

202
212

214
216

217
218
227
232
244
251
257

261
262
262
267
274
274
276
276
279
283
288
290

292
292
292
293
295
295
296
298
299
300
301

1’ 7 '
.1; Av‘y;' \Fidnno‘
Lit . 1a..» ~|ub\.ns-
.

farm Dr.”

.S .
. .. ‘ H. '3"!
.=‘:.' (.1):er ._

0.. ‘ n _ ~ ' ‘
1.2x 33L- mac: 8.

I‘|‘~ 0-03. A ‘I
5.1.5 01 Tim 1

.|
a ‘?fi ‘
“~ I 7 0-4
a. llyfi 3h”- PCT;

’9
4"
V
r}?
EL)
. A-
~23
(1

_‘\
\&.m3”._
‘\:“-b.1‘>

n.‘1
‘ i
‘-: ' F\;~“.
"“ we .
r. r
‘1
2.8" I.
‘5

 

 

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1. Target Students: Demographic Information ....................... 53
Table 2. Classroom Demographics in the Ellison Team Room ................ 56
Table 3. Classroom Demographics in the Watkins Inclusion Classroom .......... 59
Table 4. Data Sources By Research Question ........................... 60
Table 5. Type of Data Collected by Site ............................... 61
Table 6. States of Task Engagement ................................. 71
Table 7. Types and Percentages of Teacher’s Talk During Public Board Work ..... 82
Table 8. Types and Percentages of Teacher’s Task-related Talk During the Dragon

Story ............................................... 120

Table 9. Types and Percentages of Teacher’s Talk During Morning Message ..... 189

Table 10. Types and Percentages of Teacher’s Talk During the Persuasive Writing

Segments ........................................... 212
Table 11. Example: Octopus Report/Persuasive Essay .................... 272
Table 12. Calibration of Individual Instruction .......................... 275

 

.

 

 

F ’ . 9‘0
' . MM.) \
.v 1 \ _
u- w
' ,.'I.,',..Z.‘..~ rug-v-
:.'.-.:o LALAu~uu. ..u...
T—qi Cr't"""v g:_,
Lat. In§nn&lu- -
I
..-A‘ ‘r—a.ap-1h".u
..-:' \u'gaukust . \-
:-!';i!flca'! ')'\9~‘¢
-—-:. L;;~S§‘\\.\ A\v
-";Ni‘n-; - ‘0 n .
La... .~ CC. . ..
' - - ..
"'J "I! oflc~~§ .
~¢~ R15..3..u 591..."
..-"‘ .P'g.' p-n
:"- L-x 5C‘..'C.
'.,.‘g -
' " "‘ ‘nw- ..-
... LLJC§rLM
:‘o " '
. - ‘n. . _ h '
:1... Lit-£511.:
Q
"'a‘i ‘
-1 L318 S "e'.
' - 1 i
n'.,,‘ . ‘
R""‘.ri - -.
. .. thug.“ 5 {‘1
..,_1s R _ 4
._"' \ “O|-" _ '
u 9.. $1.-.“§:\1‘
I
"'1" K. ..
"‘ '9 '7h‘r . _
. -. ~14‘1 \ t‘l
‘r~'< {if .
“'5. ""Hr .
. - l \Hid \ '1,
'K
\I~~ ..
' '- ~13 30;,“
.c"..
‘m: \qu.‘.
‘ 1‘14 “‘v
-A 31""
6.:‘!\1;~~'.
’ ‘4 5.6"
‘1
A“; q “‘~ .
' o ‘ .
.Iv§-.‘1‘\;‘.\‘v
'-.,n.
t.... D ‘..,_ .
“~L.” \c\|.
"ha.
“1 D .
. ~ .- _
r \ _
" --r. \ "
D
._~;‘a
"WW {‘1'-
._.u 5,:
\
' “a.
\‘:~‘D
' ~ 'o, ‘
i".
. 1.
,;‘.;-\'[
1 . q __
. “ti“:n

 

 

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1. Examples of field notes. ................................... 64
Figure 2. Lightbulb brainstorming sheet. .............................. 99
Figure 3. Graphic for silkworm lesson. .............................. 107
Figure 4. Congruence between written and Spoken text. ................... 1 17
Figure 5. Lanie’s web for the octopus report. .......................... 125
Figure 6. Lanie’s octopus report. .................................. 126
Figure 7. Richard’s octopus report. ................................. 130
Figure 8. Lanie’s expert pretest. ................................... 151
Figure 9. Lanie’s personal narrative pretest. ........................... 152
Figure 10. Lanie’s expert posttest. ................................. 153
Figure 11. Lanie’s personal narrative posttest. .......................... 154
Figure 12. Richard’s expert pretest. ................................. 157
Figure 13. Richard’s personal narrative pretest. ......................... 158
Figure 14. Richard’s expert posttest. ................................ 159
FigUre 15. Richard’s personal narrative posttest. ........................ 160
Figure 16. Marta’s expert pretest. .................................. 246
Figure 17. Marta’s personal narrative pretest. .......................... 247
Figure 18. Marta’s expert posttest. ................................. 248
Figure 19. Marta’s personal narrative posttest. ......................... 249
Figure 20. Dustin’s expert pretest. ................................. 252
Figure 21. Dustin’s personal narrative pretest. .......................... 253
Figure 22. Dustin’s expert posttest. ................................. 254
Figure 23. Dustin’s personal narrative posttest. ......................... 256
Figme 24. Learning Spaces: type, action, and direction of action. ............. 268

xi

Abn¥uo\-

(Mr "use

yJ'yc- r“

Lied to t. "‘1

I
1.56736, 57'.

F 1 -..
Ling‘f5 1w

&\ s.

' I
‘ 10 '
[561. LC :7, ‘

H.‘

SAA‘:

 

 

 

003

//
CAPS

[brackets]

italics

(parentheses)

[inaudible]

BOLD

Iner'

TRANSCRIPT CONVENTIONS

Indicates line number.

Short pause (each / equals 1 second)

Longer pause (2 seconds)

Marks very emphatic stress

Marks the asking of question or a questioning tone

Indicates normal pause in speech

Marks the end of a sentence.

Marks a very expressive question or comment

Used to comment on pitch, amplitude, quality of speech; or to indicate material
inserted into a quotation

Indicates actions accompanying talk

Used to indicate actions such as paralinguistic cues within a speaking turn (e. g.,
nods, pointing, demonstrating)

Indicates that speech was not transcribable due to poor quality of recording or
presence of other speech

Convention to draw reader’s attention to specific features of transcript
Convention used to draw reader’s attention to specific features of transcript,

usually at a level larger than the word, including phrase or sentence(s).

xii

The R 0:3"

tr.')m"). - r

IDI5'D‘~"'
m x‘ .‘
lrlrnitv.u-

11'. \kifiLQi’If

- i
in 0“; ‘1." p, 4"qu .
bLu‘Jb than ralk U\~u4\

I l ._ I
(13.1." Hé‘:—pr-n.- O P-
. “Sn-1 .\~a..1.--- .K. t

. . ..

....... .. 1'. 9‘94 ~e. '
I a . H a -.
"\u-K. in Irn\l u\ n -

‘_.iii"|‘i" a" "drum "n v
\~ .1..\...

1..»1.I1.L. \

I:- q..",'.:. - ..'.
,n . . ‘
«~qu LULIAAIOT: 51.1

I

‘~ . I ~

J, I"¢V‘afiaqgr‘ . F .
."‘ 51‘5”“. l'.‘ \..

\r..~l .
QAKV‘K "1! Ann \ro
I T" L \i r '-

l I

w-

and; ;~‘_ ._' .p
..x.u\ ‘5th ‘C “is 1.3,.
N\.
\n

*‘h-. 5'. 4“
"1"“: \UCU 5 .
‘ib‘ ‘ I
M. __- *v-4 -_
5 TI, ‘1‘‘ 33>c\\w~

:A‘l‘fin- y‘ ..
"WV-"1e 113'."

5
'31!
‘S ‘1 l“
'9 31 ‘1
. r-._
. mL at :4\
‘Q
. "\.“'I. .
‘I\ “1"“? 0‘? ‘1)
: V1 \1u_\§r
L?‘i'.\. ' ~
"y‘tlr } 0
“‘EQ‘UTED 0.. .
“
'-- ‘Do. .
1":“3 .A 5909
K r ‘
U\.\j‘.“-".H .
' \
‘¢.' -.".~ :
‘1..- “r .
~51 '1 M: ‘4.
64“-

 

Y .
I ‘-‘
s.‘ .
““5 \ 1.
”U.“ C"
._ ‘
‘. ‘.."4
“WM ".54
“.5 q

 

 

CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION

The word “interaction”..expresses [one of the] chief principles for
interpreting an experience in its educational fiInction and force...The
immediate and direct concern of an educator is...with the situations
in which interaction takes place. (Dewey, 1963, p. 43)

In the current debate over inclusion, several factors have been considered, but one that
is recently beginning to be investigated in a systematic way is how patterns of engagement,
discourse, and interaction support or limit access to opportunities for learning in inclusive
classroom environments. Educators often assume that students with disabilities who are
placed in “inclusion classrooms” are provided with meaningful learning experiences.
However, it is possible that contexts whose surface features may appear to be inclusive
may inadvertently function as yet another segregated environment (Haas, 1998), because
Characteristics of opportunities for engagement and ongoing discursive interactions fail to
PFOVide access to the general education curriculum for students with learning disabilities.

What is needed is a view of classroom life that looks beyond features of curriculum,
instruction, and assessment. This study focused on both academic content and classroom
interactions, the “ways in which the various actors play out their parts” (Erickson & Shultz,
1992, p. 473), two areas often held analytically separate by researchers, to provide an
Understanding of classroom experiences. Against the background of the classrooms’
contextual features, the study examined interactions between and among teachers and
Students to determine how social norms and classroom practices anQLthl learning
0Pportunities for students with disabilities, how students mm in these
opportunities, and what they W as learning.

hr L'n R r h I '

In this study I examined classroom features, interpersonal interactions, and discourse

to understand the instructional contexts constructed by teachers, and how different

:\_ ....T1... :03: a.“ Q C“
Seemxrrp.

.- 0‘ r
.3525 0151.33.71.51

v-

I
J; 3333 5335.126 .

113.2313: atfuh VD .:
1:2; resent. Lane .1

rvg‘th p h
.w: UncuOUL - O; .:

ivyhaeb" ‘..:.“.'I‘
‘5. band itt' s

Org ~‘.h

r‘uu- ,hsx Cm$e£u£r

“LL \na\‘"" 11'

'v-

“N e
"" film 1;:rn'W‘ 3'

r-‘I-ls
.

'1’
'ti
c»
:21
(L
5
(b
C)
D—o
""
ft.

 

 

instructional contexts resulted in differential participation opportunities and appropriation of
knowledge. Several important lines of recent research have begun to focus on the lived
experiences of students in the classroom. In one line of research, researchers interested in
defining and specifying social theories of learning have favored theories of learning and
instruction that acknowledge the agency of the student in his or her own learning. In their
seminal research, Lave and Wenger (Lave, 1996; Lave & Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998)
explored the notion of learning by apprenticeship. They described the activity of the
apprentice as “legitimate peripheral participation,” a way of learning by involvement and
participation. Consequently, learning is not exclusively an individual process; if it were,
low achievers would be blamed for their condition (as traditionally they often are).
Working from a similar theoretical stance, Rogoff (l 993, 1995) defined learning as
“participatory appropriation” and changes in development and learning as the
“transformation of participation” demonstrated by changing roles in activity. Thus, learning
occurs through participation in social processes rather than only in private and solo activity.
A second line of research focused on discourse and social interaction as the medium of
leal‘ning, identity, and positioning. In this line of investigation, what was examined were
Patterns of discourse and interaction that have meaning in local contexts, such as
Classrooms. Lemke (1990), working in the tradition of social semiotics, identified patterns
0f interactions that constitute characteristic and predictable forms of discourse, such as
Wience discourse, which he called “activity types.” O’Connor and Michaels (1993) located
Patterns of interactions that they called “participant structures” in classroom events, noting
how participant structures enable participants to orient themselves socially and linguistically
‘9 one another and to the activity. Cazden’s (1988) study of classroom discourse sought to
mlderstand what counts as knowledge and what occurs as learning, and how the resulting
Patterns of discourse affect the equality or inequality of students’ educational opportunities.
Harre' and Langenhove (1999), focusing on how discursive practice defines the rights and

duties of speakers and hearers, suggested, in their positioning theory, that changes in

.'
-QI -
.. ”"9 ;.H£U;eS-‘ “‘

27:1 '4 “line ‘31'6\:

X
12.1" 53*”

‘ ‘0‘
_.\\ 0E

3"“‘t a; {C C\.1. ::

5..“

Iii-:3“ {'14: Cou”'"3

‘ ‘. ... 'e
J~. 'LL A30 5‘ €Aa\.~"

~z n- ‘
Act-C ui-‘MJ\ ”I“.

g-aw, ”‘Nr .‘.'~.

~--.'\.. . '3‘”. ‘
mttrafsel 1“".‘.‘. (J

-.”":-4L . . . ‘
\us.}~.’lh .10“ 1.1: .‘-\

IILA‘
» l

- .3:¢'Li.'e 163.7 “ ' PT

'I

7“.“ a

a . “'4‘“
w...“ '

.AW‘ dun-1: a:

“LCM: to eukh Of

i325 on'

eia\\.'\‘-r '
Po... .
‘u‘ " ‘
: "‘0 llitidSl’OE
1H ‘

 

:-
\i
I 3‘1
~. h ‘
‘,.' ~
g” t ..
- ‘eMOl' \ “
‘ w
n.“ 'l] C
1:30: N333»
.~Q‘ '

 

discursive practices affect perceptions of personal worth. Fairclough (1989) contributed to
this line of research by using critical linguistics to understand the processes by which
language functions in maintaining and changing power relations in society.

A third line of research focused specifically on patterns of classroom life and effective
classroom instruction. Bloome and Egan-Robertson ( 1993) drew on cognitive
anthropology to examine how teachers establish classroom literacy communities and to
describe what counts as literate actions in those classrooms. Englert, Tarrant, and Mariage
(1992) looked at effective teaching practices and classroom interactions from the view of
social constructivi sm, extending the process-product research on effective teaching to
include instruction that provided meaningful activities in a social community emphasizing
dialogue to scaffold learning. Also working from a social constructivist view, Gutierrez
and colleague (1995; Gutierrez & Stone, 1997) examined communities of learners to

understand how the social organization of instruction in these classrooms organized
PTOductive learning opportunities that allowed learners to draw on the intellectual resources
0f both the individual and the group.

Specific to each of these lines of research is a focus on understanding students’ school
experiences by looking at patterns of classroom life and, specifically, the discursive
interactions between and among participants in the classrooms. This study extends the
1mOwledge on classroom interaction and “what occurs as learning” (Cazden, 1988, p. 3) by
Studying two inclusion classrooms comprised of general education and special education
Students whose teachers held distinctly different theories and beliefs about the instruction of
Students with learning disabilities. Looking at students at the periphery of general education
brings into sharper relief the classroom discourse, resources, and interactions and their

consequences for students whose presence in the classroom tends to problematize common

assumptions of teaching and learning.

 

T255313 Wk the i

' ' - l . ..
55:3: titans: .
-.-.b.»‘ and ~‘.\‘:~"~ -
-:u.o..u-Al m1“&\lL.--.T

P q - ~'
.1255- From 3 seem

t

ugflfi t ‘ .
Lat. .2 the reasons 1‘:
u..- \l- “K“
.;. .neDemJVL 1*“).

rats: betas eer‘. pets.

-p-'w- v44

. '1
~-.\u* 1.. (“Ci riCETTT‘CC:

viz->0 ‘~ 0."
‘\.: H .

1.: -
.. he pm 1': to 15

Elfin-l ~ L .
“Ilfiimngm Ci '

3
EL.

7‘»- ',
k~x fi‘
c511“.

omeen the

My: 01 insists:

 

 

I1 . I E I I I I E I S I
I] . I I . E I S I

This study took the view of sociocultural theory, which assumes social origins of
knowledge and learning and focuses primary attention on the need for educators to build on
the cultural and sociolinguistic knowledge of learners. These assumptions are elaborated in
Chapter 2. From a sociocultural perspective, learning is both individual and social, that is,
located in the relations between people and in the various conversations of which they are a
part (McDermott, 1993; Slee, 1997). Manset and Semmel (1997) argue that it is in the
interaction between person and environment that a synergism occurs; the combination of
person and environment is more than the sum of the parts. This study sought evidence, in
classroom talk and interactions, of how unique classroom features afforded differential
Opportunities for participation which resulted in differential appropriation of knowledge.

In the past 10 to 15 years theorists and researchers who have been interested in the
nature of learning in classrooms have increasingly focused on the nature of interactions
anlong and between the individuals who inhabit the classroom. In addition there has been a
Small number of insistent voices questioning the “pathognomonic” assumptions (a
disability is inherent in the individual student) (Jordan, Lindsay, & Stanovich, 1997) that
seem resilient in our system of education. These voices argue that individual failures are the
failures of schools to educate all children. Coupling these two lines of interest, this study
sought to examine instructional practices in order to determine how classroom interactions
deflue the learning of students with disabilities in classrooms where access to the general

education curriculum, rather than assigned disability status, defines learning experiences.
Wm
Three research questions guided the study. The first question,“What learning
oPportunities are afforded for students with disabilities in these classrooms?” sought to
make visible the resources provided by the classroom activity and instruction for students’

lflaming. I defined affordances as features of the classroom that exist previous to and

 

 

. .. i. .o- -
"(gamesmurfitbb

. - ;
13:137. act: it 6) are

4 fl. 0 "T. -
31:43: Quest -:~:

’yadLS. as; ' Atocs. ‘

T. L...‘ .
iue Luna £1.06)“er

z...” 1.“ t

‘ 'Y- "A" - .no 0

L. .gttétw m~ .
~

inc-n...” 4 .Y'

t“ 1

. ~\
~...-.§ . Unkisuii b k‘

{‘~”.~=.;‘ YL ‘
--~>-s5.1:..: S “.3

:zle 3:.~ ;“‘3 'e ard

"a“. .1

.. ‘wfi‘.’ :5

5C: «our {35 'i‘ec

 

 

outside of the students (i.e., attitudes, teaching techniques, curriculum materials) as well as
features of daily life in classrooms (i.e., grouping patterns, interpersonal interactions).

The second question, “What is the nature of students’ participation and engagement in
classroom activities and with teachers and students, and with what consequences?”
examined student engagement as well as the teacher-student and student-student
interactions, activities, and social processes that make up students’ educational experiences.

The third question, “What is appropriated by students for their learning, and how is it
appropriated?” sought to understand what students take from their school experiences as
learning. A difficulty of identifying what is afforded, the nature of participation, and what
is appropriated is that evidence of these constructs may overlap. For instance, the co-
created language and culture of the classroom may serve as an affordance (or a constraint)
for students’ learning and, in addition, may describe processes by which students come to
appropriate common knowledge for their own purposes. However, I attempted to define
and address the constructs separately in order to ensure that each received appropriate
attention in turn while backgrounding the other two. Problems such as this are more typical
of interpretive than empirical research, and their consideration may result in deeper
understandings of complex social processes.

WW1:

The nature of the research questions guiding this study required that data collection
and methods of analysis follow an interpretive tradition that relies on observation of
interactions transpiiing in naturally occurring contexts. Accordingly, ethnographic
techniques were used to identify and describe interactions between teachers and students in
the classroom, to understand what counts for knowledge and learning, and to determine
consequences of membership in the classrooms for students with learning problems.

The study, which followed several larger studies, specifically the Early Literacy
Project (Englert, Rozendal, & Mariage, 1994) and the Literacy Environments for

Accelerated Progress (LEAP) Project (Englert, 1998), was situated in observations of

'-

37:; IZSTJCCC‘ c...

- .1 -g
22:25:30 “as >C.CL.

‘""‘"'T'..Z’LJV to U: i I 21‘

5:113:15. response

I . . ‘

2:52 .zteracx. a: .
U .

_ _ ‘,_
Tie studs» to” r

- .‘ ‘ l '
at": Tifdifl III UT? l

"p. :R w—g. .

""--~-l&-u .e 163:3“.-

“I[An‘

q
a.“

~~~M 2‘ , .
f’“\iii:y IC‘.

 

 

writing instruction and writing activities in two elementary inclusion classrooms. Writing
instruction was selected as a focus of this research because it affords the teacher the
opportunity to utilize a wide range of instructional responses in meeting the diverse needs
of students, responses which may be reflective of the teacher’s beliefs about teaching,
learning, literacy, and disability.

The study took place in a mid-sized urban district composed of approximately 46%
Caucasian, 33% African American, 12% Hispanic, 5% Asian, and 1% American Indian
students, more than half of whom received free or reduced lunches. These demographics
were reflected in the research school sites. Teacher participants included two full-time
collaborative teaching teams each consisting of regular education and special education
teachers working in a multi-age, multi-ability inclusion classroom. These teaching teams
were selected for their contrasting views on the remediation of learning disabilities. One
team espoused the view that effective instruction for all students, whether or not they are
identified as disabled, is geared to students’ individual learning needs. Their approach
emphasized individual treatments in private settings. The teachers in this classroom
attended explicitly to each child’s unique learning and social needs through the provision of
appropriate individual learning materials and method. The other team believed that the most
promising approach to teaching students with mild disabilities involved immersion in a
general education environment modified to provide entry points for all students into the
literate discourse of the classroom, and which provided responsive teaching to all students
to appropriately meet individual learning needs. These two classroom environments framed
the investigation of how classroom discourse and interactions affect the learning of students
with learning disabilities in inclusion classrooms.

niz ' n

In Chapter 2, the Literature Review, I situate the study relative to the work of other

researchers and research paradigms.

In Chapter 3, Methodology, I describe and discuss the research methods, site,

3; message
I .
13C (.132? o. D:

:res 1: lessons 7:

 

 

 

participants, and techniques of data collection and analysis.

Chapters 4 and 5, Results #1 and #2 respectively, consider the nature of writing
instruction in the two research sites, the Ellison Team Room and the Watkins inclusion
classroom. In these chapters, I describe unique affordances to be found in each classroom
that support learning to write, the nature of students’ participation in instructional activities
associated with learning to write, and what students come to appropriate from their
classroom experiences for their own writing.

In Chapter 6, Discussion, I compare and contrast the two classrooms, identifying
themes and lessons learned.

Chapter 7, Implications, suggests practical applications of lessons learned, as well as

implications for researchers, limitations, and future directions for investigation.

hzeas: 2;}: . sense

.-:e.:'e.'. \Efl de rzt-e

:; - at eq'x') soc a: c

35:19? Dom F4;

“119:,- "m...

fbus

3:45:30 Act tIDEA. l

’2' of.
~tn’»:; .1161” 'JDN ',
‘*‘?A\r. .g

k fitting ms: :3

.
A‘ “-fii'u

‘w 46‘J mCiUS" \n :

 

‘ v
s KA) _ ?‘
Xk “:8 h
up..-
\‘fiit‘ a I
‘ b
. l
on 167‘?»
2‘...“

CHAPTER 2
LITERATURE REVIEW

Increasingly, schools across the country have initiated inclusive models of educational
service delivery despite controversies between the inclusion movement’s strong supporters
and their equally vocal opponents (Lipsky & Gartner, 1996; D’Alonzo, Giordano, &
Cross, 1995; Dorn, Fuchs, & Fuchs, 1996; Fuchs & Fuchs, 1994; Kauffman, &
Hallahan, 1997). Impetus for inclusion also stems from the Individuals with Disability
Education Act (IDEA). Indeed, the IDEA Amendments of 1997 have strengthened the case
in favor of the implementation of inclusionary policies and establishment of inclusive
educational contexts for students in special education (Boundy, 1998).

In keeping with the movement toward inclusive education, many educators have
shified their inclusion agenda from “first-generation” to “second-generation” issues (Lipsky
& Gartner, 1998). First-generation issues tend to focus on whether to do inclusion and the
fitting of special education students for mainstreaming. Second-generation issues address
hm to implement inclusion and focus on empowering all students. There is every
indication that this trend will continue for the foreseeable future.

This study focused on a second-generation inclusion issue, that of effective literacy
instruction in inclusion classrooms. The study gave particular attention to the nature of and
relationships between affordances and participation in two elementary inclusion
classrooms.

S . I I)? {K ll 1 . IE' 1'].

In this study of writing instruction for students with learning disabilities in inclusive
settings, I took the perspective of sociocultural theory, particularly a social constructivist
perspective on learning and teaching. Sociocultural theory posits that human action is
situated in cultural, historical, and institutional settings (Poplin & Phillips, 1993; Wertsch,

1991). Thus sociocultural theorists view knowledge as a cultural phenomenon and learning

 

. . _H\ II]. n
- .- x. cl .1 a,» MK N: sin .‘ww
. .n L N Y .5. 9.. '46 9w m? k r .o u Wt
q. ..: . : at C O r. m. e r m ...- N.
. 1.. u .1 a E S f. v: .0 1. mm 0. v R Ct
)} V a I” .r L '4 —‘- u ‘D a .‘ . ell.
.t‘. o. m ml. . i r.“ aw owl: \\ kw.“ m m “Wu .5 .nfiu. .3 WW
. , r a .e a . . r x. .a a. m . r.
0.. Wu 0 0 e T; .1“ _ Jim . . . x; . w .5 .5 .d
.11 «w .C «M. I: ”a“ "L \c. .5 - 1 Tu «MM f u... ... H P...
. ~1- 1m1 .0 . IN“ *5 \.. . .. c H “W. M.” 1.. I». %.M \(N F» Nd
«M. h Xx. P» «an . . .5. v: “a“ u. 7. -_.. V... .v~ ... .
.5 T .5 q . a s... : L m .. ... t .
“x. .4. .r. r. ‘L n . .
-u . . .

 

as social as well as cognitive. These tenets of sociocultural theory derive from the work of
Vygotsky (1978), whose explication of the theory has informed much recent educational
research.

Wu

Sociocultural theory views knowledge as constructed by the both the individual and
the social community. According to Raphael and Hiebert (1996), a social constructivist
view of knowledge is based on three assumptions. First, teachers and learners construct
knowledge through language. Thus, language and literacy are the foundations of students’
intellectual and social development. It is through language that individuals create
understandings together. Second, literacy (i.e., reading and writing) reflects “higher mental
processes” (V ygotsky, 1978) learned through their meaningful use across multiple contexts
within and beyond the classroom. Higher psychological processes are those learned
through social interaction, and might include metacognitive knowledge about text and
intentional strategies for learning from text. According to Vygotsky, all higher
psychological processes originate in social interaction. Third, learning is facilitated through
interactions among learners and more knowledgeable members of the social and cultural
communities within and beyond the classroom. Such knowledgeable others include
teachers, of course, but may also include peers, children of different ages and abilities, and
other adults.

From a sociocultural perspective, learning is situated, that is, connected to a
community of people who associate with each other over time around a common set of
interests, goals, and activities. Gutierrez (1995) connected individual and cultural or
community knowledge when she suggested that “the ways in which individuals interact and
use discourse represent the individuals’ instantiation and reinterpretation of culture” (p.

24). In the classroom, teachers and learners construct knowledge together (Palincsar, 1998;

Poplin, 1988; Raphael & Hiebert, 1996). To do so, teachers and learners talk and interact;

1 I ‘

A . ~ r! o 1
r.e...';r:ent C ......
' 3

23:33.21.) reprise
“‘ "’ axial com:

um- -'.b

v,>~.a—~ -I)"‘-' _’.
'1
~~b¢h‘ I ‘

   

‘ I ‘
(me-neg r ,3».

....‘ . - l a .
“ml: tztefaa a:

z... I“; '3” ‘ ‘
Nditys‘p‘en25 or
fo‘r: ‘ "
“filters: \-
w V"

.5‘."':~-4'._ n.
._-c:1\n\u;\ec c\

"1 J.
."\L (T

...‘i. . .
”Mike In.

 

 

thus, language and social interactions are the foundations of students’ intellectual and social
development. Children learn by participating in the communicative practices of the cultural
community represented by the classroom. Learning thus arises within both the individual
and the social community.

I . E' C

Gutierrez (1995) suggested that two views of learning language or literacy are found
in schools: literacy as the acquisition of procedural knowledge (forms of linguistic
knowledge and behaviors needed to display right answers) and literacy as acquisition of
discourse competence (includes socialization to academic discourse and membership in a
particular community). Historically and at present, students in many classrooms have been
and are recipients of incoming knowledge that is broken down and sequenced in logical
order for learning. Students are expected to acquire fundamental skills in preparation for
learning advanced cognitive skills (Brown et al., 1993; Rojewski & Schell, 1994). The
traditional model of literacy instruction in self-contained or resource environments,
influenced by medical models of learning disability which focus interventions on the
individual, typically entails the splitting of reading and writing skills into subskills, in
which students are individually drilled (Allington, 1995). Gutierrez (1995) affirmed that
special education classrooms are ofien characterized by teacher-centered activities that
represent knowledge as segmented into well-defmed skills. Sindelar (1995) noted that
traditionally, special education teachers are specialists in the diagnosis of weaknesses and
application of remedial strategies to individual learning problems.

A contrasting view of learning literacy has been developed by researchers invoking the
“community of learners” metaphor. Englert and Mariage (1996) list three attributes of
“communities of learners” classrooms. First, students are engaged in conversations with
teachers and peers about oral and written texts. Second, teachers apprentice students into
the cognitive processes that support literacy. Third, teachers employ participation structures

that involve students in literate practice, and allow for the gradual transfer from teacher to

10

gen 31 1h res; 3E1

. .434. 5 encor- ;‘S

5 k» y

r 3 ‘, "1
easement Oi 5mm

A
$1
SI}
r]!
C)
D...
B
U
' 1
ll“.
' ‘

:: firms on the \\ or

,3”. A I, ‘ .. '
.2:.C\~I1‘.lri€ RAT?"

-‘

may see 15 a part 3:

_- mammaes aft}

f'
pf)?“
\d

 

pcttt:men0n Md (1“:

 

 

student of the responsibility of directing their own cognitive activity. In this study, literacy
is viewed as encompassing far more than procedural knowledge or the individual
development of skills in reading and writing processes. Rather, this study defines literacy
as “ways of making meaning with and around text” (Michaels & O'Connor, 1990, p. 11)
and draws on the work of the Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group (1992) in
viewing literacy as a social accomplishment of a group. In this view, teachers and students
construct, through communicative processes, the norms, expectations, roles, and
relationships that define what counts as literacy and literate action in the local events of
classroom life: “Rather than seeing in students’ actions indications of ability, what we
actually see is a patterned way of acting or communicating that students have learned from
the opportunities afforded them in this and other classrooms” (Santa Barbara Classroom
Group, 1992, p. 145).

According to sociocultural theory, disability must be considered as emerging from the
nexus of individual traits and social environments. Vygotsky, the founder of sociocultural
theory (Torres-Velasquez, 1999), distinguished between impairment as a biological
phenomenon and disability as a sociocultural phenomenon (V ygotsky, 1993). Similarly, a
social theory of disability, which has been the core theory in United Kingdom disability
studies (Marks, 1999), also differentiates between “impairment” and “disability.”
Impairments, in this view, may or may not result in disability (Marks). Disability occurs
when society defines a group of individuals as being abnormal and excludes them in some
way from general society. To use a personal example, my myopic eyesight requires
correction (a biological impairment); however, myopia is not defined by our society as a
disability, and I am not excluded from full participation in general society because of the
condition. Thus, from a social constructivist perspective, characteristics of person and
environment may interact to construct a learning disability, and it further follows that it is in

the interaction between person and environment that a learning disability may be

11

‘ O - O
.r' one and L0“-

u—‘Mu

.I~'~e':”3n5 0‘ \i h

' A

2.2:; tic-rm .& .\

gnaw--

.l .. .
.i....3.-' tgbsfoomr

..
”‘-

. ..L ‘
.- asetat 1 tom;
5

.' ,
fig §-"- '

no.4...) 1111852 1 7 9..

u'.\\

4'

..--5..lsabltmes I

“it ..-.'- . '
than. teacher t

 

 

ameliorated. Ergo, failures to learn are not entirely individual failures but involve complex
institutional and contextual dynamics involving relationships between people, the
conversations of which they are a part, and the communities of practice to which they

belong (Forman & McCormick, 1995; Gee, 1992; McDermott, 1993; Vygotsky, 1978).

 

This study examined affordance, participation, and appropriation in two elementary
inclusion classrooms, and the possible relationships between what was afforded in
particular classrooms and the nature of the participation of students in classroom activities.
This section provides theoretical background for use of these constructs. It should be noted
that, although I consider all three to be critical elements in student learning, this study
primarily investigated evidence of affordance and participation in the two classroom sites.
Affordanm

In studies of effective educational practice, researchers must take into account the
opportunities that are afforded to students in any given situation. In this section I first
define the construct of affordance, its situated nature, and its importance for students with
learning disabilities. I then discuss domains of affordance that pertain to this study,
specifically, teacher beliefs, community, and discourse.

Definition, Affordance, according to Webster, means “to make available.” I
considered using the term “opportunity to learn” in the manner of Brock (1997), who
rejected notions of time on task as major indicators of opportunity to learn in favor of
functionalist views that seek to understand what constitutes a learning opportunity for a
particular child; however, redefining the “Opportunity to learn” construct was outside the
purpose of this study. Brown et a1. (1993) used the metaphor of “seeding the environment”
with ideas and concepts. I also considered the use of the term “curriculum” to describe
What I consider to be affordances; however, curriculum is ofien taken to refer primarily to
the content of instruction (cf. Udvari-Solner & Thousand, 1996). Gehrke, Knapp, and

Sirotnik (1992) acknowledged what they call an “array of definitions for curriculum” (p.

12

. r ,
ace-:33. gm? :2”:
‘ ! ' ‘ . ‘..’
tracetrnzam at t

A bread I “f“

tunes the teat:

IA'fi-V i

hang at ACilOF.)
a re negatazed 3.
r lJl.‘ ‘ ‘
“terrain: or ‘

‘fifi‘rn
,....,.antr and at:

3. i
FrIVh' '
. a“ .3mx‘ln a9-
i=1.“

 

52), and advised that attempts to understand curriculum require examinations o “intended
goals and objectives; breadth, depth, and organization of content and subject matter;
instructional strategies; learning activities; use of human and material resources; use of time
and space; grouping patterns; and assessment of learning” (p. 53). These are all necessary
for a definition of “affordance,” but not sufficient.

A broader View of affordances might be found in what Tierney and Rogers (1989)
termed the “social fabric” of the classroom. A group’s social fabric is comprised of social
rules and norms, which include audience and authority (in classrooms, whether these are
exclusively the teachers’ or shared among all classroom members), independence and
flexibility of strategy use (whether students can make meaning in creating their own texts,
and can monitor their own progress), and the nature of the demands of academic tasks.
Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group (1995) members might define social fabric as
consisting of actions and interactions, norms and expectations, and roles and relationships
that are negotiated among group members. Specific features that may be examined to gain
an understanding of the social fabric include (a) conditions including place, time,
participants, and artifacts; (b) particular activities, sequences and subactivities; (c) meanings
found in speech, writing, words, and other symbolic systems; and (d) norms,
expectations, roles, relationships, beliefs, and other sociocultural knowledge about sign
systems, activity, and the material world (Gee & Green, 1998). These elements encompass
and broaden the definition of curriculum as described above.

Hence, in this study, affordances are broadly and inclusively defined as what is
available to be encountered in any situation. In classrooms affordances include (a) teachers’
goals, objectives, and beliefs; (b) instructional content, organization, and strategies; (c)
learning tasks, material and semiotic resources, and assessments; (d) use of time, space,
and grouping patterns; and (c) all possible combinations of individual and interpersonal
activities, interactions, expectations, and social norms and relationships in the classroom.

In fact, one might argue that there is nothing to be found in classrooms that does not in

13

If: (grate; r
ire earning-.- a: .
3:53am mirerer
5:32.: {Brown et
\c'attzg 1U}Q_ LE
.33.“ d .. 1“ ‘m ..
4.5.“) e‘e-‘kr‘..c
creates rn cor-z:

if=f§3m€flL [has

(mam max
mane-:23 Lax-e ;
. .3 turntulur

3‘3 53.3311 on Of \\

rflu‘ir in Q‘F
““38 a
S‘ .
. ~,
"‘4'?”

some way potentially or actually afford or constrain student learning.

WW If afi‘ordances are defined as having the potential to
shape learning, and all classrooms are different in some way, then what is learned is
necessarily different in different classrooms; that is, learning is context dependent, or
situated (Brown et al, 1993; Brown, Collins, & Duguid, 1989; Collins, Brown, &
Newman, 1989; Lave & Wenger, 1991). Englert and Palincsar (1991) suggested that
literacy development must be understood in the context in which it occurs. In fact,
differences in context may account for differences in language acquisition and
development, thus moving us away from deficit-model explanations for learning
disabilities.

Contexts may not only differ between classrooms but may also differ within
classrooms. Lave and Wenger (1991) distinguished between a teaching curriculum and a
learning curriculum. A teaching curriculum involves the teacher’s intention, perspective,
and selection of what the learner should attend to. A learning curriculum, on the other
hand, is considered from the leamer’s viewpoint and is limited by learner intention and
what he or she selects, values, or notices in the environment to be learned. The leamer’s
activity is always situated in the learning curriculum. To the extent that there is overlap
between the two curricula, students may learn what the teacher intends to be learned. In our
terms, the teaching curriculum may contribute affordances for the learning curriculum, but
the learner always appropriates from the learning curriculum, which may or may not
include the affordances contributed by the teacher.

When literacy is seen as resulting from situated relationships, it becomes clear that the
range of situations or opportunities students have to engage in literate actions can limit or
expand students’ literacy learning. Therefore, in order to understand how students develop
literate actions from participation in schooling, we need to identify and describe the range
of opportunities available to students. Taking a close look at the range of opportunities

students have in inclusion classrooms, and how students construct their learning within that

14

7".

1‘15 “3.5 the i“

a. A . ,-

-
- OI “
-v'a‘ re..- I
v....~.\h 5!. ~A“~. a

Raf-=3. 8; chCo:
(“.3 (SOC-*3; r

:5: mar Fm" "

LasM- fi“

:L7,*.'§r';i ' "i
.- .uU-u.. p5\gne 5

23:31:10 the coat:

‘
A?“
5‘.

5“ lp I I {CT

1
9 3,0-
5. I ! ‘

- -LJ

>J.;l trends. but v

3w 1°“

m.“ w‘
..,3.p 1

ii:

 

range, was the intent of this study.

"nor-31‘. u -. r-._' -2 o r_o-- ' r ' -o ' ' Becauselearningis
context specific, and because special educators consider context when making placement
decisions regarding educational programming for students with learning disabilities, they
should attend to contextual details beyond whether or not a particular context is labeled
“inclusive.” Vygotsky considered context to be critical for students with special educational
needs (Vygotsky, 1993). Recognizing how disability can come to be socially constructed
(F orman & McCormick, 1995), Vygotsky distinguished between primary (organic) and
secondary (social) deficits, suggesting that atypical learners may be as much disabled by
their social interactional circumstances as they are by their organic deficits (Gindis, 1995).

Other theorists also recognized the consequences of acting in particular contexts.
Coupland & Nussbaum (1993) acknowledged the dynamic interaction between the
individual psyche and the external world in that meaning and identities “are shaped only in
relation to the contexts onto which they are projected and through the interpretive responses
of others” (p. l) for “not only do we constitute (make) and reconstitute (remake) our own
social worlds, but we are also ourselves made and remade by them in the process”
(Shotter, 1993, p. 11). Giddens (1990) distinguished between capability and
knowledgeability. Although a person could have acted otherwise (capability), he or she
might not have had the knowledge to do so; however, with a different process of
structuration (how the context came to be constructed as it was), the person might have
acted differently.

Two distinct camps within the special education community have staked out opposing
views regarding context for educational interventions. One side of the debate, well
represented by Kauffman (1993), takes the position that the important consideration in
reforming special education (which usually means combining special education and general
education in some way) is to maintain a focus on the unique learning needs of students with

disabilities, wherever they are placed. Those who advocate this position support the notion

15

.. - rim”
:ze tam-14“”

liar-if. & Lind

‘

5.: :mmnzs I;

STCCCS (Stoker. l

 
    
 

“ l“
DVD“ .
~§A¥i .it‘u‘...‘ vi
. .

 

 

of the continuum of services, that is, a range of possible educational placements, varying
from least to most restrictive, for students with disabilities. The other side of the debate,
equally well represented by Lipsky and Gartner (1996), insists that providing all students
with a very good general education, making general education look more like special
education, meets the educational needs of all students, abled and disabled alike. This group
advocates the placement of all students with disabilities in general education environments.
Since special education and regular education typically operate within different paradigms
(Meredith & Underwood, 1995), inclusionary models are likely to entail both affordances
and constraints for students with special needs. Suggested benefits of inclusion involve
elimination of labeling (Shinsky, 1993) and the consolidation of what is often a fragmented
program of remediation (Allington & Shake, 1986). Cautions include the neglect of unique
learning needs (Bryan, Bay, and Donahue, 1988) and the lack of necessary support
services (Stoler, 1992).

Warm; Although all classrooms can be characterized as
discourse communities, it should be apparent that living in particular classrooms leads to
differential ways of being teacher or student, and differential options in learning (Santa
Barbara Classroom Discourse Group, 1995).

In summary, if participation in different instructional contexts results in different
learning for their members, then schooling may be viewed as a process that expands or
limits students’ opportunities for learning (Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group,
1992). However, merely looking at curriculum (defined as content) will not tell us
everything about students’ learning in particular contexts. Because classrooms are
collectives or communities in which a group of people construct common knowledge,
language, and patterned ways of engaging with each other over time, and because living in
particular classrooms leads to particular ways of being a student or a teacher, to the
construction of particular types of knowledge, and to particular types of access to schooled

knowledge, we can gain information about how and why different instructional contexts

l6

1
22:2,; hen. ween eren
3:: we digest er $1.
mm mmzn r

T2,-Lyksliari

titre: in mind u
tetra“: their CUT

:azmz ard are“

a

...“~;-~ ~ Iv
. teen-5 path-nf

:-
5¥~fl

.. sat teachers. IE".

I!

an? dimension

rfifir 311' r
.~.....,

.‘ held "Ollt‘

Seminal reserve
mentions er en an
2: :Eassroom lnStIL'

r “4 pl?! Ill 5

“‘Ij 7?“
- I II

a...
@555. I? ‘ .
199.. 5N0.

 

mediate between elementary school students with mild disabilities and their literacy learning
when we discover and make visible the social and academic dimensions for participating
and learning within particular contexts (Tuyay, Jennings, & Dixon, 1995).

W5, Teachers bring particular epistemological beliefs and theories to bear
on their teaching practice (Pajares, 1992; Vaughn & Schumm, 1996). They have particular
objectives in mind when they plan curriculum and identify resources from which they draw
to construct their curriculum. They establish particular interactional patterns in the
classroom and expect students to conform to codes of classroom behavior and rules related
to learning particular content (Kachur & Prendergast, 1995; Nystrand & Gamoran, 1991).
For most teachers, these premises are formed early, remain highly durable, and acquire
emotional dimensions (Paj ares, 1992). Teachers in inclusion classrooms also operate from
personally held “orienting premises” (Vaughn & Schumm, 1996).

Seminal research conducted by Brophy and Good (1974) demonstrated that teacher
expectations exert an important influence on students’ achievement. Teacher expectations
and classroom instruction are based, consciously or unconsciously, on underlying
philosophical premises. Although teachers’ beliefs and theories impact students’
educational experiences (Beach, 1994; Brantlinger, 1996; Brownell & Pajares, 1999;
Pajares, 1992; Soodak, Podell, & Lehman, 1998; Stanovich & Jordan, 1998), information
about the theoretical orientations of the teacher(s) are not generally included in descriptions
of classrooms participating in research studies.

In this study, teachers’ theoretical orientation to instruction and learning was key to
their selection as participants in the study, as well as to the analysis of writing instruction
and students’ experiences in the classroom. Teachers holding two different and distinct
philosophies of teaching and learning were invited to participate in the study. The teaching
team in the first of the two research classrooms premised instructional practice on a
philosophy of the individual development of skills in reading and writing processes. The

teaching team in the second research classroom exhibited a strongly articulated philosophy

17

"'..'-¢--
33:5»!
, 1‘s“ ['1
1‘3,“ iVE-i ‘
U.
3335 one...

 

:;::a.li_v-based I
2:35 3f rrtterac: r
2.-:.' :t "‘J"
1133‘. Late & We
3:32 C Iassrmn
..*"‘..:Lt‘t (p 63
3‘.es or‘norms. ru

53263136. With a p

 

of literacy as the social accomplishment of a group (Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse
Group, 1992). In both classrooms clear evidence was found of the connection between
teachers’ “orienting premises” and instructional activities, and by extension, what was
available for students to learn.

Community, Affordances in classrooms also include forms of community and
culturally-based Discourses. People in classrooms share common knowledge and patterned
ways of interacting. The notion of sharing is consonant with classrooms being described as
communities: communities of practice, communities of learners, cultural communities, or
literacy communities (Brown et a1, 1993; Englert & Mariage, 1996; Gutierrez & Stone,
1997; Lave & Wenger, 1991; Rogoff, 1994; Wenger, 1998). In fact, members of the Santa
Barbara Classroom Discourse Group (1995) characterize all classrooms as being “a form of
community” (p. 63), forms which may be explicated and differentiated by identifying the
types of norms, rules, contents, scripts, relationships, interactions, and identities
associated with a particular community form.

Wenger (1998), for example, defined communities of practice as characterized by
mutual engagement (doing things together), joint enterprise (shared goals and objectives),
and shared repertoire (common artifacts, discourse, actions, history). However, a
community of practice is not necessarily homogeneous--tensions and conflicts may exist
within such communities, and these are also forms of participation. Winkelmann (1991),
sensitive to possible interpretations of communities as homogeneous entities, preferred the
term “collectivity” to “community,” arguing that “community” implies a monolithic
interpretation of the classroom, with the teacher’s beliefs and theories firmly at the center.
In her view, such a community has the potential to marginalize individuals who fail to
conform with the monolithic interpretation. Collectivity, on the other hand, begins with
diversity. The role of the teacher in a collectivity is to harness the energy of diversity in the
interests of the voiceless and disempowered. A collective has the potential to engender

genuine solidarity as members struggle from the bottom up to define themselves

18

r I
- - re ~ a '.;
382.1‘at31‘. 11.3.5.

39:31; 11'. srtte .2
V I

"i: .3315. as u ell a
eStittrortatl rapport:
4351111185.“?10‘ ”-

:eefiv ~
“'2 find leqm n n ,.

 

collectively. Difference contributes to group dynamism rather than resulting in marginality.

A number of researchers who invoke a “community of learners” metaphor (Englert,
Raphael, & Mariage, 1994; Gutierrez & Stone, 1997; Rogoff, 1994) view teaching and
learning as allowing for multiple forms of participation and requiring multiple forms of
scaffolding. Types of participation include a range of active roles in the learning process for
both more mature and less mature members. As fellow participants, all community
members can make significant contributions to the emerging understandings constructed by
the group in spite of having unequal knowledge about the topic under study, because all
knowledge is equally valued. Additionally, all members have opportunities to direct and
assist as well as to receive assistance. Even though there may be an asymmetry of roles,
these vary from one situation to another as various participants take the lead at various
times (Rogoff) in shifiing dyadic, small group, or large group arrangements, rather than a
single adult-in-charge-of-whole—group model. Multiple forms of assistance from teachers
and peers, as well as multiple opportunities for and forms of participation offer a range of
educational opportunities that has obvious advantages for students with learning
disabilities, who, in traditional special education classrooms, may invariably be seen as
needy and requiring of predominantly basic skill instruction. Thus, resources of both
individual students and the larger community are used as members coparticipate and jointly
construct new ways of knowing and doing (Gutierrez & Stone).

121mm Iflearning is differentially accomplished in particular contexts, we must
ask, What is being learned? Rather than learning content or skills, Gee (1992) suggested
that learning involves larger entities called “Discourses.” He defrned a Discourse as
involving

ways of talking, acting, interacting, valuing, and believing, as well as the spaces and

material “props” the group uses to cany out its social practices. Discourses integrate

words, acts, values, beliefs, attitudes, social identities, as well as gestures, glances,

body position, and clothes Discourses are always ways of displaying (through

words, actions, values, and beliefs) W12 in a particular social group or social
network. (p. 107)

19

--.‘e 3? 0f“3:'15

3“. 4:8“: ‘*1:r1!-

v-e'a‘”’:e SCCO

we

.=.r_.‘\ “15‘8". E1”
estrus?
teac' Urethe

1 ESTTEDU 38“”

LAIF

3...: miles S"
-.. NA‘ ‘

:qq’3F .V‘

x. . “(ace—i“ i

ere-puma? coir:

In addiL-cn

Jimmie t’ small

"‘
5151." I v
n\. "F
““e lo 3.43 :
-.. _. ' v-
-51“. g' "‘1 ‘rr
7.1.-Ayrli. rayi
3.9 ‘
i—Iu ‘
NA"! I’ ‘16“
t‘.‘ : h“
. 153-q $.15
-

Discourses define ways of speaking and acting, for the individual is not the inventor
of a Discourse, but “the meeting point of many, sometimes conflicting, socially and
historically defined discourses” (Gee, 1989, p. 3). A Discourse is a kind of identity kit,
made up of ways of saying, writing, doing, being, valuing, and believing. Discourses are
acquired within a larger community. For example, Primary Discourses are learned in the
home while Secondary Discourses are attached to institutions or groups that one might
encounter later. Gutierrez (1995) conceived of language learning as gaining competence in
a Discourse, rather than merely gaining reading and writing skills.

Gee ( 1992) firrther suggested that Discourses are acquired by enculturation into social
practices through an apprenticeship process. Through participation, children learn how to
be a club member, a party attender, or a student. Brown et al. (1993) noted that the concept
of apprenticeship is often applied to the development of an association with disciplinary
communities, such as mathematicians or historians. They, however, posit a type of
apprenticeship akin to Gee’s, which they call “thinking apprenticeships.” These include
learning the ways of knowing, cultural practices, discourse patterns, and belief systems of
disciplinary communities.

In addition to defining what is being learned, discourse also defines how it is learned.
Discourse (small d) defined as talk may also provide affordances for students in the
interactions in and purposes for students’ learning experiences (Burbules, 1993; Mariage,
1996). Cazden (1988) described how teachers’ discourse may offer students a scaffold, a
visible and audible support that can be gradually withdrawn as the novice takes over
responsibility for the task. Teachers’ talk may also offer reconceptualization opportunities,
helping students see phenomena in a new way. Students’ discourse, particularly with
peers, may be exploratory (Barnes, 1993 ), acting as a catalyst in enhancing cognitive
reorganization, and preparing students for the future, as they work together in teams, much
as adults do in committees.

Applebee’s (1996) notion of “traditions” and “conversations” is analogous to Gee’s

20

22:; sfteac‘rrrng :

.l.” — "g" Q‘af‘A V
.3210“; It..- L

\

.1; Hum“ ”an -” R
L‘- 41_L*.‘ML pd..ei .
v

,. - .
52“ “as“
.

-V. u.-

A second done.

 

 

(1992) Discourses (big D) and discourse (small d). Within a “tradition,” according to
Applebee, are “domains for conversation.” “Domains” are defined as “selections of topics
or issues out of a larger tradition, and as a set are overlapping and multiple rather than
taxonomic" (p. 37). “Conversations” then take place within “domains” and are “the primary
means of teaching and learning” (p. 37). “Conversations” can be many activities, but must
be essentially dialogic: “a pedagogy that supports students' entry into meaningfirl traditions
of conversation is of necessity dialogic" (p. 62). Thus in this study, “discourse in the
classroom” refers to both how things are done in a particular classroom (the tradition) and
the linguistic patterns that typify classroom instruction and interaction.

E . . .

A second domain of interest in this research is the participation of students with
disabilities in curricular activities. The notion of participation suggests a subject-world
relationship (Tucker, in Lave, 1996). Vygotsky addressed the subject-world relation by
suggesting, in his “general genetic law of cultural development,” that every function in the
child’s cultural development appears twice: first, on the social level, and, later, on the
individual level; first, hem/gen people (W), and then inside the child
W)” (p. 57). Rogoff (1995) also addressed this relationship when she
contrasted two prevailing conceptions of learning and development, transmission and
acquisition, with a third, participation. The transmission model of learning, according to
Rogoff, involves action on the part of the world as knowledge is transmitted from the
outside world to the brain. I suggest that this model might characterize direct instruction
methods of instruction. The amujsitjgn model of learning involves action on the part of the
individual as the brain seeks out knowledge. The discovery learning model might be
described in this way. Both are essentially one-sided models, in that either the world or the
individual is active, and that knowledge is some thing that can be possessed and
transferred. When learning is seen as the transmission or acquisition of an object, questions

about learning and development coalesce around issues of where information is stored and

21

275337326 0
Lassen or a :‘

5”,?”6. ‘9‘-

;frrjmrtj.‘ aL w
2:23.31 For Reg
3:22.332 in arran g
4"" furth er in
5’1. an enterpn s

373-396 are both

IQSCIEd IO {he 5

 

how it is retrieved and generalized.

Rogoff s (1995) third conception of learning and development, that of participation,
posited that both world and individual are active and interact with each other. As
individuals participate in sociocultural activities, their participation is transformed (Lave &
Wenger, 1991). To understand development, then, researchers need to describe the
activities in which people participate, how, and with whom, and how individuals move
from one type of participation to another. Consonant with the notion that knowledge is not
a transferrable object, Lave and Wenger suggested that the goal of participation is not the
acquisition of a skill but the attainment of full membership in a community.

Apprenticeship. Rogoff (1993) suggested that learning as participation involves
community activity and employed the metaphor of apprenticeship for describing this
activity. For Rogoff, the term “apprenticeship” emphasized agentive aspects of the leamer’s
activity in arranging one’s own learning opportunities. Lave (1996) took the notion of
agency firrther in defining learning as the pursuit of “identity-making life projects” (p.
157), an enterprise which only sometimes coincides with teaching and instruction. “Life
projects” are both activity and goal of members of communities of practice, intimately
connected to the social surround, since “crafting identities is a 599m process” (p. 157).
Thus, teaching is subsumed into the life projects of all students, and the result of
instruction depends on its role in students’ identity-making activities.

Other researchers also draw on the apprenticeship metaphor for talking about learning
and teaching. Rojewski and Schell (1994) used the apprenticeship metaphor to develop a
cognitive apprenticeship model of instruction for students with special needs. According to
their model, instruction involves content, methods, sequence, and sociology (their way of
talking about social interactions). These uses of the metaphor are helpful in prescribing
effective instructional practices for use in classrooms.

Focusing on learning situations occurring outside of formal schooling, Lave and

Wenger (1991) used the apprenticeship metaphor to describe how individuals learn, rather

22

Flu

5:2: prescribe he
2123111111115 of]
5:332: in a pra;

.4, -.,.

' r
iui. &5: n H r g
I

new. ~ ., a!
a... 7-" “III a £04;

«42311 or ff?"
at? 313:3 access l
in" ’53 ~ ‘ ,
‘“"‘ m:tere:

.yulU‘

":5 0f pram ce

.2,” ~_ ..
""Q‘mm beit.

x‘GDr—l‘ ~
' "“““l."1n\'ol'~

 

than to prescribe how children should learn. For them, apprenticeship is learning by being
in communities of practice (Lave, 1996). All learners, including children in school, must
participate in a practice if they are to learn it. Since individuals do not participate in activities
alone, such participation involves active involvement with others in culturally organized
activity with a goal for development of the less experienced participants (Gutierrez, 1995;
Rogoff, 1993, 1995). Further, learners learn by doing, with a view to becoming members
of the community. In participation, learners acquire knowledge and skills, but the telos is
becoming active participants in the cultural activities of the community, rather than the
acquisition or reproduction of knowledge. Thus, the important thing is access to practice,
rather than access to content in isolation from practice. In order to learn, newcomers must
not be sequestered, as they often are in resource rooms, from opportunities to absorb the
culture of practice and to participate in the manner of full participants. At first, access for
newcomers may be limited to peripheral ideas or forms of participation, but even limited
forms of participation, termed by Lave and Wenger (1991) as “legitimate peripheral
participation,” belong to the learning process. The advantage of participating even
peripherally involves opportunities to “develop a view of what the whole enterprise is
about, and what there is to be learned” (p. 93).

W In classrooms, students need to know how to manage
academic task structures for effective participation in classroom lessons and activities.
Erickson (1996) suggested that all academic tasks consist of two structural components:
social participation structure (SPTS) and subject matter task structure (SMTS). Subject
matter task structures involve task sequence, levels of difficulty, closed- or open-ended
knowledge framing, and skill required to complete the task. By definition, students with
learning disabilities have difficulty with subject matter. Social participation structures, on
the other hand, involve functional relationships such as “seeking help, giving help, taking
turns at talk in a classroom conversation, doing work individually, doing work collectively,

joking, and taking a break” (p. 96). While subject matter task structures are apparent in

23

-510") 50c;

. I
o- ’0' ”3““.
.\.,’3:\ he“ ‘

. {'v"
t «#115 C‘lp‘lut

rd-‘—

_ : ..2. -
age-21.3 6‘3““

.. ‘OD‘

.. __~ crassrC’C‘m:
4.3.3.1» I i ‘ i
-33.. 2.1317712 L

-e 4.757:- i '
‘_,_u‘J 1.38%”? y 3.

b

l

. f V
5'7 "t ’T‘ ‘ i
. _‘-~..Ir. u» O‘ru‘i‘r‘

. t

stezsel. integran r

ne’eachers in lhlS

 

classrooms, social participation structures are often invisible. Teachers often assume
students’ knowledge and skill in negotiating the social context, and they rarely teach
students explicit social skills needed for the accomplishment of academic tasks, particularly
those requiring peer interaction and/or collaboration.

Students’ social skills are often implicated in teachers’ decisions about referring a
student for evaluation for disability status. Thus, attending to social participation structures
within classrooms may reduce the appearance of disability. Erickson (1996) suggested that
through altering the social participation structure, teachers may “widen the range of ways in
which differing students can engage the same subject matter” (p. 99). For example,
polychronic organization of activity—more than one activity taking place at a time—may
make a student with a learning disability less visible. Polychronic organization of activity
includes allong students to do more than one thing at a time (e. g., talk while working),
having different students engage in different tasks at the same time (e.g., reading, math,
science), integrating subject areas, and promoting cooperative work. Understanding how
the teachers in this study addressed the social participation aspect of academic tasks is
critical to understanding the inclusive nature of each classroom.

Positioning, Apprenticeship relationships in the classroom may involve opportunities
for students to step into positions of power and authority. Traditionally, students with
learning disabilities are seen as needy, rather than as capable of occupying positions of
influence. However, it is possible for these students to step into leadership positions when
contexts allow social opportunities for repositionings associated with an “enabled” rather
than “disabled” learning status (Berry, 1998; Englert, Berry, & Dunsmore, 2001). Harré
and Langenhove (1999) define a position as:

a complex cluster of generic personal attributes, structured in various ways, which

impinges on the possibilities of interpersonal, intergroup and even intrapersonal action

through some assignment of such rights, duties, and obligations to an individual as are

sustained by the cluster. (p. 1)

Persons may be positioned by others or oneself; however, positioning others always

24

rim-2g may be 4.
3:: Even persons
:rezéed results 1
2:355 or intent
35:32:23: Such pt:
1:":3 HC\\E'\'C[ \
teachers are “113;

2:33:31 cor-segue

Ire quest: on u;
correlated \kah

1".- g, i .
.-.e..'tmg IOLIIY‘;
t a ‘

it" LCI‘Q'JUCI pp.

[QC-i p 499’

 

2"“29' '
"er% lll'x'Oi‘s't

 

entails a self positioning as well, and vice versa (Harré & Langenhove, 1999). In addition,
positioning may be intentional or may be tacit and unconsciously reflect the local moral
order. Even persons with good intentions may position themselves and others with
unintended results. Individuals vary in their mastery of positioning techniques, in their
willingness or intention to position or be positioned, and in their power to achieve
positioning. Such positionings are intimately connected with the construction of personal
identity. However, we will only understand outcomes such as these when we as
researchers are willing to delve deeply into classroom environments and seek evidence of
the social consequences of teachers’ instructional theories and practices. To do so

the question we must ask is not which interactional routines and strategies are

correlated with successful language acquisition. Rather, we must first ask what

meaning routines and strategies have in the local culture and how they enable learners

to construct positive identities and relations and manage competing agendas” (Willett,
1995,p.499)

WW Rogoff (1995) suggested that activity and
communication are key to participation. In the same vein, Wenger (1998) suggested that
participation involves action and connection, connoting both personal and social aspects.
To participate is to be involved in a process that engages individuals’ “bodies, minds,
emotions, and social relations” (p. 56). I have suggested that Discourses (big D) serve as
resources, or affordances, for learning in classrooms. Discourse (small d) is the medium
for learning. Discourse patterns and styles in classroom talk may be at once both
constitutive and indicative of the types of teaching and learning that occur in classrooms.
As constitutive, discourse allows the creation of knowledge, the appropriation of the ways-
of-speaking and ways-of-knowing congruent with that knowledge, and the granting of
social identities that together define the classroom context (Hicks, 1995; Michaels &
O’Connor, 1990). As indicator, classroom discursive practices can tell us about the “real”
learning that goes on in classrooms. For instance, inquiry learning may not occur in
classrooms where teachers and students communicate largely in ways reflective of direct

instruction, and where the teacher and the classroom texts are considered to hold the key to

25

galeige in the
fin. Malian. 1
Bridles 1 1C
3.2-3; debate. a
isergezt that 15.
mamergent tr
7:5,. a 'm gh let e7
55.7873 {Dudi ej.
litre-.2 rndrxtdua
11:57.3 are trusts
itereze chers an
Sources C omer
1:373 in a Slmct‘z
35:" Teachers
481018 of tee
Far “301519.

3 -
s. s... ’
.JJuOflll‘

.g inx'ol‘t'

a2}: tn which hurt
5:2:an this line

12:: oflaneuaue

mmrmcation. a»

 

knowledge in the form of the “right” answer, regardless of the curriculum materials used
(Hicks; Mehan, 1979).

Burbules (1993) described four types of dialogue used in teaching: conversation,
inquiry, debate, and instruction. Dialogues whose purposes are conversation and debate are
divergent, that is, open-ended and exploratory, while dialogues for inquiry and instruction
are convergent, indicating a focus on answering questions and coming to conclusions.
Thus, a high level of conversation and debate in a classroom may indicate a “community of
learners” (Dudley-Marling & Stires, 1992; Gutierrez & Stone, 1997; Rogoff, 1994)
wherein individuals have opportunities to speak and have a voice in their activities, where
students are trusted to make choices and expected to take responsibility for learning, and
where teachers and students collaborate with each other in sharing information and
resources. Conversely, a high level of inquiry and instruction may denote predetermined
activity in a structured curriculum that determines the skills and experiences students
receive. Teachers plan and teach for, rather than with, students, who are thrust in the
passive role of receiving the teacher’s instruction.

For Vygotsky (1943/1986) discourse was essential for the development of the mental
functioning involved in schooling. He theorized that tools such as discourse shape the
ways in which humans interact with the physical and social world (W ertsch, 1989).
Extending this line of thinking into interactional contexts, Bakhtin emphasized the dialogic
nature of language (W ertsch). He conceived of any utterance, that is, a unit of speech
communication, as a link in the chain of speech communication which both responds to
previous utterances and anticipates the responses of succeeding ones. Therefore, in looking
at how children construct their learning over time, linking communication in the moment
with prior communicative events can inform us about how learning takes place, about
opportunities to learn, and about whether and how children make use of those
opportunities.

For students with disabilities, the issue of participation is critical and has been much

26

Q. . I; F.‘
:1. =Stuve‘l‘L“

2:231? 11inch:

33:12:13: Cro

\~n--c—sm ‘. ’3'
i ‘l fl...
.-_-_...J..L. *‘bs.

I" 333814.. in :E'“ '31"

11:1: “221'. LD '
I

egg-ed beha‘n'or '
;:‘::Lpa.'rt mucus:
eaheerrected in
Relative of succe

‘9. >
1.3.1:"
.. -chl

ately and l

 

investigated. Early research examining the engagement of students with disabilities in
inclusion classrooms found that mainstreamed students were less involved in academic and
social exchanges than were their general education counterparts (Alves & Gottlieb, 1986),
and that students with learning difficulties in inclusion classrooms spent less time on task
and more time being distracted when compared with their general education classmates
(Buckland & Croll, 1987). These findings were later corroborated by McIntosh, Vaughn,
Schumm, Haager, and Lee (1993), who found that students with learning disabilities were
involved in fewer student-student interactions than general education students, and that
students with LD participated less in whole-group instruction. They speculated that low
participation rates might result from the passive learning styles of students with learning
disabilities and the limited instructional adaptations made by teachers.

Additional work by Cancelli, Friedman, Harris, & Yoshida (1993) found that type of
engaged behavior that was predictive of achievement differed according to type of
participant structure for students with learning disabilities. When students were involved in
teacher-directed instruction, reading silently and listening academically were highly
predictive of success. When students were involved in independent seatwork, talking
appropriately and looking academically were highly related to achievement. Clearly, when
community membership and opportunities for learning are defined, at least in part, by
degree of participation, it becomes a critical issue for students with learning disabilities who
are often less involved in classroom social interactions than are their general education
peers.

A final word on affordance and participation must address the possibility of overlap
between these two constructs. In a sense, the distinction between affordance and
participation is forced when applied to interactions and events. While the study, for
analytical purposes, sought to define affordances as what is available to be encountered and
participation as action and interaction, it can be strongly argued that because aspects of

participation are different in different classrooms, participation also affects what is available

27

an. .' rffi
:e be 99““.

 

A third {0
mmmtions 0
235: include 531
Green-“00d &

Rog-“ITS l'
:if'trduals “ha:
I; 131215116 pTI
correct. becau
:11: external to
re action m
x'r’tr'tg from
cfiriixidual “ha
22mm No one
mindindual J
EfPTaCtice from 1

“ml Of a mast

1., ,~ .._\
“'1‘21996.)d:1d r

 

to be encountered. Participation, thus, becomes another type of affordance.
1 . .

A third focus of this investigation involved a focus on student outcomes. In
examinations of effective teaching and classroom interactions, researchers and educators
must include student learning as one criterion for the evaluation of effective practice
(Greenwood & Maheady, 1997).

Rogoff s (1995) notion of appropriation involved individual change which resulted in
individuals “handl(ing) other situations in accord with development in previous situations”
(p. 132). She preferred the term “appropriation” to “transfer,” a more widely used
construct, because appropriation rejects the idea of taking some thing across a boundary
from external to internal. Rather, appropriation refers to “taking for one’s own use,” and
implies action in the world in a participatory sense, rather than action which takes
something from the world. Brown et a1. (1993) used the term “appropriation” in the sense
of individual “harvesting” from the seeds that have been planted by teachers and other
learners. No one can predict what will be “harvested” and in what ways; these differ for
each individual. For Lave and Wenger (1991), change involved moving toward the center
of practice from its periphery, not toward acquiring the skills of a master, but acquiring the
identity of a master, in other words, with a view to becoming full community members.
Lave (1996) did not use the term “appropriation,” but wrote similarly about the “taking up”
of classroom activities by learners into their “life projects.” The result of learning is not the
acquisition of some thing, but changes in actions and identity. All of these notions imply
action on the part of the learner that is agentive and purposeful, and reject notions that
teaching and instruction can “force” learning. The best that a teacher may do is skillfully
plan the fertile conditions that make it possible for learners to appropriate what is useful to
them (Brown et al.).

In summary, learning is accomplished socially. Hicks (1994) offered a useful

metaphor when she posited that the individual child’s discourse and learning is somewhat

28

1.111511 throu :11 It
re: and cultural c.

:e :enmunm'. stud

1112.1: are pets-17:
1;: trfemr us ato-
eerce classroom .-

1611510t15 describe

15:31:38 practices

 

 

of a “boundary phenomenon” in that the individual child neither appropriates cultural
discourses verbatim nor works within a social vacuum. Learning and development are
facilitated through interactions among learners and more knowledgeable members of the
social and cultural communities within and beyond the classroom. Through participation in
the community, students also learn how to be members of the community.

What are possible dimensions of social and academic activity found in classrooms that
might inform us about students’ differential participation and learning in inclusion and
resource classrooms? Particular to the classrooms involved in the study, the following five
dimensions describe variations in the construction of instructional contexts, roles, and
discourse practices.

I . . I i . . . If E . . .

Rogoff (1994, 1995) suggested that views of development and models of instruction
fall into three categories: transmission (adult-run instruction), acquisition (children-run
instruction), and participation. None of these models are, in her view, inherently good or
bad, but they do involve different relations of the learner to subject matter and to the
community. Transmission/acquisition models suggest that where information is stored and
how it is retrieved and generalized across situations are important issues. Participation
models view as important the kinds, nature, and purposes of activities, their current,
historical, and prospective relationships, and how people’s role in them transform.

[2 1 If C 11 1 .

In the area of learning disabilities, educators often believe that teaching is most
effective when it is tightly controlled in order to address specific individual deficits. To
control the content, the context must be reduced (Poplin, 1988). Learning is segmented in
parts which are studied out of context in order to reduce variability in the learning task.
This leaves the student predominantly passive.

In collaborative teaching and learning environments, however, the teacher does not

29

{136159131716 C31?
s'aiezrlrtg actiVl'
2.311.1- Chang-\l
3.5.3 the Child:
.1110. e tend and
2:: he adult and
@111 of the task 1
seer-dearly liiu
12.-“10111 helped 5
Siserrerttly stud:
meme tEngiert 6
-1111 A mather
namegrnal actr't
W Wood. “he.
thermal Opporti.

‘.-_'| 'v .
agar-L1:-

.165 is of p;

3")...”

Kamila”

-r-ng 10 aCCOI‘.

 

i3?”
.1 the teacher 1

‘1.
mafia

 

 

always assume expertise and authority about the topic under inquiry or control every aspect
of a learning activity. Rather, the adult’s stance is one of “contingent responsiveness”
(Wells & Chang-Wells, 1992, p. 97). In taking such a stance the teacher first listens to
discover the child’s topic and purpose, and then makes a contribution that will enable the
child to extend and develop it. As the child comes to a shared understanding of the task
with the adult, and through a process of negotiation and gradual, responsive transfer of
control of the task from the teacher to the student, she is able to solve the task
independently. Illustrating “contingent responsiveness,” teachers in one inclusion
classroom helped students develop the structure of a science report using students’ ideas.
Subsequently students wrote individual reports based on the cooperatively constructed
structure (Englert & Mariage, 1996). A second example illustrates shared expertise and
authority. A mathematics teacher established a norm that helping one’s peers to learn was
not a marginal activity, but a central element of students’ roles in that classroom (Y ackel,
Cobb, Wood, Wheatley, & Merkel, 1990). Thus, in collaborative environments, a range of
educational opportunities is possible for both individuals and groups. This range of
possibilities is of particular import to teachers in heterogeneous classrooms who are
attempting to accommodate students with special learning needs (Gutierrez & Stone, 1997).
ll . 1' . I If E . l I .

Conventional teaching of students with learning disabilities is typically unidirectional,
in that the teacher knows what is to be learned, delivers the knowledge, and expects the
student to learn it (Poplin, 1988). Not only is the direction of instruction one way, but the
teacher is the ultimate authority over what will be taught and learned. Reciprocal
relationships among classroom participants, on the other hand, assume a shared
responsibility for learning, with multiple forms of assistance available for learning.
Students have access to the various social roles, discourse practices, and forms of
knowledge necessary for full participation in learning events. Regular opportunities are

provided for participation in a variety of roles, situations, and activities. Gutierrez and

30

 

Social rnte

fame-works. th.
[O'Connor 8; .\
Lsr-s‘rucnon an
snap-ant frarr
iecédes uho e1:
teat'ersation (E
13333711. teacher
'vi‘léi’fifl 1979)
Ember casts 5:".

responses. u'hrl

 

Stone (1997) described a student with a learning disability, who, through the support of
reciprocal relationships experienced in a peer discussion group, developed his participation
in the group from nonverbal observer to expert discussion leader. In a classroom that
values distributed teaching and learning, occasions are provided for participants to take on
more complex roles in the performance of tasks as they develop new skills.
Wm

Social interactions are structured by discourse patterns, including participant
frameworks, that get constructed as members interact with one another and over time
(O’Connor & Michaels, 1996). The construct of participant frameworks describes the
construction and assumption of particular patterns of roles and responsibilities. A common
participant framework found in schools is the recitation format where the teacher who talks,
decides who else talks, asks the questions, evaluates the answers and clearly manages the
conversation (Edwards & Westgate, 1987). This discursive pattern is the ubiquitous I-R-E
pattern: teacher initiation of an exchange, student response, teacher evaluation of response
(Mehan, 1979). In an I-R-E pattern, the roles of teacher and student are unequal. The
teacher casts students in the role of learners, unknowing and unable to evaluate their own
responses, while the teacher is the authority and arbiter of what counts as knowledge. This
particular recitation format could be thought of as belonging to a type of classroom
interaction identified as “procedural engagement” (Nystrand & Gamoran, 1991, p. 259),
where students and teacher display typical school behavior but do not engage in depth with
subject matter.

Nystrand and Gamoran (1991) contrast “procedural engagement” with an alternate
recitation format which they call “substantive engagement.” This format is characterized by
open-ended questions, teacher uptake, and high level teacher evaluation which incorporates
students’ responses into the conversation so that the responses modify the conversation. In
other alternative participant frameworks which are more conversational, students may talk

to one another in a conversation-like dialogue (Goatley, 1995; McMahon & Raphael, 1997;

31

*;hael. 199'
and continue:
involves a 511.
art as leaders
cart-(emu on
mane tcprca
fiefinnans of
Stock & Roi
51:115.. Versus

As note:

isabrlztres 11.:

Raphael, 1994). Such dialogues may involve two or more participants, a developmental
and continuous sequence of ideas, an exploratory spirit, and an attitude of reciprocity that
involves a sharing of interest, respect, and concern (Burbules, 1993). Students may also
act as leaders in ways teachers often reserve for themselves by determining topics of
conversation and positioning themselves as more knowledgeable members or "experts" of
unique topical content (Mariage, 1996). Thus, classroom conversations establish
definitions of literacy and determine who has authority to interpret and decide meaning
(Stock & Robinson, 1990; Tierney & Rogers, 1989).

51°11 N Hlnllll [I .

As noted above, conventional approaches to teaching students with learning
disabilities have implemented models which emphasize individual treatments in private
settings, with teachers attending explicitly to each child’s unique learning and social needs
through the provision of appropriate individual learning materials and methods. An
example of such an individualized program is the Adaptive Learning Environments Model
(ALEM; Hallahan, Keller, McKinney, Lloyd, & Bryan, 1988; Laboratory for Student
Success, 2001). ALEM was designed to accommodate the instructional and special service
needs of all students, both disabled and nondisabled, in general education class settings.
The ALEM model includes two curricular components. First, each student is provided with
a highly structured prescriptive learning component designed to teach basic skills in
academic subject areas. Second, an exploratory component allows students to develop
social and personal skills through group work and creative tasks. Based on diagnostic tests
and each student’s individual rate of progress, teachers assign students to various levels of
both types of tasks.

In contrast, Englert (1992) described holistic approaches to classroom instruction
which view human learning as a complex whole that cannot be broken into its parts.
Holistic instructional models involve students in complex problem-solving experiences

with life-related goals that cross modalities and subject matter divisions. Such experiences

32

are connected \K'
:Eed indixidu;
121;:th approail
Leaning and lea
112' new experie
:1: proceeds fr:
readership bet‘.
hosiedge and

extreme read;

sateldme

Recently. f1
Linn a
"fun 10 Step a\:
if"? 569m to ir

233311 In order r.

r:’-.
Am"

310113 and mt

use

(I-

C{it"i‘ii‘imOnS tha‘

 

are connected with the leamer’s present knowledge and evolve out of interactions with
trusted individuals as well as out of individual interests and development. Features of
holistic approaches include instruction that focuses on constructivist characteristics of the
teaching and learning experience: the whole of the learned experience, the interaction of old
and new experience, people as active learners, the fusing of function and meaning, learning
that proceeds from whole to part and views errors as critical for learning, the trusting
relationship between teacher and student, and the importance of building on present
knowledge and interest. Holistic approaches to literacy instruction allow students to
experience reading and writing activities in all their complexity, with appropriate
scaffolding.

‘vr‘c- iw f 1.0.: f if. _ Lure-1.01.111

Speeial Leamrng Needs in Inelusiye Classreems

Recently, researchers concerned about students with special educational needs have
begun to step away from conducting investigations that focus on individual students and
have begun to include in their consideration the wider social context in which students
learn. In order to do so, these researchers have taken into account the various social
relations and interactional routines that help to shape academic tasks required of students
and their participation in them. In so doing, what has been made apparent are the
connections that exist between academic learning and the local classroom culture. Two
research programs have specifically examined social interactions and discourse related to
the literacy learning of students with learning disabilities in inclusion classrooms, and a
third has investigated the literacy learning of second language students. The three lines of
research I will briefly describe include the work of Englert and colleagues in developing the
idea of literacy apprenticeships, the work of members of the Santa Barbara Classroom
Discourse Group who see classroom cultures as constructed by the members involved, and
Gutierrez’s research examining the differential effects of context on students’ learning

experiences.

33

 

Engien 8';
Eagle“ R026
1.368.915”
Wagon clas:
classroom 15‘
Bmy&DW5
byexpenencec
on four essem!
responsive ins:
community Tt‘
continually e115
Eiglen & Mar;
and colleagues
pmer readin g
unit: resulted at.
all. Moreover.
teachers who he
Fading achiex'e

Teacher31

arm '

Awmmuh

l!
L :11.

 

dents. b

mm m.

 
   

.‘a- 4"
“an.“ CldeV

’hw.

WW

Englert et al.’s work in the area of integrated literacy instruction has been seminal
(Englert, Rozendal, Mariage, 1994; Englert, Raphael, Mariage, 1994; Englert & Mariage,
1996; Englert & Rozendal, 1996; Englert et al., 1993). A line of research begun in special
education classrooms as the Early Literacy Project (ELP) and continued in inclusion
classrooms as the Literacy Environments for Accelerated Progress (LEAP) project (Engl ert,
Berry, & Dunsmore, 1998), focused on effective literacy activities and their implementation
by experienced teachers whose curriculum planning and classroom instruction was based
on four essential conditions for classroom learning: (a) interpersonal discourse, (b)
responsive instruction, (c) holistic activities, and (d) the support of the learning
community. Teachers in the project shared a belief that all children, as active learners,
continually engage in reconstructing and interpreting their own experiences (Englert et al.;
Englert & Mariage; Englert, Raphael, & Mariage; Englert, Rozendal, & Mariage). Englert
and colleagues found that teachers’ daily use of literacy activities such as choral reading,
partner reading and writing, Sharing Chair, Morning News, jounral writing, and thematic
units resulted in accelerated progress for their students with learning disabilities (Englert et
al.). Moreover, they found that students who were in classrooms for multiple years with
teachers who had implemented these activities for multiple years made the most gains in
reading achievement.

Teachers in the projects implemented an apprenticeship model of learning and
instruction which was directed toward accelerating the reading and writing performance of
all students, but especially students with mild disabilities (e.g., learning disabilities,
emotional impairments, cognitive impairments) in literacy-rich inclusion contexts. In the
research classrooms, teachers encouraged students to be thinkers and involved students in
the whole problem-solving enterprise. Emphases were placed on apprenticing students into
the literacy discourses by modeling the language and tools of readers and writers, and by

creating collaborative sites that aligned students with each other and with the content of the

34

academic uork '
igniting. and a;
The distrtg
spatial educanw
90x6 of gas r:
apprenticeship r
leaning chaiicr‘.
greases from

“fie-,4 “ r
. ..;\ V'N‘fl
: .u‘, l k Vt‘d

B;

a.

 

T

 

academic work while simultaneously socializing students into particular ways of speaking,
thinking, and acting (the socio-mental practices) valued in the discourse community.

The distinguishing instructional feature of this body of work involved an intention that
special education students fully participate in the literate practices of the community for the
purpose of gaining cognitive access to the content of the curriculum. Consistent with
apprenticeship models of learning, the project teachers emphasized that students with
learning challenges should be given access to as well as be involved in complex literacy
processes from the beginning of the year, as well as the beginning of the process, while
being supported in the areas in which they needed assistance. By changing the nature of the
participation frameworks used in the classrooms, teachers sought to position all students as
active players, encouraging them to direct and manage their own learning.

For example, in one classroom, students collectively assisted a peer, Shay, in
composing text for a personal narrative (Engl ert & Manage, 1996). The teacher’s role was
to orchestrate the discourse by managing both the social participation of the students and
the academic content of the lesson (O’Connor & Michaels, 1993). In the following
excerpts, the teacher first questions Shay in order to clarify his response to J ames’s
question, then frames the task as a problem-solving activity.

T: OK, James, what was your question [for Shay] about the race?

James: Does he jump [the motorbike] over the ramps?

Shay: You have to stand on the pegs. That’s what you put your feet on.

T: On the bike?

Shay: Yes. That’s what you put your feet on. You got to jump over the

ramps...with your feet on them.

T: So how could we write that? If we just write “stand on the pegs,” would

our readers know what we mean? Ifwe read it in a week do you think we
will know what we mean? How can we write it in a complete sentence and a

complete thought? Barb?
Barb: He stands up on his bike.

T: You know what I think...When you say, “He stands up,” I picture him
standing on the ground. Should we make that more clear about where he
stands?

Charles: He stands on the pegs...
T: He stands on the pegs...

35

C harles

Ss
arnes.

T
A5 die tee.

 

 

Charles: On the bike.

T: Let’s see what we wrote so far. You know, I see a mistake I made a mistake
at the beginning. Does anyone see my mistake?...When we are starting to
write what do we need to do to the first word?

83: Put a capital!
James: You forgot to indent.
T: I am going to use this arrow to remind me to indent when I copy it over.

As the teacher skillfully guided the group’s thinking, she modeled question-asking and
sense-making as well as the conventions of writing. She thought aloud and modeled fix-it
strategies. She also positioned herself as a learner, emphasizing the distributed nature of
knowledge and expertise in the classroom as students corrected her. The nature of the
discourse as conversational (Burbules, 1993) rather than initiation-response—evaluation
(Mehan, 1979) afforded students opportunities to co-construct text, positioning them as
active participants rather than passive recipients in the construction of their own
knowledge. As apprentices in the literacy discourse of this classroom, each student was
able to participate in the whole enterprise (Lave & Wenger, 1991), performing parts of the
task according to the expertise each possessed.

This study of affordance and participation extended these examinations of what was
afforded by teachers’ skillful support and scaffolding for student learning by situating the
investigation in two classrooms with differentiated affordances. The resulting contrasts
provide additional evidence for the connection between affordances and participation.
W

In their multiple studies of student learning, researchers in the Santa Barbara
Classroom Discourse Group (see, for example, Lin, 1994; Putney et al., 2000; Tuyay,
Floriani, Yeager, Dixon, & Green, 1995; Tuyay, Jennings, & Dixon, 1995; Yeager,
Floriani, & Green, 1998) did not specifically target students with disabilities, although
many of their studies are located in diverse classrooms. These researchers posited that

classrooms are cultures in which members construct patterned ways of acting, interacting,

36

l
l

aliszon that he

perceixing and

 

czimre Their ii.
hi2 ideals CO—i
to. shape the lea
Bahara Classr;
protonplcal 5.;

lBioeme & E;

(I)

l
r
r

ante. 83.43am
Mining \less.
BTW

pe for 0

An early :

: **F r,
friend) m [ht

 

“fiE\e
)‘esterda‘.
qU‘eSil {in
on [he b.~
report r15

Anapfla

 

 

>, a] I
h JUL;-
t

 

perceiving, and interpreting everyday life. Thus, all learning is situated in a context and has
a history that helps researchers understand how a member functions and learns in the local
culture. Their fine-grained examinations of social interactions in classrooms illustrate how
individuals co-construct the cultures in which they live and learn, and how the cultures help
to shape the learning of the individual and the collective. For example, in one study (Santa
Barbara Classroom Discourse Group, 1995) the Island Project provided an example of
prototypical classroom interaction and also became for the class an intertextual link
(Bloome & Egan-Robertson, 1993 ), a “metaphor for understanding other academic tasks”
(Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group, p. 72). In one of my research classrooms,
Morning Message served similar purposes of both revealing practice and serving as
prototype for other learning tasks.

An early study (Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group, 1992) included analyses
of teachers’ talk and student actions that defined a range of appropriate actions for students
and showed how teachers and students constructed guidelines within which to work.
During the transition from an interview task to a discussion task, Susan, one of two
teachers in the class, told the students,

We have some questions that you want to talk about since you did such a good job

yesterday talking in your groups and Mrs. Mattern and I are only going to be the

question askers and we’re going to be the recorders. We’re going to put your answer
on the board. If there’s a discrepancy between what the different groups have to

report, then you will probably want to question each other. (p. 124)

An analysis of these comments showed how the teacher signalled that this was a class
where students had questions they wanted to talk about, students talked in groups, there
were two teachers, teachers asked questions and acted as recorders, there might be
discrepancies in group reports, and groups might question the interpretation of other
groups. These guidelines for student and teacher interactions served as affordances for
interactions around academic tasks.

This analysis of teacher talk was followed by a second analysis of student actions by

group along with teacher response. Students in one group identified five characters in the

37

 

 

 

 

reai'ited res;

irrerpretau 0:
mm: 270:.

.‘ a ' -
leathers a. >-
mteract an. r

SOCLEJ lHli‘TiC

A laters

explore both

 

required reading; however, this enumeration was immediately challenged by another group,
which argued that there were only two characters. A third group supported the first group’s
interpretation. As groups reported, the teachers invited responses from other groups, thus
inviting groups to take positions that aligned with or opposed other groups’ responses.
Teachers also asked groups to provide reasons for their responses. From these actions and
interaction, researchers were able to uncover and understand a model of literacy and of
social interaction that characterized learning in this classroom.

A later study (Putney et al., 2000) similarly drew on multiple sources of data to
explore both collective and individual development. Using transcripts of recorded teacher
talk and student-teacher dialogue as well as student-written text, researchers illustrated how
collective and individual actions were interdependent and mutually contingent. In the study,
J erod’s interactions with the teacher and his several written artifacts indicated how he was
able to construct his understanding of “point of view,” and how his text was related
historically to previous classroom lessons and discussions. My study sought to extend the
understanding of the co-construction of classroom cultures by further illuminating
connections between affordances and participation for individuals-within-the-collective in
inclusion classrooms.

In her study of process writing in general education classrooms, Gutierrez (1994)
found that patterns of social action, discourse, and activity were fixed in “scripts” which
defined the rules and rights of participation, whose knowledge was privileged, and the
amount and type of access to classroom practices. A teacher using a recitation script, for
example, controlled the discourse and interactions in the classroom, limiting students’
opportunities for interacting with, and thus participating in, the discourse practices they
were expected to learn. Recitation teachers tended to prefer one “correct” writing procedure
or answer. On the other hand, teachers using a responsive/collaborative script preferred a

more dynamic and interactive pattern of social interactions. Students of these teachers had

38

multiple opp-or
mm- In the
bemeen snide

In a later

classroom. ant

he beelnnlr‘."
Pflmanh [hi0

lineman-on.

{~31

tuOXV, n! 173.“
GED-ding ‘1 ho
”m We“ of;

Thoma
Claujja
nomas
‘Jstln
Claudia
50m, -
BlilV‘ h

ell-e
mm r950:

“Spin-ed con

Em

my.

 

multiple opportunities for engaging others in discourse and even shaping the official
activity. In these classrooms production of text was negotiated by and among students and
between students and teacher.

In a later study, Gutierrez and Stone (1997) examined how students in an inclusive
classroom, and particularly Billy, a student with learning disabilities, appropriated literacy
knowledge. They showed how Billy’s participation in Book Club changed over time. At
the beginning of the six-week cycle of instruction examined, Billy participated in his group
primarily through eye gaze, body position, and smiles. As he expanded his repertoire of
participation, he used humor to build on patterns established by group members. In the
following transcript segment taken about halfway through the study, group members are
deciding who should play what roles in a TV game show format they will use to represent
their view of a book they had read. Note Billy’s involvement in the conversation.

Thomas: Dustin will be Abraham Lincoln.

Claudia: Yeah, Abraham Lincoln.

Thomas: Or George Washington.

Dustin: I’m not dead.

Claudia: Clinton.

Thomas: Yeah, Clinton.

Billy: I’ll be- I’ll be Chelsea Clinton. Psych [a term that means he is not to be

taken seriously].

Billy’s humor serves as an acceptable means of entry into the dialogue, and as an

eventual resource for problem-solving. Finally, near the end of the six-week period, Billy

displayed confidence and an expert role in the group as he attempted to interpret the group’s

text.
Thomas: And you get the meaning to the Blubber, but this one I you don’t really get
the meaning.
Anna: This one I didn’t really get the meaning.
Billy: I do.

Dustin: Um it’s like there’s not really a meaning because she writes different things
in every chapter. Like different days.
Billy: There is a meaning. He keeps the dog.

Billy: The friendship, how they managed to get joint custody and then how they
managed to become friends again after they after one kept the dog. One

39

 

 

Cutie:
central pan
“communi:
minimized

IESOUICCS IC

Earlier invest;

 

didn’t want him anymore.

Gutierrez and Stone (1997) found that this movement from a peripheral to a more
central participatory role was possible in a classroom which was organized as a
“community of learners,” in other words, where the social organization of learning
minimized differences among classroom members and made it possible for each member’s
resources to contribute to the individual and group expertise, rather than tracking,
fragmenting, or differentiating instruction for students with unique learning needs. Thus,
affordances and participation are shaped and reshaped as community members interact.

All of these lines of research looked beyond the individual as unit of analysis to take
into consideration aspects of the context within which students work and teachers teach.
Taken together, this body of research focused on micro-aspects of classroom life, including
teacher—student discourse in the classroom, teacher-student and student-student
interactions, and teacher talk in a variety of educational contexts. This study extended these
earlier investigations by deliberately contrasting two educational environments in order to
make visible that which could be taken as definitive of effective inclusion classrooms.
Bissex (1996) noted that researchers can see only what is visible in a classroom;
consequently, different themes might be visible in different classrooms. Studying two sites
helps us see that

despite surface level similarities, educational contexts for literacy learning are strongly

differentiated in ways that prepare some students for full and active participation in the

economic, cultural, and educational life of mainstream society while other students are
prepared for more limited participation or silenced and marginalized. (Bloome &

Green, 1992, p. 50)

Like Mariage’s teacher (1996), the teachers in this study were highly effective in their
classrooms even though they held distinctly different theoretical orientations to teaching and
learning. Studying two models of inclusive environments helps to prevent us from
becoming comfortable with one effective model and problematizes notions of the delivery

of special education services to students with special educational needs.

This study does not propose that findings from either research site are generalizable to

40

all similar clas
classroom cui:
classrooms 11
classrooms in
educators. it i.
fare in genera
by exam
lands of
these an;
live in cl
construe
Such on

below the rr

that influence

 

all similar classrooms, but sought rather to understand how contrasting models of
classroom culture might play out in real lived experience in the messy day-to-day life of
classrooms. It is important to understand how contextual and interactional factors in
classrooms influence and are influenced by both teachers and students. For special
educators, it is important to understand how individual students with special learning needs
fare in general education contexts. Gutierrez (1994) noted that

by examining the contexts of classroom life, researchers have observed that particular

kinds of repertoires for action, interaction, and language are established in classrooms;

these analyses of classroom life have described the consequences for students who
live in classrooms where particular repertoires of language use and action are

constructed. (p. 338)

Such understandings may increase our awareness that inclusive instruction extends
beyond the modification of curriculum materials to include the dispositions and interactions
that influence instruction and classroom life. Exploring the whole environment, while
creating a potentially much messier investigation, provides significantly richer and more
complex ways of understanding student learning.

W

Framing this study is the assumption that social interactions engender learning and that
individual change must be viewed in context. Therefore, what is needed to understand the
literacy learning of students with learning disabilities in inclusive settings are studies which
look closely at not whether but how classroom affordances and individual participation
differs in classrooms where teachers hold different orienting premises. These examinations
must also take into account the different participant structures found in the classrooms.
They must determine with what and in what ways do students with learning disabilities,
students who are typically passive learners with respect to talk and interaction, engage
themselves within various participant structures and with what outcomes. Only through
such investigations will we as educators come to understand the full implications of the

inclusive educational practices called for by the IDEA and inclusion advocates.

This study addressed questions about writing instruction for students with learning

41

and other . :1
as a focus for
uriters can rr
and ant cul’a
literacy. and
leaning. ins:
Tuoda
N0 lex els (a
the We and
(“here social
community a
FOl’ 83C}
”'1de With
beliefs. andt

materials. in:

F01 Eacl
engagemem

COIiSQqU Elke

“Clarice to te.

Finally

learning, anc

lam—1mg fat;

Th

l0 promgte 4
along the d
“high i-

"
A Car...
liLgfi (1|

‘h _.
‘5 at;

and other mild disabilities in inclusion classrooms. Writing rather than reading was selected
as a focus for this study for several reasons. Research on writing instruction for emerging
writers can make use of artifacts that make visible writing skill and strategy competencies
and difficulties of the author as well as reflect teachers’ beliefs about teaching, learning,
literacy, and disability. Reading instruction may be less reflective of teachers’ beliefs about
learning, instruction, and disability if reading instruction is more standardized.

Two classroom contexts were selected in order to consider features of classrooms at
two levels: (a) the level of task and activity (where visible features of the classroom indicate
the type and range of affordances for learning), and (b) the level of talk and interaction
(where social interactions indicate extent of participation in the literacy activities of the
community and appropriation of literate practice).

For each classroom context I asked, “What learning opportunities were afforded for
students with disabilities in this classroom?” This led to examinations of teacher attitudes,
beliefs, and behaviors regarding disability and writing instruction, as well as curriculum
materials, instructional strategies, and other unique contextual features of the classrooms.

For each classroom I also asked, “What was the nature of students’ participation and
engagement in classroom activities and with teachers and students, and with what
consequences?” This led to consideration of individual student engagement in whole group,
small group, and individual activities and how these interactions positioned students
relative to teachers and peers.

Finally, for each classroom I asked, “What was appropriated by students for their
learning, and how was it appropriated?” This question focused on students and student
learning, rather than on instruction and led to examinations of oral and written texts.

This study was not designed to validate a list of effective teaching practices, but rather
to promote an understanding of how contexts and relationships come to be constructed
along the dimensions described above. This is important because, over time, the ways in

which literate practices are negotiated and validated affect what is accepted as appropriate

42

norms for in:
from situated
Students hate
unierstarto' r.

describe met

 

 

norms for interaction and interpretation in classrooms. When learning is seen as resulting
from situated relationships, it becomes clear that the range of situations or opportunities
students have to engage in can limit or expand students’ learning. Therefore, in order to
understand how students learn from participation in schooling, we need to identify and

describe the range of opportunities available to students.

43

lr. thiS h:
ethnographic:
is going on \'~
then u stem 5.
Ehiogaphc'
pa .cipanrs t
experiences .
address the '
ethnographi

pan? mlar ccl

 

I
2%
(l'
‘1
3
.
,r

 

CHAPTER 3
METHODS

Seeing past happening,
Hearing between words,
Touching heart stories.

In this haiku, Judith Gouwens (in Janesick, 2000) artfully described the work of the
ethnographer. Ethnographers spend a great deal of time familiarizing themselves with what
is going on with their informants, tendering interpretations based on their observations, and
then systematizing their interpretations in order to explain what is going on (Geertz, 1973).
Ethnographers look for meaning by attempting to enter into the perspective of the
participants (J anesick). Thus, ethnography is particularly well suited for examining the
experiences of children with disabilities in inclusion classrooms. Empirical methods may
address the “how much” and “to what extent” questions, but qualitative methods such as
ethnography seek to illuminate the “how” and the “why” individuals behave as they do in
particular contexts.

Designnflthefitudx

The study sought to investigate how affordances and patterns of interactions between
students and teachers in inclusion classrooms constructed their instructional environments.
Data included classroom observations, student records, writing measures, transcriptions
made from audiotaped interviews and videotaped classroom events, and samples of
students’ written expression. Working from the perspective of social anthropology (Miles
& Huberman, 1994), I focused on discursive and interactional patterns found in
classrooms, seeking to understand their development and structure. At issue was the nature
and delivery of inclusive instruction for students with learning disabilities in general
education classrooms. By looking at two qualitatively different classrooms, I sought to
show how attributes of effective instruction for the target population are exhibited in what

are in some ways, very dissimilar contexts.

44

 

Qua'rtat: 1
researcher act
clients and '.
mnedtate n9. .
indemnity .
about it h at \‘s

over time an .;

collection it

—_='—
--—- —
—

Ripe? l0 Cl;

 

 

Qualitative design characteristics (J anesick, 2000) of the study address focus, goal,
researcher activity, and findings. The study focused on relationships among and between
students and teachers in the local classroom culture by attending to the personal and
immediate nature of interpersonal interactions. The goal of the study involved
understanding particular social settings, rather than making predictions or generalizations
about what was seen. Researcher activity included contact and participation in the setting
over time and an similarly large amount of time spent in analysis, beginning with early data
collection. Findings entailed a narrative of what occurred in the two classrooms with
respect to classroom features and teacher and student interactions.

E'IESl' [MIME

The examination of social interactions was situated in an investigation of instruction
and participation of students with learning disabilities in writing lessons and other literacy
activities. I selected writing instruction as a focus of this research for four reasons. First,
writing results in an artifact that can make visible writing skill and strategy competencies
and difficulties of the author. Second, the entire instructional process, including feedback,
is more transparent. Third, in these classrooms, micro-aspects of writing instruction were
teacher-created, rather than district mandated, and potentially reflected teachers’ beliefs
about teaching, learning, literacy, and disability. With this focus, I was likely to see events
wherein teachers had opportunities to use a wide range of instructional responses to the
emergent and undeveloped performance levels of students with disabilities, and to make
consequential distinctions between disabled and nondisabled students, if they wished to do
so. Fourth, based on prior knowledge of the two classrooms and the teachers’ instructional
characteristics and preferences, I regarded writing instruction and related activities to be
representative samples of classroom practices that characterized teaching and learning in
these classrooms.

Three research questions guided the study. The first question sought to describe critical

components of the instructional environment: What learning opportunities were afforded

45

lorstuden '

students' age

 

nature of stu;
, |

and students

student lean.

appropriated

 

 

mmres (O
E‘» Ems; houg

selecting a si

for students with disabilities in this classroom? The second question sought to examine
students’ agentive actions, what and how they took from their environment: What was the
nature of students’ participation and engagement in classroom activities and with teachers
and students, and with what consequences? The third question focused on understanding
student learning: What was appropriated by students for their learning, and how was it
appropriated?

II . E l l . l E l E .

The primary unit of analysis in the study was the situation (Gee & Green, 1998),
dimensions of which included material, activity, semiotic, and sociocultural aspects.
Situations examined included whole group, small group, and individual participant
structures (O’Connor & Michael s, 1993) related to writing events. Most were single
events; however, one instructional sequence took place over a span of several days. By
selecting a situation as the unit of analysis, I was able to “capture developmental patterns in
real-life settings, where they are embedded in complex contexts” (Nicolopoulou & Cole,
1993,p.294)

In this study, I took an interpretive perspective consonant with social constructivist
thought. Theorists in this tradition caution researchers against believing they can set aside
their biases in order to attain an objective understanding of participants’ views and
motivations (Schwandt, 2000). Consequently, what follows is a personal account of my
interest in the research topic. My interest in effective inclusion contexts grew out of my
twelve years of public school teaching in special education. My undergraduate education
took place in the era of strong categorical differentiation and individual prescriptive
interventions. Dissatisfied with these approaches, I became interested during graduate
school in sociocultural theory and social constructivist approaches to the remediation of
learning difficulties. Also, because the 1997 amendments to the Individuals with
Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) (Boundy, 1998) emphasized the access of students with

disabilities to general education contexts and curricula, I wanted to be assured of the

46

 

eiicacy of :r

 

curate rese
teachers see:
and in state"
orientati on t.
nature of kn
retresentir‘g

there disa‘s.

 

instabilities d:
sith disabilit
community
Several .
E‘ieral large
for Accelera
mom \‘i
Olcmmng it
1% Us (E
ml E51 Alter

macro; *h

efficacy of inclusion models for the education of students with mild disabilities. As a
graduate research assistant, I became involved with several inclusion classrooms whose
teachers seemed to be highly effective in both their implementation of inclusive practices
and in student achievement. However, teachers in one of the classrooms seemed to have an
orientation to teaching dissonant with my own views on the social origins and distributed
nature of knowledge. In undertaking this study, I sought to understand how teachers
representing very different epistemological orientations could construct environments
where disability was not a basis for differentiation of instruction, that is, where learning
disabilities disappeared into the general diversity of the classroom, and yet where students
with disabilities were successfirl learners and valued members of the classroom
community.

Several qualifications help illuminate the focus of the study. First, this study follows
several larger studies, specifically, the Early Literacy Project and the Literacy Environments
for Accelerated Progress (LEAP) Project. Both of these previous projects assumed a social
constructivist perspective of teaching which emphasized meaningful instructional activities
occurring in a social community that uses dialogue and curriculum integration to scaffold
learning (Englert, Rozendal, & Mariage, 1994) and examined how such a perspective
might alter the social context of literacy learning for primary-grade special education
students. As a graduate student, I was involved with the LEAP project for several years
and developed an understanding and appreciation of both the theoretical basis and the
efficacy of the approaches used by project teachers for teaching students with a wide range
of performance levels.

Second, this study was a descriptive rather than an intervention study. At the outset I
made three researcher decisions to guide my observations and analysis of inclusive
contexts: (a) to study classrooms taught by exemplary teachers, (b) to select classrooms
that seemed to illustrate two distinctly different approaches to inclusion, and (c) to center

my attention on writing instruction.

47

The setting
variables that ill
thissection I de:
padcrpants
W

The study tc
served more tha:
Student bOd)’ dig
135° Hispanic, 5
of Students regal
filuczm’on proud
assessment PTOg
Fillers recElVE‘d

grade“ reC€1Ved

Was I0 have 66° -

 

I] S . l E . i

The setting and participants were carefully selected in order to address cross-site
variables that illumined my consideration of affordance, participation, and appropriation. In
this section I describe the two classroom settings, the teaching teams, and the student
participants.

1: . . E S .

The study took place in a mid-sized urban school district in the upper Midwest that
served more than 18,000 students in grades kindergarten-12 and adult education. The K-12
student body district-wide was approximately 46% Caucasian, 33% African American,
12% Hispanic, 5% Asian, and 1% American Indian. In the year prior to the study, 52.6%
of students received free or reduced lunches. Local concern about the quality of the
education provided by the district was based on low district performance in the state
assessment program. For example, in the previous year, only 53.2% of district fourth
graders received satisfactory scores on the state assessments for math and 40.6% of fourth
graders received satisfactory scores in reading. The school board goal for the entire district
was to have 66% of all tested students receive satisfactory scores in math and reading.

Two teams of collaborating teachers, consisting of one or two full-time general
education teacher(s) and one full-time special education teacher, agreed to participate in the
study. Team members included Angie Blackburn and Rhonda Grant at Watkins Elementary
School, and Darlene Weston, Monica Baez, and Bruce Thompson at Ellison Elementary
School (participants and schools have been provided with pseudonyms). All of the teachers
were considered to be effective, exemplary teachers based on self-reports regarding student
learning, reports of parent opinion, informal reports from other researchers, and research
findings related to the research projects cited above.

E . l E 5' 5 l .
Several considerations guided the selection of the two classrooms which were matched

except for one critical dimension. Both served primary level students general and special

48

education stud:
ultt-abilit}. n
of sudmt learr
full inclusion f
Both class
Room had a re
their lIlSUUctio
COmentrons F
unit “fill its e
local next-spar
Ethics-ed m
Fears gmmh
El"JOllI'nem Of

“'18 ICaQi;

education students, kindergarten through third or fourth grade, marking them as multi-age,
multi-ability, multi-grade classroom configurations accommodating a widely diverse range
of student learning characteristics. Both teaching teams were committed to the concept of
full inclusion for students with mild cognitive disabilities.

Both classrooms represented exemplary teaching. The teachers in the Ellison Team
Room had a reputation in the district for being innovative and effective. They had presented
their instructional practice at numerous local in-service meetings and seminars and at state
conventions. Pictures and descriptions of the classroom and its “Under the Sea” thematic
unit, with its elaborate ocean-related, student-constructed artifacts, had been featured in the
local newspaper. Additionally, according to the teachers, each year all of their students
achieved am one month grth per month of school, and some achieved up to two
years growth in a year. The teachers also related accounts of parents who requested
enrollment of their children in the Team Room.

The teachers in the inclusion classroom at Watkins also represented exemplary
teaching. Both qualitative and quantitative data from the Early Literacy and LEAP Projects
suggested that Angie, whose association with the projects covered some seven years, was
an exemplary teacher. Both standard and informal reading/writing assessment measures
suggested that her students were consistently among the highest gainers among all project
teachers (Englert, et al., 1993; Englert, Raphael, & Mariage, 1994). Additional evidence of
her exemplary standing came from her presentations at state conferences. Rhonda, Angie’s
teaching partner, had been associated with the LEAP Project only a short time, so she was
less experienced with the instructional principles and activities associated with the project;
however, both teachers held similar beliefs regarding the empowerment of all students in
the classroom. Similar to the Team Room at Ellison, parents requested enrollment in the
inclusion classroom for their children.

I had prior associations with both classrooms. My association with the Ellison

classroom was a one-year research assistantship involving pre- and post-testing all students

49

 

and obsening at

 

   
  
 

ll’at’nns corereg

pancipazron in c

on leaning and ‘
onenLattons to te
beguiling oi the
prospectus lot it

hag-her s h
Dinionari' of if.
he chief featur
Beliefs. as dent
rESQ-urces for re

tremew tram

Elisha they f‘
utterances pro
in these cl asst
berm for “di st,-
@031 u, h] Cl]
Giser,»an Otis 1

hhponan.
“‘31 50c] 3]} _\' 11
S:

we?" (Fairc

equkallgr

E {32*

and observing and videotaping in the classroom on two occasions. My research activities at
Watkins covered two years and included data collection, preparation of field notes, and
participation in collaborative teacher-researcher meetings. Consequently, I had knowledge
of the teachers and teaching methods in both classrooms prior to the study.

The one critical difference in the two classrooms regarded teachers’ beliefs and theories
on learning and instruction, on which the two teaching teams differed widely. The different
orientations to teaching and learning were striking in the teacher interviews conducted at the
beginning of the school year, and it was this initial interview that provided a framework or

prospectus for firrther observation and analysis.

 

- - .r The American Heritage
Dictionary of the English Language (1996) defines “prospectus” as “a document describing
the chief features of something, such as...an educational program.” Thus, the teachers’
beliefs, as derived from the initial interviews, served as material and culturally patterned
resources for teachers’ planning and implementation of classroom instruction. As such, the
interview transcripts described teacher’s views of their writing curriculum and the features
of what they felt comprised good writing instruction. However, at another level, the initial
interviews provided an orientation for my observations of writing instruction and activities
in these classrooms. The words “prospectus” and “prospect” come from the same Latin
term for “distant view”; thus, the beliefs provided an orientation, hypothesis, or standard
against which to evaluate what I saw in the classrooms. I could evaluate whether my
observations seem to match the prospectus or challenge it in some way.

Important for this study of affordance, participation, and appropriation was the notion
that socially meaningfirl actions have the potential to recreate or change basic patterns of
society (F airclough, 1989; Lemke, 1990). In both classrooms societal perceptions of ability
and disability were challenged, because, prominent in the teacher’s beliefs about disability
and education was the notion that, in their classrooms, disability categories

notwithstanding, there were no students with disabilities, only students. However, despite

50

 

simiar beliefs :5
nstruction for El
It: Team P
slilsoriented \
delearly specir‘
deemed “reads”
tiese teachers. it
and practice to :"

Gutierrez l 1

aftlusition oft}:

“NETS F 0: [hr
“”351 bi mom
iadiriduaj Study
lPOplin‘ 1988)
FlillhermmC
”dents. Wheth K.
Write mugs Ii
wilful}- [0 83c}:

ldurnflcafi On Of

materials and m
1‘;

 

I 3‘
1?.)

 

similar beliefs about disability, teachers had quite different convictions about effective
instruction for students with learning disabilities.

WW Teachers in the Team Room at Ellison held a
skills-oriented view of classroom instruction. Their instructional goals were stated in terms
of clearly specified competencies. Students accumulated discrete skills until they were
deemed “ready” to participate in more complex activities (Englert & Palincsar, 1991). For
these teachers, instruction involved the identification of components of skills, task analysis,
and practice to form new associations and habits.

Gutierrez (1995) typified this view of language development as primarily the
acquisition of the forms of linguistic knowledge and behaviors needed to display right
answers. For these teachers, the complex processes of language acquisition were best
taught by moving from part to whole (Au & Carroll, 1996). Failures to learn accrued to the
individual student and his or her innate ability to learn the required processes and skills
(Poplin, 1988).

Furthermore, the Team Room teachers held the view that effective instruction for all
students, whether or not they are identified as disabled, emphasized individual treatments in
private settings for the purpose of meeting individual learning needs. The teachers attended
explicitly to each child’s unique learning and social needs through the assessment and
identification of individual deficiencies and the provision of appropriate individual learning
materials and methods.

WWW Teachers in the
inclusion classroom at Watkins held orienting premises consonant with what some
researchers have called “communities of learners” (Gutierrez & Stone, 1997; Rogoff,
1994). The teachers believed that the most promising approach to teaching students with
mild disabilities involves an apprenticeship model of teaching and learning in a community
of learners. In such communities, literacy is learned through a transactional process in

which a child becomes a competent member of society by learning how to use the language

51

 

and dscourse or.
necessary cond“

are netted as ir.

 

it'll other merry
Gutierrez. 1995
scrnetimes coil;
and involve all I
Watkins te.-.‘
students for sue.
mm in st...
ilflll levels, and .
M1313“ Snider

mtElective con-re

 

 

HMS Could be a

me life

hula”; ‘
Although 0b

3’3“ Students. r

inch.

Wat snider

and discourse of a particular community. Consequently, participation in a community is a
necessary condition for learning to read and write. Within learning communities, students
are viewed as informants and experts, share power and decision-making, share literacy
with other members, and publish ideas and strategies (Englert, Raphael, & Mariage, 1994;
Gutierrez, 1995). In this classroom, instruction in writing involved the orchestration of
sometimes collaborative, sometimes individual, activity with an intent to teach processes
and involve all students in social and cognitive tasks.

Watkins teachers perceived the purpose of interpersonal transactions as empowering
students for success in school and in their future lives beyond schooling. Students were
immersed in shared activities with opportunities to participate as befitted their individual
skill levels, and teachers provided support within students’ zones of proximal development
so that all students could be successful. All students had opportunities in interpersonally
interactive contexts to receive support from both peers and teachers so that their learning
needs could be appropriately met. Hence, all students were viewed as “readers” and
“writers.” Students’ participation in literacy activities involving real audiences and purposes
was calculated to be empowering both in the present classroom and as preparation for
future life.

W

Although observations and videotapes captured activities involving all students, four
target students, two from each classroom, were selected to provide a closer look at how
individual students with learning disabilities participated in the academic and social events
and activities of the classrooms. Acting with teachers’ input, I selected veteran and novice
students with learning disabilities, matching students on sex, ethnicity, grade assigned,
year in the classroom, other services, socioeconomic status (as represented by free/reduced
meal status), and academic performance on the Slosson Oral Reading Test (SORT)
(Slosson, 1963) (see Table 1). A target student from each classroom was female, a veteran

in the classroom, and a third grader reading at the first grade level. The other target student

52

 

  
  
 
    
    

was male. a no
Table 1

laser “ardent.
h—

Name
School

lane

iEitsoni

r/\

 

Richard \‘
Ellison]

\
Marta r
m'éltlcins)
Dustin

Mam as,

 

was male, a novice, African American, and a second grader reading at a very low level.
Table 1

'm rhiInfrmin

 

 

 

 

 

Pre/post
Name Year in Other F/R SORT,
/School Sex Ethnicity Grade classroom services meals gain score
Lanie F Hispanic 3 3 Yes 1.2, 1.8
(Ellison) 0.6 gain
Richard M African- 2 2 Yes 0.4, 1.3
(Ellison) American 0.9 gain
Marta F Caucasian 3 3 Speech Yes 1.8, 2.4
(Watkins) llanguage 0.6 gain
Dustin M African- 2 1 Yes 0.2, 0.2
(Watkins) American 0.0 gain

 

The following descriptions of the two research sites describe school and classroom
context as well as teacher and student characteristics. Demographic data for these two
schools were drawn from their respective “School Success Cards” prepared by district
officials and released in March of the study year.

All students in the two classrooms who were identified as special education students
met state and local guidelines for learning disabilities (LD), emotionally impaired (El),
educable mentally impaired (EMI), or physical or other health impaired (POHI) placement
as determined by a district multidisciplinary evaluation team. Ancillary services received by
students in the two classrooms included speech and language, school social
work/counseling, occupational therapy, adaptive physical education, and occupational
therapy.

5' D '1] I B Ell. El 51 l

Ellison School, with grades 1 through 5, had 285 students enrolled at the end of the

school year prior to the study. Racial and ethnic composition of Ellison’s student body was

61% African-American, 22% Caucasian, 13% Hispanic, 4% Asian, and 1% Native

53

 

.tnerican Locate
free or reduced it
tierage Thirteer
SIUrh}'€3.I. 190° .
satsfacron' score
scores in math. a'
resgenixely The

Built of brie}.L
*n‘he shape of a '
1335' equipment st

toiled as a cafe:

 

Fairground flank

The majority
of when u era 1
£55311 AmEIlCa;

niece. a lead tea:

FifrClpal This Cl

American. Located in an economically depressed area, 71% of Ellison’s students were on
free or reduced federally firnded breakfast and lunch programs, higher than the district
average. Thirteen percent of Ellison’s enrollment was special education students. In the
study year, 19% of Ellison students who took the state assessment tests received
satisfactory scores in reading, 51% of students who were tested received satisfactory
scores in math, and 10.5% and 34% received proficient scores in science and writing,
respectively. The school board criterion score for all tests was 66%.

Built of brick and stucco 40 years ago, Ellison was a single-story structure constructed
in the shape of a “O” with 23 classrooms surrounding a small interior courtyard containing
play equipment suitable for pre—schoolers. Making maximum use of space, the gym
doubled as a cafeteria, and the library doubled as the media center. Outside, a large
playground flanked the school.

The majority of the school staff at Ellison was Caucasian and female. A large number
of teachers were new in their first or second year of teaching. Ellison’s principal was an
African American female; however, during the first semester she was on leave. In her
place, a lead teacher, a Caucasian female from another building, served as substitute
principal. This circumstance was a significant source of stress for teachers in the Team
Room, due to the substitute principal’s oft and clearly stated disagreement with the
instructional model and teaching practices used by teachers in the Team Room. They felt
. forced to be defensive about their program, even to the extent of appealing to the district
special education director for advice and support. This difficult situation did not alter
instruction in the Team Room, but the teachers cited their resulting stress level as a reason
for lower-than-expected student progress during the year.

W Darlene Weston and Monica Baez began their collaboration eight
years ago, and have taught as a team for five of those years. Bruce, who had had his own
kindergarten classroom the previous year, joined the team this year, but decided to return to

kindergarten teaching the following year, to be replaced by another teacher in the building.

54

 

The Tear
rich in Tear
classrooms it
iisitor enterir
enormous sp.
space. and ii.
large group n
centers. sex'e

.edl of th
Pulled out fo
rooted in 1
0T ll‘rtlll'idm:

The teac
in their class
to identify e7
encoding slc
’thle lhrm
the Esnerai 5

Tenet

Darlene 'm 2
“iii The he;

thCl

'UCle 3 ill

The Team Room was located in a large, shared classroom space. Bruce’s affiliation
with the Team Room staff added a third classroom to the existing two. The three
classrooms were adjacent and separated by movable walls, which were always open. A
visitor entering from one end of the classroom might have an initial impression of an
enormous space unusual for a schoolroom. Student desks were grouped at one end of the
space, and the other end contained tables used for project activity work and a space for
large group meetings and plays. The middle space accommodated study carrels for learning
centers, several computers, and the classroom library.

All of the students spent their day in this inclusion classroom, with students being
pulled out for speech, counseling, or similar ancillary services. Academic instruction was
provided in whole group formats, homogeneous small groups based on performance level,
or individually, depending on the subject and the purpose of the lesson.

The teachers were uniquely responsive to the learning and social needs of all students
in their classroom. At the beginning of the year, they spent extensive time testing students
to identify exact performance levels, particularly with respect to reading levels and
encoding skills related to phonics skills. All students’ learning needs were addressed
chiefly through individual learning centers and learning packets, rather than in and through
the general social milieu and interactions among students and teachers.

W Both Darlene and Monica had nine years’of teaching experience,
Darlene in general education and Monica in special education. Their co-teaching partnership
was five years old at the time of the study, and this year they extended their collaboration to
include a third teacher. Darlene, with two psychology degrees, was working on her
master’s in education. Her teaching experience included nine years of teaching, all in first
grade or this multi-age room. MoniCa, with a bachelor’s degree in special education (EMI)
was working on her master’s in learning disabilities. She had nine years of teaching 1
experience, all at Ellison, including four years in a pull-out basic special education

classroom and five years in the Team Room. Bruce, with a bachelor’s degree in

55

psychology ar.

Student T .2.

the Team RoozF

 

2). Fifteen rye:

Table 2

 

 

psychology and a master’s in human development had taught four years in the district.
Wows, At the beginning of the study year, 38 students were enrolled in
the Team Room, representing a range of ethnicities, disabilities, and grade levels (see Table

2). Fifieen were new students in this multi-age, multi-grade classroom.

 

 

 

Table 2
r hi i Elli n T R
Year in Fall SORT
Eth- F/R class- (GE)¢
Gender nicitya Grade Disabilityb lunchc ELLd room Gain scores
23M AA-16 1-3 LD-8 38 2 New- 16 Range: 0.0-3.0
15F C-6 EI-2 Vets-22 Mean:l.0
H - 7 POI-H - 1 Median: 0.4
38 total Other - 9 1.0 all-class gain
0.6 sped gain

 

aAA = African American, C = Caucasian, H = Hispanic, Other: Asian, Bi-racial

bLD = Learning Disability, E1 = Emotionally Impaired, POI-II = Physically and Other
Health Impaired

cFree/reduced lunch support

English language learner

eGrade equivalent

Site Ilfwg: The Inclusion Classroom at Watkins E1 ementm School

Watkins School, having an end-of-previous-year enrollment of 392 students, reflected
the population of many urban schools with a wide range of ethnic and economic diversity.
Students came from the surrounding neighborhood, and a large number were bussed in
from low-income neighborhoods in a nearby section of town. The student body comprised
40% Caucasian, 29% African-American, 22% Hispanic, and 8% Asian, and 1% Native
American students. Most of the school staff at Watkins, including the principal were
Caucasian females. Watkins reflected the district socioeconomic profile with 57% of its
students on free or reduced federally funded breakfast and lunch programs. Twelve percent

of Watkins’ enrollment was special education students. In the study year, 41.5% of
Watkins students who took the state assessment tests received satisfactory scores in

reading, and 33% received proficient scores in science, far below the school board criterion

56

score of 66° 0
81°lreceiyed :
Watkins S
with nicely lre:
professional 1‘;
realtors and lo.

desirable City f

 

Built ofli.

classrooms fo.J
l
|

Spacious libra.

 

Ede Cme'mh l
Separated by 21
“buses HOu,

they “BRET C103

 

one side of the
shall-ed table \a'l
area f0r large 2

Miller] C Ompu

score of 66%. However, 71% of tested students received satisfactory scores in math, and
81% received proficient scores in writing, well above the criterion score of 66%.

Watkins School was backed by a large playground and surrounded by attractive homes
with nicely kept lawns. Home owners included a mix of older people and young
professional families. Nestled on the far east of the city, it was widely recognized among
realtors and locals that the neighborhood surrounding Watkins was one of the more
desirable city neighborhoods in which to live.

Built of light-colored brick 34 years ago, the single-story building with its 20
classrooms formed the shape of a “U.” Though the gym doubled as a cafeteria, there was a
spacious library with brand-new library firmiture and a sprawling playground with
playground equipment purchased several years ago by the PTA.

W Angie Blackburn and Rhonda Grant established their inclusion
classroom two years ago when they decided to merge their classesua resource room
(kindergarten, first, and second grade) and a regular education classroom (second and third
grade combination). For the first year of partnership, their assigned classrooms were
separated by a long walk down two hallways, limiting use of the space for instructional
purposes. However, the next year they were pleased to acquire a classroom space similar to
Darlene and Monica’s, consisting of adjacent classrooms separated by a folding wall which
they never closed. They had arranged their room so that student desks were grouped on
one side of the double classroom. The other side of the classroom accommodated a kidney-
shaped table which was used for small group work, several project tables, an open carpeted
area for large group gatherings, and a computer lab. The computer lab, consisting of about
a dozen computers and several printers, sizeable for a school in this district, was fumished
by a current technology project sponsored by the university. This large space was
conducive to multiple configurations of student and teacher activity and interaction.
Unfortunately, this arrangement did not continue during the study year, due to other

classroom needs in the building, and, reflective of the marginal institutional support

57

the htnldir
year ofth:
Eton.

r
auc ton

afforded these teachers, their respective classrooms happened to be located as far apart in
the building as they could possibly be, even further apart than they were during the first
year of the partnership.

Rhonda’s room, the larger of the two because of her larger class load (the general
education second and third graders), was the de facto home room where the school day
began and ended. Each student was assigned a desk. Desks were grouped into
heterogeneous “tables” of four or five students. Prominent on the walls in Rhonda’s room
were both teacher-made and student-made instructional materials related to thematic units
and other cunicular emphases dealt with during the year.

Angie’s room was used for small group work during reading and math. Occasionally,
but not often, the entire class located there during Writing Workshop. Students sat at tables
in Angie’s room, rather than at individual desks. Kidney-shaped tables were used in both
rooms for teachers working with small groups. Angie’s room also had a sofa inviting
students to read individually or with a partner or to collaborate on a piece of writing.
Adjacent and connected to Angie’s room was a smaller room used for storage, occasional
craft activities, and the Literature Response center. Teachers’ desks in both rooms were
used mostly for storing teaching materials, grade books, lesson plan books, student notes,
and the like, as teachers rarely spent time there during the day.

All of Angie’s and Rhonda’s students spent most of their day in this inclusion
arrangement. Students were pulled out only for ancillary services such as speech,
occupational therapy, or social work consultation. Configurations for academic instruction
included whole group, small group and individual instruction. Some small groups were
heterogeneous and temporary; others tended to be longer-lasting and based on performance
level. Group membership was flexible in that Angie and Rhonda moved individual students
from group to group as students’ needs and performance levels changed.

Angie and Rhonda’s classroom was characterized by a high degree of discursive

interaction among and between teachers and students. All students participated in shared

58

Willi E. a

of reach.
educator
taught at

Rho:
teaching
Varied re

ect-cane

and Rho

als-

(J
H)
C)
H

 

writing activities that allowed for multiple levels of involvement. Unique learning needs
were provided for by matching student activity to appropriate levels of the shared activities.

W Angie, with a master’s degree in special education, had 27 years
of teaching experience: 19 years in special education resource rooms, 4 years in regular
education, plus additional experience in preschool and doing substitute teaching. She had
taught at Watkins Elementary School for 19 years.

Rhonda, with degrees in physical education and elementary education, had 16 years of
teaching experience in regular education elementary classrooms. She had experienced
varied teaching responsibilities throughout her professional career, including special
education assistant, Chapter I assistant, and general education classroom teacher. Angie
and Rhonda were highly appreciative of the benefits of the collaboration for themselves and
also for their students. As were Darlene, Monica, and Bruce at Ellison, Angie and Rhonda
were highly committed, concerned, and compassionate teachers.

Wm. At the beginning of the study year, 29 students were members of

this classroom, including a range of ethnicities and disabilities (see Table 3).

 

 

 

Table 3
hi 'n h kin In 1 ' n 1 room
Fall SORT
F/R Year in (GE)e
Gender Ethnicitya Grade Disabilityb lunchc ELLd classroom Gain scores
18M AA-8 1-4 LD-9 l9 4 New-15 Range: 0.2-
11F C-14 EI-3 Vets-14 11.5
H - 5 Mean: 2.9
29 Other - 2 Median: 1.9
0.7 all-class
gain
0.5 sped gain

 

aAA = African American, C = Caucasian, H = Hispanic, Other: Vietnamese, Hmong
bLD = Learning Disability, E1 = Emotionally Impaired

cFree/reduced lunch support

dEnglish language learner

eGrade equivalent

Fifteen students were new this year in this multi-age, multi-grade classroom. As noted

59

 

  
  
 

earlier studer.‘

non-working ‘.

Research .;

engagement all
Time and 111 my
mm.

T0 omit
5mm B‘pes
l‘oiyideo 3U:

Larger StudEn

Table 4

 

earlier, students in this class were from working middle class, working low-income and
non-working low-income homes.
Datafiollegtion

Research activities and data collection occurred over a nine-month period from
September to June. In order to examine the primary research questions that guided this
study, an over-time perspective was necessary (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). This prolonged
engagement allowed observations of writing instruction and activities at several points in
time and in multiple iterations.

5 E]: l E l C . l 5'

To provide a valid understanding of teaching and learning in these two classrooms,
several types of data were sought. Data sources included (a) observations and field notes,
(b) video/audiotapes and transcripts, (c) teacher and student artifacts, (d) semi-structured
teacher and student interviews, (e) student achievement measures, (f) teacher measures of

target student social characteristics, and (g) school record data (see Tables 4 and 5).

 

 

 

 

Table 4
se r e i
Question Data Sources

Question #1: What learning 1. General classroom observations (videotaped)
opportunities were afforded for 2. Observations of writing lessons (videotaped)
students with disabilities in this 3. Teacher interviews
classroom? 4. Student interviews
Question #2: What was the 1. General classroom observations (videotaped)
nature of students’ participation 2. Observations of writing activities (videotaped)
and engagement in classroom 3. Student interviews
activities and with teachers and 4. Teacher interviews
students, and with what 5. Teacher Temperament Questionnaire
consequences? 6. Writing samples other than tests
Question #3: What was 1. Observations of writing lessons (videotaped)
appropriated by students for 2. Tests: SORT, writing tests (Expert, Personal
their learning, and how was it Narrative)
appropriated? 3. Teacher interviews

4. Student interviews

5. Writing samples

 

6O

 

Ta‘oleS

lief. of D3

D:

K

Prerests

\—

Post~test5

School re

\
Teacher-r
questionr

 

\

Student i

\'
Teacher -
\

Writing;-

Classrm

Table 5

 

 

 

 

 

W
Data Classroom
Ellison Watkins
Pretests SORT, spelling, SORT, writing measures
writing measures
Post-tests SORT, writing measures SORT, writing measures
School record data Yes Yes
Teacher-completed Writing Strategy Interview, Writing Strategy Interview,
questionnaires Teacher Temperament Teacher Temperament
Questionnaire Questionnaire

 

Student interviews Writing Strategy Interview with Writing Strategy Interview with
target students, plus 2 other LD target students, plus 2 other LD
and 2 regular education students and 2 regular education students

 

 

Teacher interviews Initial, 2 interim, exit Initial, exit
Writing samples Theme journals, Theme writing, Writers Workshop notebooks,
group writing tests misc. center writing samples,

group writing tests, response
journals, Reading Notebooks,

 

theme notebooks
Classroom Initial three—day “sweeps” of all Initial three-day “sweeps” of all
videotapes classroom activities. classroom activities.
Targeted observations: Targeted observations:

3 large group writing, 3 literacy 3 Morning Message (2 teacher-
centers (reading, phonics, seat led, 1 student-led), 5 journal

 

work, computer, listening, writing, 3 Reading Centers, 2
activity, plus introduction to Reader Response, 9 Writing
board work), 1 journal, 1 shared Workshop, 1
reading handwriting/poetry

Total observation 4 full days 5 full days

time in each 2 half days (am) 3 half days (a.m.)

classroom C7l additional hours on 6 different

ays

 

ri 'on fT es ofData

In this section I describe in detail the various types of data which informed my research
questions.

Qbsemag'gn and field notes. The researcher/observer must decide the researcher role he
or she will use. One of the researcher roles described by Angrosino and Mays de Perez

(2000) was the observer-as-participant role. In this role, the researcher may interact

61

 

casually with parti.
l
endeayored to assu-
kindness that. inde. I
Once the resea I
of observation mu.~|
possible types of o I
l
Checklists Focusec:
the researcher can

013%“ def fined gr

Vile”iseaTCher to Ct I

 

casually with participants, but not cross the line into friendship. This was the relationship I
endeavored to assume, although I suspect that the teachers in the study will protest out of
kindness that, indeed, a friendship was established.

Once the researcher has identified a preferred role relative to study participants, the type
of observation must be decided upon. Angrosino and Mays de Pérez (2000) described
possible types of observation, including focused and selective, open ended or confined to
checklists. Focused observations often begin with interviews which provide information
the researcher can use to guide subsequent observations. Focused observations concentrate
on well-defmed group activity, such as classroom instruction. Selective observations allow
the researcher to concentrate on observing selected attributes of different types of activities
(e.g., How is instructing this lesson different from instructing that lesson?)

My observations combined focused and selective open-ended observations. I began
data collection by interviewing the teachers in each classroom. These interviews were
transcribed and searched for themes that shaped subsequent data collection and analysis.
Selected observations were made with particular attention to peer interactions. For instance,
if I saw what appeared to be peer interpersonal interaction around an academic task, I
focused my camera and recording equipment on that interaction.

Following the acquisition of informed consent and assent from students and their
parents, and the collection of pretest data and interviews, but prior to the identification of
target students, I conducted a three-day baseline observation of all classroom academic
activity, including writing instruction and writing activities. The purpose of this
observation was to obtain qualitative baseline data regarding general classroom
environment, writing instruction and practice, individual student behavior and actions, and
teacher-student interactions early in the process of co-constructing what counts as writing
knowledge and practice in that particular classroom. Additional observations were made
during the remainder of the year. The additional hours accumulated at Watkins were

focused on observing the persuasive writing sequence, which occurred over a period of

62

seyen day
Tne e

the classrr

he earner
look up a
Was impo
S'C‘l’le Stilt
Particular
my \Tdeo
OCCESlOn
ordinary}. .
bang \1d
mam
day “ Ill 1

HT; pTOVe]

seven days.

The effect of the presence of the camera in the classroom cannot be ignored. While in
the classroom, I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible with my video camera and lap top
computer. I hoped that students would become accustomed to the presence of this
equipment and ignore it if I left it there long enough. Sometimes students tended to ignore
the camera if I removed my physical presence from the camera location. In those cases, I
took up a location distant from the camera, as if paying it no attention at all. However, it
was impossible to eliminate from all observational activity the distraction of being filmed.
Some students tended to act out for the benefit of the camera. This was true for Richard
particularly, one of the target students. With some students I found that threatening to stop
my videotaping of their activity was enough to cause them to return to their task.
Occasionally I stopped videotaping when students were too distracted to continue with their
ordinary activity. Interestingly, the teachers were also highly aware of activity that was
being videotaped and would sometimes comment on what might have been caught on tape,
particularly if there was a problematic situation or they thought they were having a “bad
day.” In both classrooms, teachers used the presence of the camera as a threat to encourage
improvement in behavior, commenting that the camera had caught students’ bad behavior
and that the teachers might show the videotape to the student’s parent or care giver. (To my
knowledge, they never did.)

Field notes were recorded on a lap top computer during the classroom activity. This
was a much less obtrusive activity than videotaping, although students were intrigued by
the small computer and often asked what I was doing and whether there were “games” on
it. After I constructed a field notes template, it was easy to open a new document whenever
an activity changed. Field notes consisted of a running record of activity (see Figure 1).

Additional items observed included physical arrangement of the room (seating,
furniture, bulletin boards, etc), materials, students’ and teachers’ physical presence, target

students present or absent, and daily schedule. Categories specific to writing activities

63

Erarnple l Litera

thmel

 

‘ 11:0 ‘ Ss scant
| calls the
headpho
Jordan a

K
1124 EMS B bi
isounds

l ! Carrie Cl

l l purple c

l What She

1129 ‘55 at .\ll

' I They ch

: S0111c st'

group at

‘I People '

, aSSOClali

: 0T[Stale

. 0fthe rc
l i

Eli-'11 ,lez

Large
Tline l

,0“? y
1.513301
lls doin
‘DW L

 

Example 1: literacy Centers

 

Time

Description

 

1120

Ss scatter to various centers. The computer people meet at the carpet and Mr. T
calls the names and assigns computers. Listening center people have donned
headphones and are following directions. Mrs. B is meeting with 2 students:
Jordan and ? in a reading group.

 

1124

Ms. B begins with sound cards. They make the motions that accompany the
sounds.

 

Canie comes up to show me her paper. I ask her to read the sentence: Make five
purple cans. She needs help with the first word, but can read the rest. I ask her
what she is supposed to do next. She would rather ask about the camera.

 

1129

85 at MB’s reading table were given a choice of sand trays or journals next.
They choose journals. They are writing sounds and words in their journals.

 

 

 

Some students are sitting at desks doing board work. DW has a small, 2-student
group at her reading table. Mr. T is circulating, keeping an eye on the center
people. The students at the back of the room are continuing craft work
associated with units. Tracey is coloring the water around [state] on Jon’s map
of [state]. Several Ss are coloring designs on brown paper “ponchos” at the back
of the room, and several are putting glue and glitter on the various parts of their
construction paper “sombreros” which will later be assembled.

 

Example 2: Large Group Lesson (Octopus Report)

 

Time

Description

 

DW: Mr. T is holding some fish, or you may get a sea otter. You can get 5
stars on it by the end of the day. I won’t tell you why. We’ll watch to see who
is doing some good thinking.

DW: Look up here. These all belong to one family, all the things on here,
which we talked about on the tape this week. M, what do you think these are?
SM [inaudible]

 

915

DW: What is this all about?

M: Octopus.

T: Octopus. Yep.

M: Octopus is eating a shark.

T: Yeah, an octopus is eating a shark. That’s one thing. Thank you, M.
Somebody else. C, what else besides octopus are on here?

S: Squid.

T: Squid. Octopus. These are giant octopus. This was the blue-ringed octopus
that you don’t want to mess with. It’s poisonous.

 

916

 

DW: here’s a squid, and these things I only mention, this and this and this are
called cuttlefish, and they are in the family too.

Ss comment [inaudible]

T: Have a seat and raise your hand. That’s the underside, you can see the
suckers and the arms of that giant octopus. Now we are gonna talk about
(writes “octopus” on the board).

 

Pause for classroom management.

 

ML Examples of field notes.

64

 

 

included
participa.
student c
coherenc
tidying t;

\id.
“l

included the nature of the assignment, rules or guidelines for completing the assignment,
participant configurations (who worked with whom), and teacher-student or student-
student conversation. Following each day of observation, I examined field notes for
coherence and completeness, adding names of students, checking spelling, and generally
tidying up the format for later use.

WW Videotapes and their resulting transcripts were the primary
data source for the analyses. Field notes constituted a catalogue of each videotape, noting
participants, the nature of the activity, and as much of the talk as I could capture.

Some of the tapes, or sections of tapes, were selected for complete transcriptions.
Criteria for selection of videotape for transcription included type and representativeness of
activity, as well as criteria for matching with similar activity in both classrooms for the
purpose of making direct comparisons.

W I collected samples of target students’ writing across time
and across genres. This included writing activities designed specifically for the
development of writing skills, as well as other classroom writing and the group writing
tests given at the beginning and end of the study. From these artifacts I was able to
examine the complexity and quality of children’s writing, and how and whether children
appropriated elements of teachers’ instruction into their learning. Spelling, math writing,
phonics work sheets, and the like were not collected.

Teacher artifacts collected included lesson plan formats and, in the case of the Ellison
Team Room, a detailed plan, contained in a two-inch three-ring binder, describing their
total curriculum.

MW; Two formal interviews (see Appendices) were
audiotaped and transcribed. The initial interview was conducted just prior to the beginning
of data collection. This interview covered the following topics: (a) teaching background,
(b) the nature of the writing instruction used in the classroom, (c) beliefs about special

needs students, and (d) beliefs about inclusion. The final interview was conducted at the

65

end of the school j.

proaram this y ear

 

 

year. (c) new insid

   

progress of target; _

The llllITAl am
beliefs about teac‘
Gishese intem es.
amines and inte

ml“ P ctt.

(See AppendlCES

writing, Topics
editing Strategy.
Smdents, an 0?
“my“mgdr

tend T0 prOm p

pTOblEms Of 8}

yideoraped OI

dnl.“

C
it

Sport “filly
Skills in km.

Tead

l2
mg Skit]

end of the school year. Topics included (a) evaluation of the effectiveness of the writing
program this year, (b) successes, disappointments, and challenges experienced during the
year, (c) new insights developed during the year, and (d) focused discussion of the writing
progress of targeted students. The interviews were semi-structured, using a protocol that
also allowed for additional questions, clarifications, and extensions to move beyond the
protocol. The interviews were conducted in the classrooms after school and took from one
to two hours each.

The initial and exit interviews were critical to understanding teachers’ underlying
beliefs about teaching, learning, and disability. Themes which surfaced during the analysis
of these interviews served to guide subsequent observations and analyses of classroom
activities and interactions.

WWW One semi-structured student interview
(see Appendices) was given early in the study and transcribed for all target students. This
interview focused on student perceptions of strategies, actions, and competencies related to
writing. Topics included actions and strategies prior to and during writing activities, and
editing strategies. The interview took approximately 15 minutes. Interview data from
students, an often-used method for gauging motivation, have not been shown to be useful
with young children for understanding personal experiences, because self-report measures
tend to prompt generalized responses rather than focusing on actual events, resulting in
problems of specificity, reliability, and developmental appropriateness (Turner, 1995).
However, I found the data useful for corroboration of data from teacher reports and
videotaped observations.

MW Achievement measures included two genre-specific
(report writing and personal narrative) pre- and post-test writing measures to note student
skills in written composition. These large group tests were administered by the teachers to
the entire class at one time. Additionally, because writing skills are closely associated with

reading skills, a sight word test, the Slosson Oral Reading Test (SORT), was administered

66

indiyidually to al.

 

beginning and co
construct a class
coritert of their t
Writing skills of
Student. The fir,
[0 “Tune teac'
their use of se'
The Teacher T
APPEDGT ces i~
laflors- persi

mils. T1

individually to all students by the researcher to identify approximate reading levels at the
beginning and conclusion of the study. Test results were folded into the data used to
construct a class profile of literacy skills, against which target students were placed in the
context of their classroom environment, as well as for the evaluation of the development of
writing skills of target students over the course of the study.

W Teachers completed two reports of student behavior for each target
student. The first was a Writing Strategy Interview (see Appendices) which was intended
to capture teachers’ ratings of students’ efficiency and flexibility in strategic learning and
their use of self-monitoring strategies. The second was an adaptation of the short form of
the Teacher Temperament Questionnaire (Keogh, Pullis, & Cadwell, 1982) (see
Appendices), which asked teachers to rate students on the basis of three constellations of
factors: persistence/distractibility/activity, adaptability/approach-withdrawal/mood, and
reactivity. These data were used to develop understandings of target students’ behavior.

W School record data for all students was furnished by teachers and
included name, birth date, grade level placement, ethnicity, sex, years retained,
socioeconomic status, and, for students with identified disabilities, type of disability,
ancillary services, and test scores (both intelligence and achievement measures) (see
above). These data provided systematic participant descriptors allowing the reader to assess
generalizability of the results of the study and to strengthen external validity.

Identification of students by school record data only often masks important
characteristics of students with disabilities. However, this triangulated participant
description-~teacher evaluation of writing behavior and overall temperament, self-
assessment data from the Writing Strategy Interview, and school record data—enabled a
more detailed characterization of target students than is often provided in research reports.

2W

An analytical problem facing the observer of human activity is how to parse the

observations one makes, whether recorded by field notes or videotape. In making

67

obseryations. 1
what to attend
students uith r
these two clas
Since context
examined in t’
Artiles. & En

The MAS
for the close e
“Peas Of a ‘1
COndlUOns 01‘
describes a pa
refers ‘0 mea
SOClOCUlmra]
Other SOCTOCU
and Green no
Hort-mm f0,

backgmlm d1;

observations, the researcher can take in a stupendous amount of data, and the decision on
what to attend to is of critical importance. In this study, I wanted to understand how
students with disabilities dealt with the cognitive and social opportunities afforded them in
these two classrooms and also the nature of their membership in the social community.
Since context was of critical importance due to the two very different environments
examined in the study, I chose the individual-in-social as the unit of analysis (Trent,
Artiles, & Englert, 1998).

The MASS system developed by Gee and Green (1998) suggested useful categories
for the close examination of classroom activity. The MASS acronym evokes four connected
aspects of a “situation,” the key unit of analysis. The Material aspect describes the
conditions of the situation, including place, time, participants, artifacts. The Activity aspect
describes a particular activity and its sequences and subactivities. The Semiotic aspect
refers to meanings found in speech, writing, words, and other symbolic systems. The
Sociocultural aspect includes the norms, expectations, roles, relationships, beliefs, and
other sociocultural knowledge about sign systems, activity, and the material world. Gee
and Green note that these four aspects are inextricably connected and cannot be separated.
However, for the purposes of analysis, a researcher may foreground one aspect while
backgrounding others.

WW

Analysis procedures varied depending upon the phase of the analysis (e. g., initial,
middle, end), the level of analysis (e. g., patterns or themes in field notes vs. microanalysis
of transcript data), the nature of the data source (e. g., interview, artifacts, transcripts), and
the particular research question being foregrounded (teacher beliefs, teacher-student
interactions).

Analysisgflquanfitafiyejm Mean SORT scores were aggregated for the classroom as
a whole, as well as partialled out according to disabled/nondisabled. These data were used

to interpret other data sources (i.e., formal and informal assessment measures) and to give

68

insight into u
records. teacl
Suategy Inter
characteri sti c
teacher - and 1

interacti ons r

mggGSTEd pa
Phase 1 E
mTEn-Ieus f0:

mattress am

insight into what students brought to their writing experiences. Information from school
records, teacher measures, and student self-reports of their learning characteristics (Writing
Strategy Interview) were used to construct descriptions of student competencies and
characteristics. These data were also used to discover patterns and characteristics of
teacher- and student-behavior that were potentially important for understanding the social
interactions that occurred in the two classrooms.

MW Analysis of qualitative data was ongoing during data
collection and continued after completion of the field work. Patterned, with modifications,
after a study investigating the connections between literacy and play (Rowe, 1998), it
occurred in three phases.

Phase I began during the data collection process and involved in-process initial coding
of field note data to identify episodes of writing instruction and writing activity. Results
suggested particular foci for future observations.

Phase 1 also included transcription and close examination of the initial teacher
interviews for themes that may characterize writing instnrction and classroom social
structures and interactions. To do so, a word count was made of possibly important or
recurring words to obtain a sense of what teachers talked about. For example, words such
as “community” or “individual” were counted. Word counts do not take context into
consideration but are usefirl for identifying important constructs and to provide data for
comparisons across groups (Ryan & Bernard, 2000). Results of the word count indicated
several themes that bore upon subsequent observations and ongoing analyses of classroom
interactions.

Phase 2 also began during data collection and involved rereading of field notes to
identify comparison instructional events in each classrooms. These were selected by
participant structure: whole group, small group, individual. The selected field notes were
transcribed. Subsequent observations focused on target students working within the

identified participant structures.

69

   
   
 

Phase3 (lat;
For test data int
general or sped.
scored by a grad
measures on pre‘l
that time. and or
holistic scores \i
genre-specific u
conventions $0
and editing. an
during vyritin g

Tran scri pt
and the con set
Were discursit
teacher discor
Wer e S€parate
li'polog' of ti

make Word c

Phase 3 data analysis took place after data collection was complete and varied by data.
For test data, individual and group mean SORT-R scores were analyzed according to class,
general or special education, and number of years in the classroom. Writing measures were
scored by a graduate student with whom I had worked in a group to score similar writing
measures on previous occasions. Satisfactory interrater reliability had been established at
that time, and not reestablished for this study. Writing measure outcomes reported included
holistic scores which reflected overall quality of the piece; trait scores which reported
genre-specific traits; voice scores which reflected evidence of personal affect; writing
conventions scores which showed use of spelling strategies, capitalization, punctuation,
and editing; and word counts. Transcripts were searched for types of student engagement
during writing activities.

Transcripts were read and reread to examine interactions related to the writing event,
and the consequences of those interactions. These rereadings focused on how participants
were discursively positioned in the activity by one another’s talk. In order to evaluate
teacher discourse, teacher utterances were extracted from the selected transcripts. Questions
were separated from statements. All utterances were sorted, counted, and arranged in a
typology of teacher talk. Capabilities of a computer word processing program were used to
make word counts. Total counts of all teacher and student words were obtained. Word
counts were reported as percentages of talk. In addition to word counts, teacher utterances
were sorted into questions and statements and further coded as to type of question or type
of statement.

In order to evaluate student behavior, I first coded events by participant structure
(whole group, small group, individual work) and then coded behavior within the
participant structure to identify types of behaviors for target students involved in these
structures. Two broad categories of behavior emerged from the initial coding: engaged or
disengaged. Further coding refined these categories into several additional categories. Overt

behavior denoted visible activity requiring low inference interpretation, such as raising

7O

 

 

one’s hand or s,”

 

thinking or deci .
I
observer. such a

Self-initiated an.

 

Whether the stti.i

a

mgagement. Th

 

initiatedother-in
Further e\ar

initiated, men 0

(“W-“saga beh,

Table 6)

Thk6

Wes fTask 1

State 0
engagem

Oven self-inn

l

OVER Other-i;

Coven SElfJ; r

Sengased

77/

/

i’: 1-

,s

\thr

one’s hand or speaking when called upon. Covert behavior denoted activity, such as
thinking or deciding, that demanded high inference interpretation on the part of the
observer, such as, for example, gaze directed at the teacher during a teacher-led lesson.
Self-initiated and other-initiated refer to the location of the prompt initiating the behavior,
whether the student self-prompted or whether the teacher, or another student, prompted the
engagement. Thus, there were eight possible combinations of overt/covert, self-
initiated/other-initiated engagement/disengagement.

Further examination of transcripts reveal ed that five of these possibilities--overt self-
initiated, overt other-initiated, covert self-initiated, covert other-initiated, and all types of
disengaged behaviornwere the most useful for describing student task engagement (see
Table 6).

Table 6

n em nt
State of
engagement

Overt self-initiated Student actively engaged in task activity without teacher or other
reminder or prompt.

 

Example

 

 

Overt other-initiated Teacher calls on student directly. Student responds overtly.

 

Covert self-initiated Student oriented toward lesson activity without prompting, as in
watching.

 

Covert other-initiated Student’s attention has wandered and teacher reminds student to
attend to lesson. Student resumes watching.

 

Disengaged Student may be overtly disengaged (talking to another student,
playing with a toy) or covertly disengaged (looking around the
room rather than attending to the task).

 

EstablishmenLQLCmfidm

Lincoln and Guba (1985) have suggested a number of data-collection and analysis
techniques to establish confidence in the credibility of qualitative studies. Among those are
several which apply to this study: (a) prolonged engagement (nine months), (b)
triangulation of sources (e. g., teachers, students, researcher, writing samples), and (c)

triangulation of methods (e.g., videotapes, interviews, test measures).

7]

sizes, I
lloni.
incluc
there
educe

Ti‘l'jT:
I
w-

in th
con]
hEp!
Hatj
33“;

I99

CHAPTER 4
RESULTS #1 : THE ELLISON SCHOOL TEAM ROOM

To begin the close examination of writing instruction and activities at the two research
sites, I begin with the Team Room at Ellison Elementary School. Here Darlene Weston and
Monica Baez had taught together for many years, recently expanding their collaboration to
include a third teacher, who this year was Bruce Thompson. At any point during the year
there were about 38 students in the triple classroom, 11 of which were identified as special
education students. Six of these were identified as students with learning disabilities.

I 5 I . I . l E . l I

In the fall of the year, I, with Darlene’s and Monica’s assistance, selected several
students on which to focus classroom observations. Lanie and Richard were students with
learning disabilities who are referenced throughout the chapter to help identify and interpret
possible connections between curriculum and students’ experiences of the curriculum.

W Lanie was a Hispanic female third grader in her third year
in the Team Room. With her dark hair and warm, shy smile, Lanie seemed very
comfortable in this classroom. With what I observed to be well-developed work habits that
kept her on task despite the noise and activity surrounding her, she easily and responsibly
navigated the variety of contexts and assignments that she met in the classroom daily and
always seemed to know what to do in terms of task participation structure (Erickson,
1996). Darlene and Monica evaluated her as having low levels of distractibility,
withdrawal, and reactivity to adverse situations on a teacher-report measure of student
temperament (Keogh, Pullis, & Cadwell, 1982). They also reported that Lanie knew what
to do when writing, that she used organizational sheets to plan her writing, that she could
listen to her own text for sense-making when a teacher read it to her, and that she took her
work home and received help from her mother. Lanie described for me, during a fall

interview about writing, the type of support for her academic work she received from

72

home She
and shell
3 great jot

lhef
fourth gra
end of the
mamgm
absences
PYOg-‘ams
Successfu
t331ahlish
iOOliEd at
”moms~ 1
Indeed‘ fl
33%th I
“”0” ed i

home. She said that her mother “keeps a drawer of me and my sister’s of classroom stuff,
and she’ll save our work. And that’s, when we want to see how much work we did, what
a great job we did, we just go and look in it.”

The following year Lanie was scheduled to leave the Team Room to join a regular
fourth grade class, because there was no “team room” for upper elementary students. At the
end of the study year, this imminent move was on her mind. She referred to it occasionally
in a regretful manner, and Darlene and Monica felt that it was a factor in her frequent
absences. Darlene and Monica also regretted that Lanie would no longer have access to
programs of the type of instruction they had worked so hard to develop and felt were
successful with special education and other at-risk students. One of their goals was to help
establish a similar classroom in their school at the upper elementary level, and, indeed, it
looked at the beginning of the year as if this might come to pass. However, for a number of
reasons, that project failed, which was a great disappointment for Darlene and Monica.
Indeed, for the inclusion teachers at both Ellison and Watkins, a difficult dilemma was
attached to the realization that after their students leave their classroom, they will likely be
enrolled in more traditional classroom configurations without the benefit of a strong
inclusion program.

Lanie’s SORT-R (Slosson, 1963) grade equivalent score showed a gain of 0.6, from
1.2 to 1.8, well below her grade placement of 3.9 at the end of the school year and below
the average gain for the whole class, which was 1.0 grade levels. Her two-year gain score
over the past two years was 1.3 grade levels (scores for her first year in the classroom were
unavailable).

WW Richard was an African American male second grader
beginning his second year in the Team Room at the onset of the study. Tall and slender, he
also navigated the varied daily activities with knowledgeable confidence. On the teacher-
report measure for temperament, Darlene and Monica noted tendencies toward distractibility

and unadaptability with high reactivity to adverse situations. Observed evidence to

73

 

combo
the area

Horsey:

corroborate the teacher’s report of distractibility included being distracted by the camera and
the area microphone, at times making it difficult for me to videotape his activity and talk.
However, when engaged in computer activities or in the listening and phonics centers,
where there was less possibility for interpersonal interaction, he was observed to attend
closely to the task. Regarding his writing behavior, teachers reported that last year he had
seldom completed a writing assignment, and that most papers had ended up in the
wastebasket. This year, however, he seemed to have acquired a more developed sense of
how to write, although he was less independent than Lanie at writing conventional text. He
regularly completed writing assignments both with and without teacher assistance, although
his writing style was very patterned, and he seemed more interested in getting done than he
was in producing what Team Room teachers referred to as “quality” work.

Richard’s grade equivalent scores on the SORT—R test for the school year showed a
gain of an entire year, from 0.4 to 1.3. His two-year gain was 1.2, showing his progress
for the previous year to be relatively low, with an increase from 0.1 to 0.3 grade level.
W

In Chapters Four and Five, I focus my attention on three areas of interest and activity:
(a) the unique affordances found in each classroom that support learning to write, (b) the
nature of students’ participation in instructional activities associated with learning to write,
and (0) what students come to appropriate from their classroom experiences for their own
writing. In Chapter Six, I compare and contrast findings from the two classrooms,
identifying themes related specifically to affordance, participation, and appropriation and
generally to effective instruction in inclusion classrooms.

In this chapter I examine writing instruction and related activities surrounding two
writing activities in the Team Room at Ellison School: “board work”and “process writing.”
Board work and process writing were selected to represent writing instruction in the Team
Room for three reasons. First, these two activities constituted most of the writing done in

the classroom. There were other opportunities for writing, as in the phonics center and

74

joumal nriting.

 

Second. board \'~
of students in th;
orientations to \\

The first th:
Team Room Tl‘
mung instructi
examinati on oft
instnrctional and

In the fourr}e
Classroom relatix
engilgement and
Minty lalso int

and Snident Writ”

 

appropriated fmn

legerher‘ the exanl

journal writing; however, the chief writing events were board work and process writing.
Second, board work and process writing were representative of the types of text required
of students in the Team Room. Third, these two types of writing illustrated the teachers’
orientations to writing and writing instruction and their general epistemological beliefs.

The first three sections of the chapter deal with affordances available in the Ellison
Team Room. The first section considers the Ellison teachers’ theories and beliefs about
writing instruction and literacy in general. The second and third sections provide a close
examination of board work and process writing lessons by looking at conditions,
instructional and learning activities, learning tasks, and material and semiotic resources.

In the fourth section of the chapter I discuss participation and the social fabric of the
classroom relative to students with learning disabilities. 1 offer data regarding task
engagement and social relationships from videotaped and in—class observations of student
activity. I also include interview data from students and teachers. Student interview data
and student writing samples provide limited information about what the target students had
appropriated from instruction and learning activities for their own use when writing. Taken
together, the examination of writing instruction and activities constitutes a telling case that I
argue illustrates a “railway system” model of classroom instruction and interaction.

There are at least two clearly linked levels of affordance in any classroom. One has to
do with what a casual observer might notice taking place in the classroom (e. g., activities,
participants, materials, grouping patterns). The other is less visible and has to do with
teachers’ goals, objectives, and beliefs (Gehrke, Knapp, & Sirotnik, 1992).

I] S . l I E l C . l

The beliefs about writing instruction held by the Team Room teachers, Darlene,
Monica, and Bruce, involved what they called the “systematic sequential development of
phonics skills,” which they believed to be foundational for the development of literacy. A

word count analysis (Ryan & Bernard, 2000) of their initial interview found a pattern of

75

words and phrz
about hovv thev
cognitive scher
need to fit this‘
To begin vvor‘r.
Current state of
decoding enco
pUWOSe. voice
the SIUdent‘s u
they Worked \'
Student" "pmI
needed and the
awareness of ..
literacy and \v
was Strmmafiz

We dOn“

vvrrh read

that Child

can mm

when Iht
Men“ Were

0U papers. H(

words and phrases that illustrated this stated belief in system and sequence. They talked
about how they "analyze" and "break down the skills” into "steps." Their talk evoked a
cognitive schema (Greeno, Collins, & Resnick, 1996) when they spoke about "where we
need to fit this" in the "structure,""sequence," or "organization” of their literacy instruction.
To begin working with students, they looked for an "entry/starting" point that indicated the
current state of skill development for the individual student. Entry skills evaluated included
decoding/encoding skills, language structures, and writing conventions (rather than
purpose, voice, word usage, and editing/revising skills which were attended to later on in
the student’s writing development) (Rhodes & Dudley-Marling, 1988). From that point,
they worked very "specifically," figuring out "how to go about working with each
student,” "pinpointing" deficits, explaining how "we can spot" or "fine tune" what is
needed and then "gear" instruction accordingly. They emphasized how the continuous
awareness of "this/that/some point" in the student’s progress was critical for individualizing
literacy and writing instruction (Kauffman, Gerber, & Semmel, 1988). Their philosophy
was summarized by Darlene:

We don’t believe that [have kids write and it will come]. And we don’t believe that

with reading either...Certain skills have to be taught. We believe in teaching skills so

that children understand and can articulate what they’re doing. And therefore, if they
can articulate and understand what they’re doing, they can repeat it. (interview)

When they talked about learning to write, Darlene’s and Monica’s goals for their
students were that they be able to get something down on paper, to "write it down," " get it
on paper.” However, they also recognized and welcomed opportunities for authentic
writing when such naturally arose. On one occasion several class members had made a
mess in the lunch room during the noon lunch period. Darlene and Monica asked all of the
students to write letters of apology on behalf of their peers, using the situation to teach
letter writing structure. At the end of the year, students drew on this knowledge when they
were asked to write letters of thanks to a classroom benefactor who had endowed the

classroom with geckos and lizards.

76

The Team P

and Monica inve‘

 

 

 

their reading and
erperience and r
construct vvhat tli
Their nriting cur
pnnted materials
“as "task analvr.
sequential" (teac‘

Darlene and

through multiple

 

and learned in on
exafilple‘ thEV m;
0TexpifllClECl dun
60mp0nems 0f b
“Tiling time, 50 ‘
“Tiling time.._sg
l0 SUPPOI'I Cognir
Students‘ Spatial
MEWS?“ devr

Ultimate 21 class
~ .r

Sch ~
tool 3 posing,

whines to hel
l3

The Team Room teachers did not simply pick their curriculum out of a book. Darlene
and Monica invented and developed their writing program, which was incorporated into
their reading and phonics curriculum. To do so, they gathered ideas from their own
experience and previous teaching, workshops, published resources, and expert advice to
construct what they called a "systematic approach with our reading and phonics program."
Their writing curriculum consisted of teaching sequences, student assignments, and related
printed materials such as graphic organizers. Characteristic of their curriculum was that it
was "task analyzed. And I think we’ve really broken it down, and we’ve made it very

sequential" (teacher interview).

H. ,, o l

Darlene and Monica thought it was important for each curricular goal to be addressed
through multiple learning activities. Their curricular design was such that what was taught
and learned in one area correlated with instruction and learning activity in another area. For
example, they matched board work with phonics center lessons. Skills that were introduced
or expanded during board work were further supported in the phonics center. Additionally,
components of board work and phonics lessons were referred to during shared reading and
writing time, so that students learned basic reading and writing skills “not only at just at the
writing time...so it’s. . .all interwoven” (interview). Darlene and Monica also used writing
to support cognitive learning. During a unit involving map study, the teachers realized that
students’ spatial and relational understandings of their physical position in the world were
not yet well developed. Students’ writing assignments-—in this case, helping author and
illustrate a classroom Big Book about their classroom’s position relative to the school, the
school’s position relative to the town, and so on to the universe-augmented hands-on
activities to help them gain these understandings. Darlene explained:

This [concept of where they are actually on a map] is a concept we have a very

difficult time with the kids understanding, so as we keep working with more hands-on

kind of things and those kinds of writing experiences, we’re hoping that they grasp

where actually we fit in this scheme of things, of this is our city versus our state
versus our county, that kind of stuff. (interview)

77

Board v
completed ir
hoards (thus

This se
student gmr

h'ecti
grammatica
(Spelling p;
“Tiling mm
to their lite]
Where add'l.

and Practic

i h n n

Board work lessons began in whole group activity (described below) and were
completed individually during seat work center. Board work lessons were written on chalk
boards (thus the term “board work”) which were placed on the periphery of the desk area.

f rk

This section considers objectives for board work, features of board work tasks, and
student grouping for board work assignments.

MW Board work was a vehicle for the instruction of phonic,
grammatical (grammar, sentence structure), comprehension (vocabulary), and conventional
(spelling, punctuation) written language skills. It was a central, daily component of the
writing program in the Team Room. The teachers considered board work to be fundamental
to their literacy program, including writing. Thus, board work and the phonics center,
where additional phonics skills practice was provided, were major vehicles for the delivery
and practice of reading, phonics, and writing instruction. The teachers described the
foundational status of board work as follows.

We go through a systematic approach with our reading and phonics program, which is

incorporated into [board work]... we’re always working, always working on

something in the systematic sequential development of phonics skills. ...That’s why
we have such a high success rate with some of our kids” (teacher interview).

It was also central to their individualized approach to literacy instruction for all
students in their classroom: “. . . [The board work is] specific to whatever their needs are. So
they have a specific place they have to direct their attention to when they’re doing the board
work” (teacher interview).

Wales, Board work was designed to accomplish many different
instructional tasks. Components of board work included grammar, sentence structure,
spelling, developmental vocabulary, punctuation, word families, and the structural analysis

of words. Students might be learning number words, color words, comprehension, and

sentence composition. Each new assignment was similar to the previous assignment in both

78

subject matter a
assignments see
laming the “at
on Tuesday (e 3
practice in two .~

dealing with ex:

\
Finish
1. The bah
3. Her chir‘

3. They w
4. She \vil'

As our sub
dlsappeare I

 

Students \\
Paper \vhi]

e \VOf

 

 

 

 

 

subject matter and participation task structures (Erickson, 1996); thus, new daily
assignments seemed more like review work than new learning. For example, a group
learning the “at” word family on Monday (e. g., rat, pat, mat) might learn the “an” family
on Tuesday (e.g., ran, pan, man). The following typical board work assignment provided
practice in two skills: (a) the recognition of the “ch” digraph, and (b) writing experience

dealing with extended text.

 

Finish.

1. The baby chick
2. Her chin

3. They will chop
4. She will check

 

 

 

 

As our submarine dove deeper under the sea a mysterious hole opened up and we
disappeared.

 

 

Students were to complete the sentences by writing the complete sentence on a sheet of
paper while working individually at their desks. The coherence of their sentences would
indicate the correctness of their decoding and comprehension of the incomplete sentence.
The sentence at the end was related to the current classroom theme, Under the Sea, and
served as a prompt for writing extended text.

This was an example of a board work lesson for lower performing students.

 

1. three red balloons
2. four green fish
3. six orange cats
4. one purple hat
5. five black hats

 

 

To complete this lesson, students copied each phrase and drew a picture to illustrate it.
The task was designed to strengthen recognition and comprehension of number and color
words. The nouns were previously-learned sight words following familiar phonic patterns.

W Board work assignments were designed for homogeneous
groups of students. There were as many different board work assignments as there were

groups. Groups were designated by color and were flexible. For instance, the orange

79

 

group was divide
etiedivelv addres
group. The teach;
number to eight
theteachers,
. P'hli“ n P
Board vvork

describes and illt

 

ml

the Clay in a pub]
each “Signment
was designed. E
193” exPetted l
explanations Tr
pretious [Cami

group was divided at one point during the year into “orange” and “orange plus” to more
efi’ectively address the increased differentiation of individual needs of students in the
group. The teachers formed six groups in September, but by October had increased the
number to eight, each group involved with a difi’erent level of phonic skill as determined by
the teachers.

Ihehrhhmdflrixatcfihamflioardflmk

Board work can be considered to have two phases: public and private. This section
describes and illustrates these two aspects of board work.

Whom New board work was introduced at the beginning of
the day in a public context. One of the teachers walked from board to board, explaining
each assignment in turn and interacting with the appropriate group for which the exercise
was designed. During this series of interactions, other students in the class were, at the
least, expected to sit quietly, and at the most, to attend to all of the board work
explanations. In this representative example of such an introduction, Darlene called on the
previous learning of students in a more advanced group as she introduced the new board
work to a group learning compound words for the first time (T is teacher, in this case,
Darlene):

T: Okay. I have got something on this board work, some kind of special word. Does
anybody in [the] purple [group] know what in the world these things are? What
are they called? Adelyn, do you think you remember from last year?

I heard about it.
Heard about it. That’s what ll thought. You heard about it. All right, Donny, you
think you remember?

Compound words
Did you just say that, Adelyn? Very good.

3'59. r-JP?

Darlene often introduced board work assignments by extending an appeal to prior
knowledge: “Does anybody in purple know what in the world these things are?” In this
exchange, Darlene positioned students in the purple group as relative experts in compound
words. Since this group had learned about compound words the previous year, Darlene

related the new lesson to their prior experience. The task for the group learning compound

80

nordsvvz

Om
hovv to ft
hdmem

T

HHngH

9:

arawa

amam

:

Dmkm
phase C
assisraj

(lithe!

\

’Emah
pth
UanScr
0n W01

Stung“.

words was to copy each compound word and then write the two words that made it up.
Once students had defined compound words, the focus of the lesson, they figured out
how to fold a paper to make columns in which they were to write the words. Darlene then

led them verbally through each item of the lesson.

T: Right. You’ve got two small words put together to make a completely new
word. For instance, what is that first word up there?

T: Then what do we have next? Loren.

Loren: Mailbox.

Mailbox. What are two small words in mailbox, Loren?

Mail and box.

Mail and box. How about this word, Lanie? [Lanie has raised her hand]

Popcorn.

Popcorn. What are the two small words?

Pop.

Pop

Corn

And corn. Clyde, find one you know. Raise your hand when you’re ready.

Who knows this one?

[inaudible]

Houseboat. What are the two small words?

House. Boat.

House and boat.

9.

This pattern continued until all of the compound words had been read and segmented
Darlene then moved on to the next board. Before the students began the individual writing
phase of board work, they had already worked the assignment with the teacher’s
assistance. The verbal performance was a resource which supported their later completion
of the board work task.

WWW Darlene’ s task, during board work, was to
verbally shepherd students through each assignment. To help understand the nature of the
public lessons in which students participated, I extracted teacher’s utterances from the full
transcripts, sorted them according to content and firnction, and calculated percentages based
on word counts. For this analysis, two board work lesson episodes involving target
students Lanie and Richard were examined.

Darlene’s talk during the public phase of the two board work lessons examined here

was composed of questions, statements addressing literacy content, statements pertaining

81

to task stru
Table 7
Tv"IE es and

\

Questions

 

Literacy c

\

Task strut

x
EValuatro
\

Other

\

Based
reflecting t
cOmprised
lead Studer
Small “or:
one?“ “Wk
1993 j by f‘
different a
0n'7")‘ and
also 50th
phhkhO]
“canFOu
(illestionini
her qUeStiQ
meedUral
OppOrmnm
“the thint

l992

Refiec

to task structure, and statements providing evaluation, imagery, and filler (see Table 7).
Table 7

 

 

 

 

 

 

__-- Ll! ."r -_ -ege o echer’s T k Drin_'li13ro.g rk

Type of talk Percentage of talk
Questions 36%
Literacy content 13%
Task structure 27%
Evaluation, imagery, filler 14%
Other 10%

 

Based on transcript word counts, 60% of the words in the transcript are the teacher’s,
reflecting the norm for classroom talk (Edwards, 1987). Thirty-six percent of her talk was
comprised of questions, almost half of which were known-answer questions designed to
lead students through the lesson efficiently: “How about this word?” “What are the two
small words?” “Who knows this one?” “What are the two small words?” “What about this
one?” “What are the two small words?” Other questions enhanced learning (Burbules,
1993) by focusing students’ attention on salient characteristics of the lesson (“What’s
different about these words...?”), setting a purpose (“Guess what new thing is going
on?”), and activating prior knowledge (“Do you remember from last year?”). Her questions
also sought to transfer responsibility for the task to students (Graham & Harris, 1994)
(“Which one do you want to read?”) and invited problem-solving (King-Sears, 1997)
(“Can you figure out one of these...?”). Thus, through Darlene’s strategic use of
questioning, she involved students in the lesson and briskly led them through it. However,
her questions tended to prompt declarative knowledge (i.e., “Do you know?” rather than
procedural knowledge (i.e., “How do you know?”) which might have provided
opportunities for students to articulate their rationales and for teachers to get a better sense
of the thinking that lay behind the responses (Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group,
1992)

Reflecting that board work assignments seemed review-like, rather than focusing on

82

the presentatic

related to “ten:
They are .
_..You're
blend ..
They has -.
You've g
\VC’VC gr
Because I‘

task Structure.

COmments rel.~.

. l
XOW [he I

 

the presentation of new knowledge, only 13% of Darlene’s talk in the two lessons was
related to literacy content with comments such as these:

They are called blends.

...You’re never going to find a vowel in a blend. It has a vowel, but not as part of the

blend.

They have two consonants that make a sound put together.

You’ve got two small words put together to make a completely new word.

We’ve got a “s1” in a word, we’ve got a “gl” in a word, we’ve got a” c”l in a word.

Because part of Darlene’s task was to clarify the task, 27% of her talk was related to
task structure, either directing the public task or preparing students for the later private task.
Comments related to the direction of the public task included:

Now the last step.

Now, [sentence] number 2. I am looking for some other people who are in orange

plus.

You can choose any sentence you want.

We have two left, number 2 and number 4.

Look at these words that are underlined.

Find one you know. Raise your hand when you’re ready.

Comments related to the eventual performance of the private task included:

This is how you are going to set your paper up.

That’s what you should have on your paper.

Yes, you do need to draw a picture of it.

You have to write each of these words separately. You might have to go on the back.

Darlene’s remaining talk (14%) included evaluation in I-R-E sequences (“Very good!”
“Excellent.” “Right.”), humor and vivid imagery (Tannen, 1989) (“I hit the jackpot when I
called on Richard.” “I have...some kind of special word”), and repetitions and comments
that could be considered filler (“Mailbox,” “Popcorn,” “House and boat,” “Heard about it.
That’s what I thought. You heard about it”).

Taken together, Darlene’s teacher talk during board work reflected its purpose: to
focus on the component parts of language, providing the students with discrete phonics and
decoding skills. Involving the students in the task meant obtaining and holding their
attention until they had provided correct responses or the teacher was confident that they

could do so later. The task required little negotiation of meaning. Knowledge pre-existed

the task; little new was created nor did it need to be. The students’ task was to attend to the

83

lesson and rem e
assignment late

Board not

assigned seat vs -

expected to rel T-
thev consulted '.
memory might
term memory 5
likelv that assi g
that nevv memo
HSTSIanCe‘ but .

because the ma

Students 566m CI

checked fOr un.|

Work asSigrlm e

TX We

gene

(..“That! S Roi n [I

rally at the

HOW‘et-er’ fOr L
requued Stu der
WOT“ eXampl e
Submarine dO‘t

 

lesson and remember the answers for application to the private completion of the
assignment later.

Wanna, The second phase of board work occurred during
assigned seat work time as students worked individually at their desks. Students were
expected to rely upon their memory of the earlier introduction of the board work task as
they consulted the still-posted assignment to complete the writing task. Reliance on
memory might have been problematic for students with learning disabilities for whom short
term memory skills are weaker (O’Shaughnessy & Swanson, 1998); however, it seems
likely that assignments were so similar in procedure and content from one day to another
that new memory requirements were actually quite small. Students could request teacher
assistance, but there was little evidence that they did or needed to. This was fortunate,
because the teachers were generally occupied with a reading group or at the activity center.
Students seemed to know what to do once the teacher had explained each assignment and
checked for understanding at the start of the day. When students completed their board
work assignments, they placed them in their folders, which were collected by the teachers
later in the day.

WWW Board work assignments were
generally at the word or sentence level, and Darlene’s reference to board work as “words”
(“What’s going on with your words?”) underscores the emphasis at the word level.
However, for groups considered ready to write extended text, board work tasks also
required students to compose text at the paragraph or story level. For example, in the board
work example above, students used the sentence at the end of the assignment (“As our
submarine dove deeper under the sea a mysterious hole opened up and we disappeared”)
as a story starter. As might be expected, this was an appropriate story starter for the current
thematic unit, “Under the Sea.”

Since assignment of extended writing was based on “readiness” for such work (not on

disability status), and since Lanie’s literacy development was more advanced than

84

Richard’s. Lanic
while Richard d

 

    
  
   

and the on-goin;
condition. “her
writing assignn‘

The mo p?

sociocultural as

Richard’s, Lanie received opportunities to write extended text during board work lessons,
while Richard did not. However, with reference to the curricular structure of this classroom
and the on-going evaluation of students’ performance levels, this was a temporary
condition. When Richard is deemed “ready” to write extended text, he will receive longer
writing assignments.

WWW

The two phases of board work were differentiated by material, activity, semiotic, and
sociocultural aspects (Gee & Green, 1998). One of the board work phases was public, and
the other was private.

WW Materially, the public phase of board work entailed the
chalk board representation of the lesson and a predictably patterned verbal exchange
between teacher and students. Students interacted primarily with the teacher and rarely with
each other. The nature of the activity was to establish cognitive knowledge regarding
phonic elements for reading and writing and about the task requirements for the private
phase of the activity. Semiotically, the teacher-student dialogue mediating students’ initial
engagement with the task was characteristically I-R-E (Mehan, 1979), an appropriate
interactional structure for a task where there is only one right answer (Cazden, 1988).
Sociocultural considerations include the roles and obligations which guide participation and
activity of group members. In this activity, the teacher role included directing the attention
of the students to the appropriate text and guiding students through the lesson. The teachers
acted in a dominant role as they determined the nature of the assignments and guided
students through the lesson. Student activity included attending to the verbal exchanges and
responding as required. Student participation in public board work transformed
incrementally; as students successfully performed the public task of response, they learned
how to become better students and to become increasingly adept at being a student in this
particular classroom.

Although students interacted primarily with the teacher, the stratified nature of the

85

board work curriculum provided opportunities for students to position themselves relative
to one another, if they chose to do so. Individual skills of class members were in the public
space whether a student said anything or not, because everyone observed the board work
of everyone else. Although no data reflected students’ performance of such evaluations, it
must be acknowledged that the nature of the curriculum and its method of presentation
allowed these opportunities.

Will. The private phase of board work was intertextually
connected to the public phase through the chalkboard text and the students’ recollection of
the oral text. Materially, the private phase included little interpersonal interaction. The
nature of the activity was to independently apply cognitive knowledge in order to complete
a pencil-and-paper task. As students privately completed their individual assignments, they
assumed by default a dominant role in the activity as their attention was directed to the task
of completing the assignment, while the teachers’ attention was engaged elsewhere.
However, teachers maintained a “semiotic presence” (Almasi, Russell, Guthrie, &
Anderson, 1998) in the text on the chalk boards and possibly in students’ recollections of
the oral text. This was an important resource, since the task was to reproduce the text with
expansions (e. g., a drawing, filled in blanks, extended text built upon the writing prompt).

In addition to teacher talk and board text, students’ prior knowledge of the academic
task structure (Erickson, 1996) also served as a useful resource for task activity. Because
the writing curriculum was systematically constructed, tasks were not completely new each
day, but carried intertextual connections with earlier tasks. Recall that in the above board
work the teacher noted students’ previous experience with “blends.” Furthermore, the task
was also linked to previous social participation structures (Erickson). Thus, the students’
familiarity with the academic task structure (Erickson) for board work was a useful
resource from which they could draw to complete the task independently. Such visible
scaffolding of students’ participation is critical for students with learning disabilities, who

may not by themselves make these useful connections.

86

What was
cognitive and j
The small bits
familiar task st
but real advani

Norms an
Private phases
10 the task um
from teachers
SOmetimes allr
isolated and st
“‘Orkjngg In th:
mangen‘temr \\
nor Planned {0
another While
cont-emmns‘ r

Spelling]! jUSI

BOard “r
CiaSSrOOm, [ht

sheet. BeganS

 

 

What was available to be appropriated in board work were particular forms of
cognitive and procedural knowledge that allowed students to complete their learning tasks.
The small bits of incremental knowledge were specific, manageable, and embedded within
familiar task structures. Appropriation, then, meant metaphorically turning a page, a small
but real advance in linear fashion toward a particular learning goal.

Norms and expectations for student behavior were similar in both the public and
private phases of the activity. Students were expected to sit quietly and direct their attention
to the task without interacting with other students. They were allowed to request assistance
from teachers and even from other students. Such interaction with other students was
sometimes allowed, but seldom encouraged. Peer interactions, when they occurred, were
isolated and sporadic, as when two students were sitting together quietly and seemed to be
working. In this particular situation, Darlene checked with Monica to make sure that this
arrangement was “working,” that they were getting their work done. Opportunities were
not planned for students to collaborate on board work. Occasionally students consulted one
another while doing their board work tasks, but such consultations tended to center on
conventions, rather than on content. As Lanie said, “...She knows if she needs help [for
spelling], just ask me.”

Board work was similar to the traditional phonics work sheet; however, in this
classroom, the value added was the public performance associated with each verbal work
sheet. Because of the wide range of phonic skill levels represented among the students and
the teachers’ commitment to meeting the individual needs of each student, board work
allowed Darlene, Monica, and Bruce to provide specific treatments for small groups of
students. However, providing for this individualization in the public space of board work
instruction afforded opportunities for students to “jump” their individual ZPD bandwidths
(Brown & Reeve, 1987; Vygotsky, 1978). Rather than operate solely in the cognitive space
deemed appropriate by their teachers, students could listen in on the lessons of other

students, much like the one-room schoolhouses of the past. In fact, teachers required

87

 

Students to atter'

advance knovv it

knowledge upc
the more advar.

have the oppor

through the te\.
To fully u
the descflption I

ROOm‘ SlUden:

 

leathers call ec:

liStening Cente-
lisrening cent:i

“tilin- center

 

was a site “he
mpplemenmt
n‘rth teachers
mogtjy of be;
flushed One
which met “
center gm“
l six Cente
Opemng ex
Ahhg

was {GUM

pro“ (1&6 ‘

students to attend to the board work of all students. In so doing, students might acquire
advance knowledge of upcoming phonics skills, equipping themselves, in effect, with prior
knowledge upon which they will be able to draw once they themselves “officially” arrive at
the more advanced level. Without the public broadcast of these lessons, students might not
have the opportunity to take a look ahead, the visual and verbal equivalent of paging ahead
through the text, and appropriate other phonics skills for themselves ahead of schedule.
r' ' n f r r

To firlly understand writing instruction in the Team Room, it is necessary to include in
the description of writing instruction the private activity of the phonics center. In the Team
Room, students’ literacy activity, including board work, was structured around what the
teachers called “centers.” The phonics center was one of six centers, the others being the
listening center, the activity center, computers, reading groups, and seat work. The
listening center involved using headphones and sets of books to listen to teacher-recorded
trade books related to the current theme, such as Mexico, Under the Sea, or China. The
activity center involved the construction of craft projects related to the current theme, and
was a site where teachers encouraged creativity of artistic expression. Computers offered
supplementary practice for reading, writing, and math instruction. Reading groups met
with teachers for the purpose of small group reading instruction. Seat work consisted
mostly of board work and sometimes process writing. The management of center activity
involved one teacher circulating to supervise activity in all centers except reading groups,
which met with the other two teachers. The color-coded groups described above comprised
center groups. Six center periods of about 25 minutes each allowed all students to rotate to
all six centers every day. Center activity usually comprised all morning activity after
opening exercises.

Although the phonics center was not considered by the teachers to be a writing task, it
was foundational for all reading and writing instruction, for it was here that students were

provided with individualized opportunities for reinforcing decoding and encoding skills.

88

The phonics c
hdwpmude
Manage. 199.
Thephor
deanmdh
reinforced the
from or distra
and attendant
dflerentteac
mmmmm
orPencil-ant
In the ti
“nhaphonn
and Other mg
each Of her 5
for each Pict
Se“ionofth

Teacher

TedChe

Sonja

Sonja.
Eache

Sonja:

The phonics center, in fact, served as a de facto extension of the board work assignments.
It also provided a way for teachers to effectively manage seat work (Engl ert, Tarrant, &
Mariage, 1992).

The phonics center was located on two round tables, each topped by an arrangement
of wooden dividers that sectioned each table into four private study carrels. The dividers
reinforced the rule that students were to do their work there privately, without distractions
from or distracting other students. Several tape recorders with multiple headphone jacks,
and attendant headphones, were available to deliver simultaneously one, two, or three
different teacher-recorded audiotaped lessons to groups of one, two, three, or more
students at the center. Center materials included an audiotaped text and either manipulative
or pencil-and-paper tasks.

In the transcript segment below, Sonja, a student with learning disabilities, worked
with a phonics center assignment. As the teacher-on-tape introduced the lesson to Sonja
and other members of her group, who were listening with headphones, Sonja picked up
each of her small pictures and said the name of the picture, emphasizing the initial sound
for each picture while she waited for the next part of the lesson. Then the instructional
section of the lesson began.

Teacher: (on tape) Leaf. Leaves. Find the picture with two leaves on it. Pick it up.
The beginning sound is /l/-/1/-leaves. The beginning sound is /1/, so you
need to put the leaves on the correct letter. Okay now I want you to find
rabbit. Rabbit. Pick it up.

Students chant to themselves: Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit.

Teacher: Find the picture of the rabbit. Rabbit. First sound /r/. Rabbit. Put it on the
correct spot. Now find the picture of the 2. The picture of the 2. Pick it up.
Sonja is distracted by the camera. She is acting for, singing to the camera,
but turns back to her work to find the next picture, which is the 2.

Sonja: (to next student) What did she say?

Someone is moving the divider.

Sonja: Stop it! Who’s moving it?

Teacher: Now the picture of the fish. Fish. ...Put it on the correct [inaudible]. Pause.
Sonja is distracted now, talking about dolphins.

Sonja finds the next picture. She notices that the next student has placed all
of the pictures on the cards without listening to the tape.

Sonja: (to neighbor) You got them all right?

Sonja does the same thing, says the picture, emphasizes the sound, and
places the picture on the correct letter.

89

Sonja
responses i'
pathcipahc
directions 1
the teacher
(6 g. “her
that can be
instance 01
nohced 1h,
had “gone
directions
Placing Qf
requireme
rewiring
m1dents 1
Winters,—
llllChangt
imPIEme
leSSOn b‘

The
“Semiou
Diabsu
portion
Home.“
Verbal S

Sonj a’s subject matter task was to attend to the taped script and produce the required
responses indicated by the teacher-on-tape. She did well at that task. Her social
participation task was to individually, without interpersonal interaction, follow the taped
directions for placing picture tiles. Finding unfilled spaces in the lesson time frame (where
the teacher paused in her taped talk), Sonja appropriately acted to practice the phonic skill
(e.g., where she chanted “rabbit, rabbit”). However, the lesson ends on an interesting note
that can be interpreted either as an instance of expansive learning (Brostrom, 1999) or as an
instance of the construction of a counterscript (Gutierrez & Rymes, 1995). When Sonja
noticed that another student had not maintained the scripted pace of the lesson but rather
had “gone ahead” to place all of her pictures on the correct letters before the taped teacher
directions to do so, Sonja did the same. As an instance of expansive learning, Sonja’s
placing of the markers ahead of the prompts indicated her readiness to progress beyond the
requirements of the current task by implementing for herself a more rapid lesson pace
requiring less response time. As an instance of counterscript, it was evident that the
students had invented their own strategies to deal with the lesson. This was a “mild”
counterscript, however, since both the learning objective and the process remained
unchanged; only the roles changed as students took over the executive function to
implement a faster lesson pace. Instead of the teacher-student interaction framework, the
lesson became a private lesson, completed as if it were unsupervised seat work.

The social conditions of the phonics lesson required that Sonja interact with the
“semiotic presence” (Almasi, Russell, Guthrie, & Anderson, 1998) of the teacher.
Dialogue may be asynchronic (Bakhtin, 1986), and in this case it was, as the teacher’s
portion of the dialogue was created (on tape) much earlier than the students’ (live) portion.
However, students’ interaction with the taped text certainly provided a good facsimile of
verbal synchronic interaction. Because students’ social interactions were bounded at the

phonics center, less attention to the maintenance of social identities was needed, potentially

9O

allowii

\\
was. ir
room ('
head pl
objeeti

skills.

Pr.
narrati V
“Thing,
aCIl \l ti e
Organize
(i math
topic. se
middle.C
im'OlVed
Editing TE

Thi s

m.
that mam e
was lj mm
mlmber of
“hay fOr 5
were 0th er

Writing [0 j]

allowing a much greater attention to the task.

While the phonics center as activity appeared to be quite different from board work, it
was, in fact, an extension of board work. Although it took place in a different part of the
room (i.e., at tables-with-dividers) and employed different mediating artifacts (i.e.,
headphones, audiotape, manipulatives), the two tasks had similar objectives. The chief

objective of both board work and phonics center work was to gain and strengthen phonic
skills.

Process writing included the public and private construction of both expository and
narrative texts. The Ellison teachers introduced process writing, specifically expository
writing, early in the year. The “process” of teaching process writing began with prewriting
activities such as brainstorming. To support prewriting activities, the teachers used graphic
organizers that illustrated topic/main idea (expository writing) and story structure
(narrative). The next step was drafting. Subskills related to drafting included staying on
topic, sequence, transitions, interesting sentences, endings, and structure (beginning-
middle-ending). Drafting was followed by revising, editing, and publishing. Teachers were
involved in all steps, although they encouraged higher performing students to take over
editing responsibilities.

ii I E [E IN . .

This section considers objectives and procedures for process writing.

ijegtjyes for process writing, Process writing, styled after the writing approach by
that name (Calkins, 1986), was a site for wedding phonic, syntactic, and semantic skills. It
was linked to thematic instruction. For instance, the “Under the Sea” theme resulted in a
number of reports on sea animals, such as octopi and sharks. Thus, expository writing was
a way for students to display their knowledge of the science curriculum. However, there
were other objectives for using expository writing. The Ellison teachers used expository

writing to introduce the concept of textual organization. Expository writing was also

91

intended fc
instmction
production
organized i
included pi
each step ii
in the pre-\
as "how it.
idea turns i
included d:
0f Story 511'
TeaChers a
““h the sn
editing “it
Published.
in *he hallt
mien,
\Vhe,
““0115 st;
required it
prOCeSS W
“prOCeSs C
ofu1eSe p
Alrhc
aha-(.5 rel

“L'naer m

intended for practice of writing conventions. Consequently, the intended results of
instruction in expository writing included skilled knowledge regarding the material
production of written texts as well as metaknowledge that all written texts needed to be
organized in specific and appropriate ways (Halliday & Martin, 1993).

W As noted above, steps of the process writing sequence
included pre-writing, drafting, revising, editing, and publishing. For Darlene and Monica,
each step included subprocesses. For example, the subprocesses included “brainstorming”
in the pre-writing phase; and “big ideas” in the drafting phase, which the teachers defined
as “how we learn to stay on a topic, how we divide the big ideas into sentences, so the big
idea turns into being the topic sentence” (interview). In addition, the drafting phase
included determining or selecting genre, which they referred to as “story structure.” Types
of story structure included expository, giving directions, story comparison, and sequence.
Teachers assisted students in the revising and editing of their written products, “working
with the student, talking about it, so it’s more teacher-student conferencing. It’s basically
editing with the teacher and going back and then rewriting” (teacher interview). Students
published their work by recopying the edited draft and posting the final copy on the walls
in the hallway outside the classroom, often accompanied by a picture or other attractive art
project.

When Monica and Darlene talked about process writing, they not only referred to the
various stages of the writing process, but also to the instructional moves, or processes,
required to teach each stage and genre', the process of learning the processes. Thus, in
process writing, they “start working with the process of learning to brainstorm,” the
“process of journal writing” and so forth, “all way down the line as we work through each
of these processes.”

Although board work may or may not have been thematic, process writing was almost
always related to themes. Some of the themes studied during the year included “Mexico,”

“Under the Sea,” and “China.” In fact, the theme served to link a number of classroom

92

activities to support process writing. These activities were variously asynchronous or
synchronous. For example, cognitive resources later drawn on for process writing were
provided asynchronously through the listening center, where students listened to theme-
related trade books recorded on audiotapes by the teachers and completed theme-related
hands-on activities such as map work, graphing, classifying/sorting, data analysis,
drawing, and comparing/contrasting cultures. Providing standardized cognitive and cultural
resources for students was the first of two major sociocultural functions of the listening
center. In fact, the teachers provided all thematic input so that there would be
standardization of knowledge. Teacher provision of input alleviated the need for students to
seek out their own resources, which the teachers considered to be limited. Darlene
addressed this topic during the initial teacher interview.

They haven’t had the experience to, you know, you can’t read about oceans if you

have no clue, or never have heard about it. You don’t, it doesn’t make sense when

you’re reading it, you know, so, or have never been to a zoo...We’re talking about
kids that were have never been out of this neighborhood. And that’s phenomenal, you
know, in terms of experience. You’re talking about some really severe environmental
deprivation here. You got to cover a lot of territory in terms of giving them experience
so they can understand (interview).

A second important sociocultural function of the listening center was to include all
students in the acquisition of common understandings. Listening center activities were the
same for all students; these activities were not differentiated by group. In this classroom,
where individualization of curriculum required independent and private academic activity to
meet individual learning needs, the teachers felt that listening center activities, which the
teachers considered to be “whole group,” were important for including students with
disabilities. As the teachers explained, “everybody participates, everybody’s getting the
thematic information” (interview). In this case, participation meant everyone doing the
same activity and receiving the same input, although the participation and activity were
asynchronous. However, having thusly acquired an enhanced fund of information and

experience to compensate for limited prior knowledge, all students, including students with

learning disabilities, were now positioned with similar cognitive resources on a level

93

playing
referred
C 0
watch If
actisitie;
at the tin
In a

“1th thes
learning :
COHSIrUCt
baby “ha
area Ofllti
the buildir
their Work
audience f
Writii
making ant

organizati o

 

 

playing field, making possible the type of group recitation examined below in the lesson
referred to as the “octopus report.”

Cognitive resources were also provided synchronically by having the whole class
watch theme-related videotapes and listen to teachers read theme-related books. These
activities provided teachers with opportunities to interpret and elaborate on thematic material
at the time the class viewed the videotape or listened to the reading.

In addition to the activities mentioned above, elaborate crafts activities were associated
with these units, maintaining high motivation and interest in the science and social studies
learning associated with the themes. Darlene, Monica, and Bruce specialized in the
construction of life-sized papiér—maché structures: trees, alligators, jellyfish, and even a
baby whale. Students painted and decorated these artifacts, which decorated the activity
area of the classroom and were used in dramatic productions performed for other classes in
the building and other schools in the district. In this way, students shared the results of
their work with other members of the school community, who provided an authentic
audience for students’ products.

Writing skills addressed within the framework of process writing focused on meaning
making and included sequencing, transitions, composing interesting sentences, and
organization (beginning [front], middle, end [back]). Staying on topic was of critical
importance for Darlene and Monica: “The first really main thing we work on is keeping
them on topic. And we use expository writing to start with that, because it’s a lot easier.”

Darlene, Monica, and Bruce believed that learning these various writing “processes”
and skills was important for their students, but they understood that students’ use of formal
nomenclature (e.g., “topic sentence” instead of “big idea”) may not come until later: “We
don’t necessarily get to that kind of vocabulary by the end of second grade. . .They’re
doing it, but not necessarily with all of the vocabulary” (interview). The object was for
students to understand and use the processes even if they did not yet use technical writing

vocabulary to talk about their writing skills.

94

 

Similar to board work, process writing also entailed both public and private writing
events. As a public writing event, process writing took two forms. One form, which I
consider to be an individual task at the point of actual text construction, involved the public
introduction of a writing assignment, often a theme report, to be completed later during seat
work time. Texts constructed during the public event ranged in completeness from
structural prompts only (cognitive maps, suggested key words, topic sentences) to entire
texts (a thank-you letter), depending on the developing expertise of the students as a whole.
These public texts served as cognitive supports (Englert, Berry, & Dunsmore, 2001) for
students as they constructed individual texts later. The chief task of the public event
involved establishing the academic task structures (Erickson, 1996). An example of this
form of public process writing is given below as the “octopus report.”

A second form of public process writing, which I consider to be joint activity at the
point of text construction, involved the teacher and students in the public co-construction of
narrative text. In this form, an entire and complete text was constructed during the public
lesson; the text was not a model for later task completion. An example of this form of
public process writing is described below as the “dragon story.” The next sections describe
these two types of public process writing.

‘ru The task for this

 

particular lesson event related to the current theme about oceans, “Under the Sea,” was to
write a report about octopi. The lesson can be analyzed in three phases. In the first phase,
which I call “gathering cognitive and cultural resources,” Darlene and the students recalled
information about octopi. This was the longest phase, continuing for about 25 minutes. In
the second phase, which I call “organizing scientific concepts” and which lasted about 17
minutes, the task shifted from recalling information to organizing it. The third phase, which
I call “technical support,” continued for about six minutes and focused on the technical

aspects of organizing the report structure.

95

lllIIOi
infon
tietsi
Darle
them ‘
recorc

II

A
indicar
inform;
Darlene
aSlting .
What fc
Which c

D :
T.‘

(a

. lad.
M
M.

1“

In the following transcript segment from the “gathering resources” phase, Darlene
introduced the assignment. Previous to this occasion, students had learned thematic
information about sea creatures in the listening center and through other activities such as
viewing videotapes and listening to teachers read books related to the ocean theme. Today
Darlene first directed students’ attention to a poster of the octopus family, and then asked
them to recall what they had learned about octopi, while Monica positioned herself to
record students’ contributions on a chalk board.

Darlene: We are going to be talking about this [poster]. Two days ago we talked
about the jellyfish, and we made a web. Right now, I want you to tell me
everything you know about an octopus. ...What do you know about an
octopus? Donny, tell me the first thing you know about them.

After referring to what had transpired two days ago, perhaps an indirect way of
indicating an objective of the current lesson (making a web), Darlene began to ask for
information. As students offered recalled information learned through the listening center,
Darlene commented on their ideas, explaining and adding information, and occasionally
asking questions to clarify or test students’ knowledge (Cazden, 1988; Nystrand, 1995).
What follows is an extended transcript segment representative of this part of the lesson,
which continued for 25 minutes.

Donny: There’s suckers on ‘em.

T: There are suckers they have suckers on them. Anybody know how many
suckers there are on each arm? There are a lot. And somebody, some
scientist, counted these. And it’s the same on every octopus.

4300 on each arm.

No, not 4300, that would really be a lot.

240

You are right. 240 of those suckers on each of these arms.

That’s a lot.

That would be a lot. Who else knows something about an octopus? Maddy?

: Some octopuses change their color when they’re around, their color, they go,
they change, they, their color
That’s right, when they’re around a certain color they change to that color.
That’s right.

They blend so you can’t see.

They blend into their surroundings; what’s that called?
Camouflage.

Right. Good. Who else knows something about an octopus?

ZE'JWHFDS'JU
E
~<

3:43 :3

".4

*3: at:
Juwan: When a octopus lay their eggs, they’re going to die.

96

He

Jen

Dar
then OlTe
arms. anc
Maddy 53
COl or and
laying Egg
Darlene d:
knowledg.
mam“. 0]
is U116." .. J
famludge
Check 0” ll
TEIaled to 0
of Smdenz‘
know ln 0
fomtally C
lQrm'ng ir

T: That is true too, when an octopus lay its eggs, that’s the end of their life,
they’re going to die. Clyde, I hope you’re hearing all this. Okay. There’s
something interesting about their eggs too. Helen.

Helen: When lays eggs they put eggs on top of a foam like little strings, they put
them all together.

T: Right. This is really strange, Mrs. Baez. When they lay their eggs, they for
instance, they might have they might live in a cave. Here is the opening of a
cave (thawing on the board). When the octopus lays its eggs, Helen was
telling me, they have a string and they have all these eggs on the string, and
they’re all hanging in front of their cave on this string. That is very interesting
too.

Jerry: [inaudible]

T: Jerry is right. That’s another thing. An octopus will stay there until all those
eggs hatch out and protect all those eggs. That’s another they do, they protect
those eggs. Then, that’s the end of their life. That’s right, they have done
what they came to do, and now they’re gonna die.

Darlene’s pattern seemed to be to recognize, evaluate, and accept students’ ideas and
then offer elaborations and extensions. Donny recalled that octopi have suckers on their
arms, and Darlene extended the ideas by recalling the number and who counted them.
Maddy said octopi change color, and Darlene elaborated by explaining when they change
color and asking for a scientific term to identify color change. Juwan raised the topic of
laying eggs, which was greatly elaborated upon, even including a diagram. In this way
Darlene drew out students’ previously acquired knowledge to establish a collective fund of
knowledge that would serve as a resource for each student. However, she checked the
veracity of their ideas by commenting “You are right,” “That’s right,” Right. Good.” “That
is true,” “Jerry is right.” In this classroom, gathering resources involved recall of known
facts judged for “rightness.” The purpose of this knowledge-gathering was twofold: to
check on the accuracy of previous learning and to generate a knowledge bank of facts
related to octopi. It is likely that without this public knowledge-gathering activity, a number
of student, including students with learning disabilities, would not have known what they
know. In other words, understanding the extent of one’s own knowledge and being able to
formally organize it is a complex task. By first making available multiple resources for
learning information, and then by assembling and visually representing a corpus of

knowledge about octopi, the teachers supported students’ access to subject matter

97

knowledge
At se‘

recounting

“her

the lesson,

\
have .
can cl
has a
one It
When
head:
can It
then t
lay eg
nobg
spit it
USE je

Me 1
Can re
Can 0]
they 5
88! f0
pebbn

 

At thi
phELse. The
in appealaj
five c]OU d
chalk both?
used to Sir

"team asl

\ .

 

 

knowledge necessary for constructing a report about octopi.
At several points in the recitation, Darlene made personal connections with the topic by
recounting experiences with her marine zoologist daughter.

D: ...You know my daughter is a marine zoologist. And she goes in the ocean and
learns all about animals. And she
S: And then you thought

T: Shh, shh. She was in a kayak. I was in the front and she was in the back. And she
was out with her paddle, and...

Whereupon followed a story that included an octopus. By the end of the first phase of

the lesson, Monica had recorded this list of information about octopi on the chalk board.

 

have suckers (240 on each arm)

can change color-camouflage

has a beak inside mouth

one kind can kill

when angry they turn dark red

head shaped like a bag

can live in boats, caves, tin cans

then they lay eggs, they will die soon

lay egg string hanging in cave-octopus will protect eggs
no bones-can squeeze into small spaces

spit ink at enemies-makes a cloud

use jets to move-takes in water through jets-move fast
have two hearts

can regenerate arms

can open a jar

they eat fish, crab, shrimp, abalone

get food out of shell by using a rock or their beak or wait for it to open and put a
pebble in

 

 

At this point, Darlene moved into the second phase of the lesson, the “organization”
Phase. The teachers handed out copies of what they called a “brainstorming sheet” (similar
in appearance to a concept map). The brainstorming sheet had a light bulb surrounded by
five cloud shapes (see Figure 2). As Monica drew a large facsimile of the work sheet on a

Chalk board, Darlene asked students to identify what she called the “big ideas”that could be
used to structure the text students would eventually write. Brainstorming, in this case,

meant asking students to think of a “big idea” to organize the known information just

98

Eigmgz, Lightbulb brainstorming sheet.

99

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

could i

--lm

Da
for si mi.
bl" Sayin
gIOUped
Oblect. I]

generate

could be used to structure the students’ reports.

T: Now the other day with jellyfish we talked about the big ideas. We have a lot
of ideas up here, but we can put them together in groups.

S: That’s what we did yesterday.

T: That’s what we did with the jellyfish a couple of days ago. Now, we’re going
to do this again. I need to have someone to tell me what one of these big ideas
is. How can we put some of this stuff together in one big group?...Alan, can
you tell me what one of these big groups is?

Alan: Where they live.

T: Where they live. Mrs. Baez is gonna draw, that’s one of the big ideas....l’m
going to call on you to tell me where they live. You better be ready. We talked
about where they live. And where do they live. Josh?

Josh: In a cave.

T: In a cave. Myra, what’s another place where an octopus might live?
Myra: Rocks.
T: In a rock. Loren, where’s another place an octopus might live? We got a lot of

ideas up there. In caves. Where’s another place?

Darlene referred to a previous lesson where “big ideas” had been generated and called
for similar big ideas for octopi. She referenced the list on the board rather than rereading it,
by saying, “We have a lot of ideas up here.” After several chalk board ideas had been
grouped for the category 0 “where they live,” Darlene’s attention turned to the material
object, the brainstorming work sheet, upon which each student would record the big ideas
generated by the group.

T: You need to look at your paper now. There’s a light bulb here. That’s what we are
talking about. Yes, Alan remembered how to do this all on his own. In this write
“octopus.” That’s right. So the first graders, and those who haven’t been in our
room before, they are just going to be learning about it right now. How to fill out
our brainstorming sheet. Look up here. In your light bulb you are gonna write
octopus... ..Now What you’ re gonna do next is in one of these little clouds right
down here, right here, look at me, on this side (points out the cloud to the lefl of
the lightbulb) you’re going to write, “where they live.” That’s one of the big ideas
we’re talking about, where they live.

At this point, Darlene, Monica, and Bruce moved about the classroom, pointing out
the appropriate places on individual students’ brainstorming sheets where students needed
to write the words “octopus” and “where they live.” When all was in order, Darlene asked
students to list places where octopi live. As students responded in turn, Monica recorded

their ideas on the chalk board under the “where they live” cloud shape she had drawn.

Doing so served three functions: (a) to make visible the structure required for scientific text

100

constructio
how the res
link the firs
Next, I
details: W1".
difficulty \t
conceptual 1
they eat. an
sharks. Re;
T‘

Jon:
I:

 

 

construction involving superordinate concepts and subordinate details, (b) to demonstrate
how the resources of the first list could be drawn on to construct the web, and (c) to visibly
link the first list to the emerging web.

Next, Darlene followed the same pattern to elicit other “big ideas” with accompanying
details: What they do. What they look like. What they eat. Predators. Students had some
difficulty with the category, “What they do.” Perhaps this was a difficult category
conceptually. Categories of information such as where they live, their appearance, what
they eat, and predators could be represented with concrete symbols: cave, eight arms, fish,
sharks. Representing attributes of octopi as things they “do,” was a bit more ambiguous.

T: All right. Who can tell me another big idea... Jon?

Jon: They move fast.

T: Okay, they move fast. What could we call that big idea? They move fast, and
what else do they do that’s special about them? What is the thing we could call
that big idea? Stan?

S: [inaudible]

T: Okay, who else has got an idea? What do we call something that says they
move fast, maybe the camouflage, I don’t know, what can we call this idea?

Trish: [inaudible]

T: “What they do.” Trish said we could call it “what they do.” All right now,
“what they do” you need to write next. That’s number 2.

Darlene prompted students by suggesting several details: “they move fast,” something
“special about them,” and “maybe the camouflage.” Trish provided the category Darlene
was seeking, perhaps recalling the jellyfish lesson.

Details for the fifth category, predators, had not been suggested during the “gathering
information” phase of the lesson, which Darlene noted by saying, “That’s not something
we talked about.” However, since it was suggested and seemed appropriate for the topic,
Monica wrote “predators” on the fifth cloud while Darlene elicited suggestions of possible
predators.

To identify the “big idea” categories, several students drew on prior procedural
knowledge by recalling categories used previously. Subsequent reports made use of similar

categories. Categories for “What they eat,” “What they do,” and “What they look like” all

appeared in reports on sharks, sea otters, and pandas (for a spring theme on China).

101

“Predators"
appearing ii
and “Body
In the I
mote the ss
live." “\Vha
under the cl
“rocks. car
”\\here the

this inform.

Darlen

 

 

“Predators” and “Where they live” appeared only in the shark report. New categories
appearing in later reports included “How they catch food,” “How they eat,” “Enemies,”
and “Body parts.”

In the center of Monica’s representation of the brainstorming sheet on the board, she
wrote the word “octopus” and in the cloud shapes she entered the big ideas: “Where they
live,” “What they eat,” and so on. For three of the categories, she also recorded details
under the cloud shape. For instance, in the “where they live” category, she recorded
“rocks, caves, tin cans, sunken ships” under the cloud shape that contained the phrase,
“Where they live.” Darlene and Monica clarified what students were supposed to do with
this information.

Darlene: That’s number one (writes a number 1 on the cloud on the board). All right.
Now we talked about where they live. Rocks, caves, what else did they say,
sunken ships, tin cans. You’re not gonna write that part down. You’re not
going to write where they live on your paper.

S: Why?

Monica: You’re just writing these words, “where they live.” You’re not writing this
part (points to “rocks, caves, ” etc.) You’re just writing the big idea.

Darlene instructed students to copy only the topic (octopus) and the big ideas from the
chalk board to their brainstorming sheet (in the exact order indicated). However, they were
not to copy to their brainstorming sheets the supporting details as Monica had listed them
on the chalk board brainstorming map. This was to encourage students to find their own
ideas, perhaps by using other ideas from the first list that had not been listed on the chalk
board brainstorming map. The list of details was intended as a model, not definitive of the
only correct responses. However, the texts students subsequently produced generally
reflected the ideas Monica had recorded under the cloud shapes, and in the order in which
she had recorded them. The teachers may have wished for students to be independent in
selection of supporting details, but most used Monica’s model as an exact template for the
conceptual development of their paper.

In the third phase of the lesson, the “technical support” phase, Darlene announced the

assignment: “The first thing you’re going to be writing about is where they live.” Then she

102

proxided a l

Monica as 5

paper:
Darlent

Darlen
be identifier

sentences."

I:
Maddy
T:
Studen
T:

 

 

provided a model for their work by giving a non-exemplar, addressing her utterances to
Monica as she presented a talk-aloud to make visible her thoughts and plans for a fictitious
paper:
Darlene: I’m going to start out, Mrs. Baez, with ‘where they live.’ And here I go.
On my board work paper (the regular, blank sheet of paper on which the
report will be written), I’m going to be writing this report: ‘rocks, caves, tin
cans, sunken ships.’
Darlene’s tone of voice and demeanor signaled that there was a problem that needed to
be identified with this plan. Maddy correctly identified the problem: “You didn’t write your
sentences.” Darlene affirmed the correct response offered by the student.

T A sentence! Oh! When I write a report

addy: You write a sentence.

T: Well, how could I start? What could my first sentence be?
Student: Octopuses live in rocks.
T: Octopus live in rocks...To write your report it has to be in sentences. This

is not a list. This is not a group of phrases. These have to be sentences. All
right. Now. For your work, that is all you’re going to work on today for
seat work.

Darlene concluded the public phase of this process writing lesson by emphasizing
correct report structure and seat work task. To carry out the private phase of the lesson,
students were to consult the list on the board to find appropriate details to include in their
report. Thus, the task for the students included selecting details from the class list and
transforming them into sentences for use in their extended text, without first adding details
in list fashion to their individual brainstorming sheets. Interestingly, inspection of
completed students reports indicated that, although all the words and phrases on the chalk
board were to be transformed into complete sentences, the “big idea” phrases generally
were left as phrases. Thus, Lanie’s first paragraph (with spelling corrected) reads: “Where
they live. They live in rocks and under dark places. They live in caves in the ocean. They
make them small tin cans. They live in sunken ships because it is dark.” As with board
work, the individual activity of report construction was to be done privately, without

consultation with peers (see further descriptions of writing samples below).

Much of the lesson performed in public provided opportunities for the knowledge of

103

one to bet
conspicuc
artifact fo
first list at
potential 1
ideas. thu:
phrases in
(Halliday

Rel at
Scientific '
to student
Monica ar
became p;
resource {I

What
Other class
task accon
[son. to b
Center am
books “a
dramatic
pTOCegs \\

in,

 

meaning

 

 

lenns Oil

I d:

one to become the knowledge of all. The material artifact (Gee & Green, 1998) most
conspicuous in this lesson, the individual brainstorming sheet, served as a mediating
artifact for transforming the knowledge of all into an individual product. The power of the
first list and the concept maps, which is what the brainstorming sheets were, lay in their
potential to (a) make visible the mental functions of selecting, classifying, and expanding
ideas, thus reducing the cognitive load implicit in selecting and transforming words and
phrases into complete sentences; and (b) make visible the infrastructure of the report
(Halliday & Martin, 1993).

Related to the use of the concept map is the use and naming of structural elements in
scientific writing (Halliday & Martin, 1993). The structure of writing is generally invisible
to students and requires techniques, such as the use of webs, to make it visible. When
Monica and Darlene named the “big idea,” they facilitated this visibility. This language then
became part of the common discourse in the classroom (Edwards & Mercer, 1987), and a
resource for understanding the construction of future reports.

What distinguished process writing from board work in the Team Room were links to
other classroom activities, as well as the goals and mediating texts supporting students’
task accomplishment. The teachers designed process writing instruction to link, or, in their
term, to be “interwoven,” with other classroom events. Knowledge gained in the listening
center and through class viewing of videotapes and teacher readings of theme-related trade
books was reflected in the texts students composed, as well as in thematic craft projects and
dramatic presentations. In their turn, craft projects and dramatic presentations contributed to
process writing by providing motivation and interest in the thematic material.

While goals for board work involved attention to phonic elements in text, attention to
meaning making elements was crucial for process writing. Even students who dictated text
were expected to attend to sense-making. Darlene described Sonja’s writing progress in
terms of text organizatiOn.

I don’t expect her to write. I expect her to dictate to me... She had a lot of disjointed

104

ideas:
dragor
know,
\s‘ante
(llCIZiII
that \\
Textu
spelling c;
were not e
be as nearl
Correct prc
PTOduce th
3 Panicula

necessary

Work ,

RB:
1.:
RB;
L;

 

ideas at the beginning of the year, and now she can flow through a story. I mean, her

dragon story that she dictated was unbelievable in terms of where she started. You

know, “A dragon is crying in a cave because someone took his candy. Win Lee
wanted to see who was crying. He wanted to help the dragon.” Before she would
dictate to me, and it would just be all over the park. Nothing made any sense..., So
that was a big change. (spring interview)

Textual features of process writing included sentences with, if possible, correct
spelling, capitalization, and punctuation. Perfect spelling and other writing conventions
were not emphasized for the drafting phase, but the final published copy was expected to
be as nearly perfect as possible, including neat handwriting. This emphasis on a neat and
correct product for public View was termed “quality work.” Students were expected to
produce their best “quality work.” Slovenliness or an outcome that was below standard for

a particular student was not tolerated, and students were expected to redo the work, if

necessary, to produce “quality work.” Lanie furnished her understanding of “quality

work.”

RB: Do you ever read your paper, ask someone else to read your story?

L: Yeah, ask Mrs. Weston. Mrs. Baez, I mean.

RB: Mrs. Baez? And then what does she do?

L: She sometimes, if she don’t like it, she said, “Why can’t you do better?” I say,
“I don’t know.”...Then she says, see if I have a word wrong, and I know it, I
was rus, rus, rus

RB: Rushing.

L: Yes, and um she said, “Why were you rushing?” And I said, “I don’t know. I

just want to get done.”
It 1‘ *

RB: (Looking at Lanie ’s crossings out). Do you call it a “sloppy copy”? It’s not like
the one you hang out on the wall outside.

Y: Hm-hmh. That’s a quality work.

Quality work, to Lanie, was text with no “wrong” words, neatly written to meet the
standards for work that could hang outside in the hallway for public display.

During board work lessons, learning was mediated by teacher talk and chalk board
text. Process writing lessons, particularly those requiring expository text, utilized another
type of mediator, a graphic organizer related to the text organization. For the octopus

lesson, and subsequent reports on sharks, pandas, and China, the organizer was of the

type described above, spider-like images that depicted the central topic and main ideas. For

105

a report on the life cycle of silkworrns (related to the China theme), a circular graphic was
employed (see Figure 3). The teacher, Monica, posted the graphic, which had large blank
rectangles to be filled in with the names of the stages of a silkworm, during the public
preparation for the assignment, on the chalk board. She quizzed students about the stages
of the life of a silkworm, drawing on prior knowledge derived from listening center
materials and, in this case, from students who had been class members the previous year
and who recalled a similar life cycle. Richard engaged with the task structure during this
lesson when he sought clarification of the content of the diagram. Speaking out of turn, as
did many other students during this lesson, he wanted to know about the format of the
diagram. Several times he asked about the model. “Write it in the box? What, the first
one?” “Write that? Write it on number what? Number four? Write it on number three?” “Do
we have to write silkworm?” His questions seem to imply a strong concern that he do the
task correctly. At one point he left his desk to get closer to the board in order to correctly
copy the information.

Access to mediating artifacts, the words and phrases on the chalk boards, in these
public process writing lessons, as it also was during public board work lessons, was
similar for all students. Students were not required to negotiate physical access to these
texts. Because the public texts were created for the purpose of later guidance during private
work, the texts remained in public view for later consultation by individual students
completing their assignments. However, it was possible that students differentially
benefitted from the presence of the texts. For instance, use of the texts depended on
students’ far-point copying skills. Visually, students were at a distance from the text, and
the task of continually focusing and refocusing from one text to the other was difficult.
Some students no doubt found this more difficult than others.

W In the public phase of
report writing during the “octopus report” lesson, Darlene assumed the authoritative role

(Nystrand, 1995) as she shaped the lesson. In the first phase of the lesson, where students

106

 

Figure}. Graphic for silkworm lesson.

107

recall information about octopi, 60% of the teacher talk was teacher-contributed
information, either elaborating on student information or adding additional information.
Nrneteen percent of teacher talk involved asking questions, 66% of which were recall
questions. Fifteen percent of teacher talk consisted of restating students’ contributions
verbatim and evaluating students’ responses (i.e., the E part of the I-R-E). Six percent of
teacher talk entailed other or uncoded utterances.

During the second and third phases, what might be considered the problem-solving
phases of the lesson where students brainstormed “big ideas,” and were instructed in how
to use the amassed information to construct their reports, most of the teacher talk was
focused on guiding students to figure out the “big ideas.” Darlene guided the conversation
by restating information, adding information, and guiding the activity. Her task seemed to
be to elicit and confirm known information. Nineteen percent of the teacher’s talk consisted
of guiding students’ cognitive processes by asking questions such as, “How can we put
some of this stuff together in one big group?” or “What could we call that big idea?”
Eighty-one percent of the teacher’s talk entailed explaining and directing the task.
Representative explanatory and directive statements included the following:

0 You need to look at your paper now. There’s a light bulb here. That’s what we are

talking about. ...In this write “octopus.” That’s right.

- In your light bulb you are gonna write “octopus.” Here it is, right there. You need to

keep your paper out. Oh good, I see some very good listeners here. Now.

0 What you’re gonna do next is in one of these little clouds right down here, right

here, look at me, on this side (points out the cloud to the lefi of the light bulb), you’re

going to write, “where they live.” That’s one of the big ideas we’re talking about,
where they live. Over here. Where they live. Over here. Where they live. That’s gonna
be number one.

0 That’s number one. All right. Now we talked about where they live. Rocks, caves,

what else did they say, sunken ships, tin cans. You’re not gonna write that part down.

You’re not going to write where they live on your paper.

0 You’re just writing these words, where they live. You’re not writing this part.

You’re just writing the big idea.

- All right now, what they do you need to write next. That’s number 2. Write it right

next to it.

- Predators. Write about each of these things. Everything you know about it.

Everything you know about where they live.

The students’ task was to be on call for the elicitation (“You better be ready”),

108

listening for information (“I see some very good listeners here”), and following directions
(“You need to look at your paper now,” “You’re going to write...,” “You’re not going to

write...,” “You’re going to write...,” “It has to be in this order,” “You need to write

everything you know”).

WWW Occasionally extended text

was jointly and publicly constructed by students and teachers during a whole group lesson.
I illustrate this type of activity by describing the construction of a script for a shadow
puppet play to be later performed for other students. Darlene wanted the script to be a
student product, so she conducted several large-group sessions in which students
suggested ideas for the puppet show story while she wove these together into a coherent
narrative. As Darlene gathered ideas from the students and fashioned them into a story,
Bruce wrote the emerging script on large sheets of chart paper. If changes to the script were
made during the lesson, he reflected these in his written text by crossing out the rejected
text and writing in new text.

The protagonist in the play was a Chinese emperor, and the plot emerged as text
construction progressed. Darlene and the students had begun to compose the script prior to
the episode examined in the study, so the she began the new lesson by rereading the text
composed in the previous session. This was made more complex by another teacher task--
integrating two texts. The main text had been previously constructed by Darlene and the
whole group, and, in addition, “dialogue” (direct quotations) had been constructed by the
green group in one of their small group reading lessons. Consequently, in her rereading of
previously composed text, Darlene departed from the script recorded on large chart paper to
read the added text from a paper she held in her hand. The locations of the additional text
Were marked on the chart paper text by asterisks. Later, when the teachers recopied the
Script for the selected narrators of the puppet show to read, they would insert the new text

in the appropriate places. But for now, Darlene simply read the parts of the text in the

correct sequence.

109

These data comprise a 21-minute segment of the script-writing activity. The activity
can be segmented into three major sections. The first section, approximately three minutes,
is spent reviewing the story to the point where new text may be added. The second section
includes major text construction dealing with rescuing the emperor from a dangerous
situation. This part of the lesson has four subsections: (a) priming the class for the next
idea, (b) the bargain, (c) the vote, and (d) the rescue. The third section deals with the

transition to the next topic, the Great Wall.
WW To begin the lesson, review prior work, and get

students into a composing frame of mind, Darlene reread the previously constructed text
and stated the goals for the day: to add the dialogue written by the green group and to
continue the story. In this segment, Darlene first read the main text from large chart paper
posted at the front of the classroom, adding additional text (the added dialogue) as
appropriate as she read from sheets of paper she held in her hand.

T: Green group has added some dialogue, what people are saying in this story.
Okay,...This is how you guys started it. And I’ll see if I can get this correct where
[green group] changed it. (Begins to read fiom the large chart paper.) One day
a long time ago there lived an emperor in China. He was not happy. His lucky
cricket came up missing. The emperor’s son had bumped the cage, knocked it
over, and the en cket escaped. (Reading the added dialogue fiom the papers in her
hand.) “Somebody knocked the cage over and my lucky cricket escaped. What am
I going to do?” The son says, “Oh, father, it was only an accident.” The servants
come and say, “Emperor, we are so sorry we couldn’t find it. But we’ll keep
looking.” Now this is what green group wrote for dialogue. Now, this part then
they took out. We’re going to X that out. Then the emperor says, “Fetch the
magical dragon, Ling-Ling. He will help me find my cricket. Without my cricket,
nothing good will ever happen.” But before the emperor had even spoken these
words, bad things began to happen. Now we’re going to that idea up there. The
palace doors were left open and in crept a Siberian tiger, etc. And that’s where we
stopped with this part.

Adding spoken dialogue to the text was a usefirl literacy learning task, although
participation in the task was spread unevenly since green group had direct experience with
the actual construction of the dialogues, while the rest of the students participated by
Observation. Darlene said little about the added dialogue, except to note that it was being

added to the story.

110

- !0.l a. '1‘ 3. .l‘ u .- .o ‘ ' ...r A- rrrr 15!. 'l ‘r ; Afterrereading
the narrative text with added dialogue, Darlene requested input from the students for the
further development of the story line. As the students offered their ideas, Bruce (the third
teacher in the classroom) acted as scribe and wrote the text on the large chart paper,

following Darlene’s lead.

T: Tell me, the emperor’s last words were this, “Magical Ling-Ling, please come
and help me.” Now what is going to happen? The Siberian tiger is there. The
emperor is frozen in his spot. He is shocked. He is calling for Ling-Ling to come.
He has a magical helper, a magical dragon named Ling-Ling. Raise your hand if
you have an idea of what could happen next.

S: Ling-Ling [inaudible]

T: Ling-Ling hasn’t showed up yet. . .Okay, what’s happening next? Danny.

D: [inaudible]

T: All right, think about it. Here’s what was last said. “The emperor was frozen in
his spot. He was shocked. The tiger was walking toward the emperor. “Oh, no,
Magical Ling-Ling. Please come and help me!” What next? Jay.

J: Then he came.

T: Who came?

J: Ling-Ling.

T: So what kind of a sentence can I have that says that he came?

J: Welcome, I’m here to help you.

A student attempted to suggest an action on Ling-Ling’s part, but Darlene said, “Ling-
Ling hasn’t showed up yet,” meaning that Ling-Ling cannot act here because he is not
present. Thus, the sequence and coherence of the story were preserved. Immediately,
another student made a suggestion. What the student said was inaudible on the videotape,
but it was inappropriate, because Darlene responded by reparaphrasing the story in order to
clarify the situation and make it possible for students to add ideas that made sense. Darlene
did not say, “No, that won’t work.” In each case she either gave a reason (“Ling-Ling
hasn’t showed up yet”) or redirected the conversation (“All right, think about it. Here’s
What was last said”).

Jay’s contribution also required modification. Although he offered an idea that might
Work in the story, Darlene had to work with Jay to clarify his intent and provide meaning.
Jay said, “Then he came,” but the identity of “he” was unclear. Once that was clarified,

Darlene asked for a complete sentence (“What kind of a sentence” meant, in this case,

lll

h

“Make it into a sentence for me”). She might have expected Jay to say something like, “In
came Ling-Ling.” However, Jay gave words to Ling-Ling when he said, “Welcome, I’m
here to help you.” Now, it’s strange that someone who was just arriving in the home of
another individual would bid his host “Welcome,” but Darlene did not address that breach
of social custom. Instead, she added text to make the story coherent so that the plot line
would be ready for Ling-Ling’s “welcome” utterance. She did this by having the dragon fly
in through the window. This idea had not been suggested by a student. Darlene simplified
the task of coherence by adding this detail herself.

Even though the text was displayed on large chart paper for all to see, Darlene’s
strategy was to repeat and paraphrase the narrative. Hearing the story was a scaffold for
students who might have had difficulty reading it, which included much of the class. These
students were more likely to successfully compose a story orally than to either read or write
one. Darlene wanted the students to listen to the text and think of ideas that made logical
sense in the flow of the ideas. However, she discarded the first two student-contributed
ideas. Both student voices were largely inaudible on the videotape, but we can infer what
might have happened from Darlene’s comments. She discarded the first idea, which
apparently involved Ling-Ling, because he had not yet appeared. She also discarded the
second idea, appealing to students to “think about it,” and the repeated the story line for a
third time, ending with, “Magical Ling-Ling, please come and help me!” Darlene worked
with Jay’s “Then he came” until she had a useable idea. Then, repeating her formulaic
query, “What next?” she invited more student ideas.

WW Now that the narrative ideas had begun to flow, one
Of the students, Donny, helped the story take an interesting twist that required resolution

before the Emperor could finally be rescued.

T: So. Ling-Ling is a fire-breathing dragon. He flies in through the window.
So. In flies Ling-Ling and Jay says, “Welcome, I’m here to help you.” What
can happen next? In flies Ling-Ling. He says, “Welcome, I’m here to help
you. What next, Mike? . .He’s saying, “Help me.” The emperor is saying
again, “Help me!” What’s going to happen next?

112

Donny: [inaudible]

T: Oh, Ling-Ling’s got some ideas here. According to Donny, he says, “Oh, I’ll
help you, but first you have to give me 10 gold coins. And not only will I
help you with the tiger, but I’ll get your cricket back.” Hm. All right,
Students talking over one another.

S: He’s quite the guy.

T: So, he is quite the guy. Apparently he’s got some other things in mind.
(Pause for class management.) So, Ling-Ling has said, “Sure, I’ll help you.
Give me 10 gold coins, and I’ll even throw in the cricket. So what’s gonna
happen next?

Here, Donny suggested that the dragon will strike a deal with the emperor. Darlene
liked the idea of a deal and included it in the main script. In the following three minutes,
Donny continued to add ideas, introducing Ling-Ling’s faithful companion and son,
Ching-Ching. Darlene repeated the most recent part of the story, ending with the

interrogative formula.

T: So, he said not only, “Here’s the deal, Emperor, I can help you, but you got to
give me 10 gold coins. I’ll find the cricket, and I’ll bring along my faithful
companion.” I like that phrase, put “faithful companion” in there (this last to
Bruce, the scribe), “I’ll throw in my faith companion, and he will help us out in
all of our ordeals.” All right, what’s happening next?

At this point, students wanted to add more conditions to the bargain and more
characters to the story. To these suggestions Darlene said, “No, let’s stop the deal here
now. . .There’s been enough talk. We’ve got to get out of this,” and “We’re not going to
add another character right now.” As chief director of text composition, Darlene decided

what ideas to add and when to move on to the next event in the narrative.

WM At this point in the story the dragon had made an offer
which the Emperor had not yet accepted. Darlene decided to have the students determine the

Emperor’s response.

T: Is the emperor going to accept this deal, first of all. Raise your hand. Is the
emperor going to say, “Sure, anything you want. I’m in big trouble here.” Or is
he going to say, “Sorry. You’re asking too much.” ...Let’s vote on it, yes or
no... .Head down, eyes closed. If you think the emperor should accept this deal
and get rid of this tiger right now, raise your hand. . .Okay, hands down. If you
think he should say, “No, I’ll figure it out myself,” raise your hand. . . .If you
think he should say, “No, make me a better deal,” raise your hand. You can only

vote once.

Students had three choices. Darlene counted the hands and determined that the

113

Emperor would say, “Yes” to the terms of the “deal.” Now they were ready to proceed

with the rescue.

WW Darlene asked students what the Emperor would say

to accept the deal, and again, Donny made a suggestion which Darlene checked with other

students.

T:

Okay. Donny said, “I don’ t have those gold coins right now, but I will get them
for you very quickly.” Helen, what do you think the Emperor rs going to

say?” Jenny says, “Yes, I will get those gold coins. Morton, what do you say?
(Break for classroom management.)

The emperor says, “Yes, I’ ll get you those gold coins. You’ll have to wait a few
minutes though until I get free from the situation,’ ’something like that... Now
He’ll get the gold coins in a minute. What is the dragon going to do? How rs the
dragon going to help him out?. ..

The emperor says, “I don’t have the gold coins.”

We’re already past that. He’s going to get the coins for him later. How is the
dragon going to help him out? You have an idea?

[inaudible]

Okay we’ re going to go with that... .The emperor is shaking in his boots. He’s
agreed to the deal. He’ll get the money later. The tiger is creeping up, ready to
pounce, the dragon flies down, or no, uses his magic powers, sorry, uses his
magic powers. The tiger, just imagine this, close your eyes. The tiger is floating
up in the air. Then Ling-Ling stops his magic powers and sets the tiger back
down. The tiger runs out as fast as he can back to his home.

In this way, Darlene was offered an idea that she decided to “go with,” and described

the Emperor’s rescue, working students’ ideas in with her own prose to fashion a

resolution to this part of the narrative. When a student interrupted the coherence and

sequence of the story, Darlene cautioned, “We’re already past that.” There would be no

going back once she had determined what the text would say.

WW1, At this point students were becoming restless, and
Darlene began a game. To be called on, they had to be very still, and move a designated

body part to be called on—to blink, raise their feet two inches from the ground, or raise

their arm, and so on. She observed aloud that she needed a transition into the next part of

the story. As the students waited for her next question, she consulted with Bruce and then

Worked out the transition herself.

T:

We had the tiger here. Was that the only issue we had in the story? What was
the Great Wall thing?

114

Bruce: The Great Wall [inaudible]

T: Oh, yeah.

Bruce: The Great Wall is cmmbling and

T: Oh, yeah, the Great Wall is crumbling. Oh, yeah. ...The part that we had next,
was, listen carefully. We’ve got we have to have a sentence that will get us
into the next part. The next part says (reading), “The emperor felt the earth
move under his feet. He hobbles outside,” because he’s in such a state because
of that tiger episode, “He hobbles outside and looks toward the Great Wall and
notices that pieces were falling off. It was crumbling.” Now. We’ve got rid of
the tiger. I guess we could just move right to “He feels the earth moving.” I
could use that next part. “The emperor feels the earth rumbling below his feet
and he hobbles out.” What would he say? He is standing there. (to Bruce) You
could just write that on here. Number three by this. . . .He feels the earth move.
He has just had a very traumatic, meaning very upsetting, horrible experience
with the tiger. He is shaky. He might think that the earth moving under his feet
is just him shaking so bad because he’s scared. I don’t know. And, okay,
what is he going to say now?. . .What is he going to say now? He’s just feeling
this earth shake.

The students had begun work on the next part of the story about the Great Wall in a
previous lesson. At first Darlene wanted a sentence to get them into the next part of the
story; however, after rereading the text already begun, she decided that such a sentence
might be unnecessary. Once that was decided, she launched into her pattern: rereading the
text (“The emperor feels the earth rumbling below his feet, and he hobbles out”),
paraphrasing and interpreting the story (“He has just had a very traumatic, meaning very
upsetting, honible experience with the tiger. He is shaky. He might think that the earth
moving under his feet is just him shaking so bad because he’s scared”), asking the question
that moves the story along (“What . .now?”), and reparaphrasing (“He’s just feeling this
earth shake”).

The lesson continued in this manner for another ten minutes while students became
more and more restless. Consequently, Darlene’s verbal messages increasingly focused on
maintaining classroom order. Dividing this segment of videotape into three equal parts of
approximately seven minutes each, the percentage of Darlene’s task-related talk diminished
from 79% of all words in the first third of the lesson to only 57% of all talk in the last third

of the lesson, while the portion of her management talk grew from 21% to 43% of all talk.

Darlene’s tasks seemed to be to restate and clarify students’ ideas, decide which would

115

be included in the emerging story line, and paraphrase for understanding. The purpose of
her restatements and clarifications was to manage the coherence of the narrative. As text
construction proceeded, Darlene’ 5 pattern was to prompt students by rereading or
paraphrasing the story immediately before the point of new addition to the narrative, then
call on students by saying, “What’s happening next?” She repeated this strategy until she
had an idea, which she restated to fit the unfolding text, then again repeated the sequence.
The written text posted on the board seemed to serve as a prompt used by Darlene to keep
track of the unfolding story, rather than as authoritative text, as a record of what Darlene
constructed from the students’ ideas, and as the eventual script practiced and read by
students for the shadow puppet play. Students did not have to reread the text themselves.
In fact, Darlene herself did not always reread the text, often paraphrasing it with
embellishments (see Figure 4).

There was a large difference between the oral text and the written text. Both were fluid
and open to interpretation; however, the oral text was much more embellished and detailed.
Darlene added ideas as she went, in order to clarify, to motivate, and to interpret. Dariene
provided connection with the emerging narrative by her repetitions and
paraphrasings. Because Darlene repeatedly reread or paraphrased the text, she afforded
access to the text that did not burden students with excessive memory requirements.
Hearing the text repeatedly enabled students to monitor the emerging story for continuity.
Darlene allowed students’ familiarity with their language to support the text construction,
because what came next had to make sense in the narrative. Additionally, through retention
of executive control over which ideas went into the story, she modeled sense-making and
sequencing, two skills most children in this classroom struggled with. As Monica
explained, “They just get totally off the wall, not making sense kind of thing, and so it’s
hard to get them to be creative but still make sense and follow the sequence of events that

makes sense” (interview).

116

Written text (editing in original)

Spoken text

 

One day a long time ago,

there lived an emperor

in China. He was not

happy. right-new. His lucky

cricket came up missing.

The emperor son had bumped

the cage, knocked it over,

and the cricket escaped,* 1
had his servants

The emperor went-to search

for his cricket. But they couldn’t

findit.*B¥ery-a-me-he-theught-of-
1.] l ’l 1 ll
and-sadder?

Bad things started to happen

to the emperor since the

cricket escaped. One day

the palace doors were

left open and a siberian

tiger creeped silently in to

the palace. The emperor was
sleeping in his bed. He growled at
the emperor and bit him.

The tiger got scared and

snuck off into the night.

That morning the emperor heard
a bell signal from the tower.

“Welcome, I’m here to

help you!” said Ling-Ling. “Help

me!” said the emperor.

“You have to give me 10 gold

coins. Then I can get rid of the

tiger and bring back the cricket. I’ll
faithful companion

even bring my son- Ching-Ching

to help!”

 

One day a long time ago there lived an emperor in
China. He was not happy. His lucky cricket came
up missing. The emperor’s son had bumped the
cage, knocked it over, and the cricket escaped.

‘Somebody knocked the cage over and my lucky
cricket escaped. What am I going to do?’ The son
says, ‘Oh, father, it was only an accident.’

Then the emperor had his servants search for his
cricket. But they couldn’t find it.”

Now the servants come and say, ‘Emperor, we
are so sorry we couldn’t find it. But we’ll keep
looking.’

Then the emperor says, ‘Fetch the magical
dragon, Ling-Ling. Maybe he can help me find
my cricket. Without my cricket, nothing good will
ever happen.’ But before the emperor had even
spoken these words, bad things started to happen.

The palace doors suddenly opened and in crept a
Siberian tiger. The emperor was frozen in his
spot. He was shocked. The tiger walks in toward
the emperor.

‘Oh, no, magical Ling-Ling, help me.’ OR ‘Oh,
no, magical Ling-Ling, please come and help me.’
OR

The emperor was frozen in his spot. He was
shocked. The tiger was walking toward the
emperor. ‘Oh, no, magical Ling-Ling. Please
come and help me! ’

In flies Ling-Ling. He says, ‘Welcome, I’m here
to help you.’

Ling-Ling says, ‘Oh, I’ll help you, but first you
have to give me 10 gold coins. And not only will I
help you with the tiger, but I’ll get your cricket
back.’ OR ‘Sure I’ll help you. Give me 10 gold
coins and I’ll even throw in the cricket.’ OR So he
said not only, ‘Here’s the deal, Emperor, I can
help you but you got to give me 10 gold coins. I’ll
find the cricket and I'll bring along my faithful
companion,... I’ll throw in my faithful companion
and he will help us out in all of our ordeals.’

Eignrei Congruence between written and spoken text.

117

However, in so doing, Darlene may have missed opportunities for students to practice
their reading skills and to understand the connection between reading and writing. Had
Darlene required students to read and reread the written text, they would have had
additional reading practice. They also would have exercised the connection between reading
and writing. They would have come to understand writing as a tool intended to facilitate
text construction and communication.

In this episode, Darlene established the framework of the narrative and the task, and
invited students to suggest ideas for the development of the plot. She controlled the
executive functions relative to the activity. She was the decision maker and problem solver.
She was the sole arbiter of acceptable material and how it would be used in the narrative.
Her stance was, “Give me your ideas. I will decide which to use. I will interpret them as I
see fit.” She managed text construction by selecting speakers and deciding which ideas
went into the story. She viewed this as a way to encourage students’ creative thinking and
writing. While students could manage well-structured texts (recall the octopus report)
creative expression was a more difficult challenge. At the end of the year, Monica reflected
on this challenge:

They have such a hard time being creative. Ifthey are creative, they just get totally off

the wall, not making sense kind of thing, and so it’s hard to get them to be creative but

still make sense and follow the sequence of events that makes sense rather than just
getting totally wild” (interview).

The dragon story was an opportunity for students to think creatively within limits.
Darlene kept the students apprised about what needed to come next by repeating what had
just been said and asking for the next idea. Each “What’s going to happen next?” question
was preceded by an account of the story line to that point. Consequently, students were not
required to attend closely to the sequence or coherence of the emerging text. In this way,
the teacher did the intellectual work of coherence. This might be an important scaffold for

students who typically have difficulty with coherence issues in both narrative and

expository writing (Englert & Raphael, 1988). However, students might decide that

118

composing text simply means writing the next sentence.

What was available to be learned involved primarily lower level thinking. Students
observed the teacher’s demonstration of expertise as she modeled sense making and
sequencing. By reducing memory requirements, she enabled students to monitor the
emerging story for continuity. Her “What next?” questions focused on the forward
movement of the story line, preventing students from becoming mired in details and losing
sight of the story direction. All of these moves resulted in skilled direction of group effort
by retaining authority and responsibility for both the group process and the product.

Darlene’s method of conducting lessons virtually removed the necessity of making
adaptations for students with learning disabilities. Her ongoing verbal rehearsal of the
emerging narrative made it possible for all students to follow the action. Her reshaping of
students’ ideas to fit the story relieved them of the burden of coherence. Darlene carried the
responsibility for higher level thinking. She clarified students’ responses when unclear.
She added material to make transitions work. All of the students were required to make the
same contribution, that is, to suggest an idea for the story. Sometimes they were required
to put their idea into a complete sentence. After that, Darlene was responsible for coherence
and sequence. Together, the students’ contributions of creative story ideas and the teacher’s

provision of coherence resulted in an engaging and effective narrative.

 

o . The transcript segment
selected for this broad analysis of teacher talk included about half of the entire transcript for
this episode. The remainder of the lesson was similar in character. In this lesson, Darlene’s
talk accounted for about 60% of the total talk (see Table 8).

Fourteen percent of Darlene’s words were contained in questions. Of her questions,
one-third were variations on the question, “What’s next?” The query, “What’s next?”
focused on the forward movement of the story line, preventing students from becoming
mired in details and losing sight of the story direction. Other questions sought to clarify and

develop the ideas that students offered. On these occasions, the nature of the

119

Table 8

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_1- ..-u _'- 1‘11841‘ .fT-. hr’ Tsk-rl -. T kD' 9 ‘Driro _ . a
Type of talk Percentage of talk
Questions 14%
Reading, rereading, or paraphrasing 45%
Repeating/extending students’ statements 15%
Attending to the written text 10%
Talk managing “the vote” 9%
Prompting student responses 5%
Executive decision making 5%

 

conversation was more like problem solving. She asked students what the emperor was
going to say in a particular situation, or what the dragon was going to do.

What is the emperor going to say about accepting this deal?

Okay, what’s the emperor going to say to accept it?

So, what kind of a sentence can I have that says that he came?

How is he gonna say this? What will he say?

And, okay, what is he going to say now?

What would he say, he is standing there.

What is the dragon going to do? How is the dragon going to help him out?

Darlene spent a large amount of time, 45% of her task-related talk, in reading,
rereading or paraphrasing the story. With Darlene constantly rereading or repeatedly
paraphrasing the gist of the story, students could participate in the story construction with a
clear sense of what had gone on before.

When Darlene’s “What’s next?” questions are added to her reading, rereading, and
paraphrasing of the story, 51% of her talk involved repeating the story and asking, “What’s
next?” These two moves served as prompts and supports for students’ responses. Even
though the text was posted on large chart paper in full view of all students, most would
have found the reading and rereading of it during the course of the lesson tremendously
difficult because of low levels of decoding skills.

Statements that repeated or extended students’ ideas included the following examples:

Jay says, “Welcome, I’m here to help you.”

120

Another dragon. Oh, my gosh, we have another character.

Oh, my, another part of the bargain. He’ll even throw in two crickets.

Jenny says, “Yes, I will get those told coins.”

Statements attending to the written text included:

Now, this part then they took out. We’re going to X that out.

Now we’re going to that idea up there.

And that’s where we stopped with this part.

You could just write that on here. Number three by this.

We have to have a sentence that will get us into the next part.

Darlene’s attention to the written text was more for her own orientation than a
necessary component of students’ learning. Her comments almost seemed as if she were
talking to herself. Sometimes she was addressing Bruce, the teacher who acted as scribe.

Nine percent of her task talk was related to managing “the vote.” This vote was taken
to decide whether the emperor would accept the dragon’s deal. Darlene established the form
of the vote and conducted it:

Let’s vote on it, yes or no.

Raise your hand if the emperor is going to say, “Sure. . .

Okay, hands down... .You can only vote once.

Some statements functioned to prompt students to respond:

One thought is, the dragon breathes out fire.

Now, we’ve got that dragon out of here.

All right, think about it. Here’s what was last said.

Almost 5% of Darlene’s talk was related to her own decision making. The following
comments illustrate her executive role.

Now let’s get on with it here.

Let’s stop the deal here now.

There’s been enough talk. We’ve got to get out of this.

We’re not going to add another character right now.

We’re already past that.

We’re not at that point yet.

We’re going to go with that.

Darlene was firmly in charge of the lesson as she solicited students ideas about the
plot. She protected the coherence of the story while asking for and incorporating students’
ideas into the text. As a writing lesson, the teacher was doing the writing while students

were adding meaningful text. The teacher’s questions, and particularly the student voting,

121

 

provided an Opportunity for students to provide input into the story and feel that they had
ownership of the developing script.

The nature of the social interaction patterns in classrooms can make a substantial
difference in the classroom experiences of students, including those with learning
disabilities. The dilemma teachers such as Darlene might face in planning interactional
opportunities in the classroom is how much scaffolding to provide for students while still
allowing maximum opportunity for student choice and control in the instructional activity.
Collaborative and interactive activity structures have the potential to empower students and
teachers as co-participants in the instructional event by positioning students in roles
typically associated with teachers (Englert, Tarrant, & Mariage, 1992). Sharing teacher
prerogatives (e.g., calling on students and challenging teacher or student responses) with
students can be a very powerful teaching technique. However, a teacher may have
difficulty in understanding the value of such interaction if she views herself as the primary
source of scaffolding for lower performing students. Feeling responsible for her students’
academic progress, a teacher may value professional and expert support of students’
learning, rather than risk loss of individual support by allowing increased student
participation.

1.- 1 1.11.... '11 :__ ‘1' .11 1111 \1.1!'V‘ 1 1'1'1°

In the private phase of process writing, students wrote individual expository reports,
as in the octopus report episode. They also wrote individual narratives. One individual
narrative was a dragon story, but a different dragon story than described above. In this
section focusing on individual activity, I discuss a teacher intervention called “guided
writing,” Lanie’s and Richard’s individual octopus reports, and individual dragon stories.

Wag, Following the public introduction of writing assignments such as the
octopus report, students individually constructed texts following the model and the
instructions provided by the teacher. Using what they called “guided writing” (interview),

Darlene and Monica provided private one-on-one teacher-child interaction to support the

122

private phase of process writing. Darlene described the teacher role in guided writing:
“While they’re doing the process writing, we’re walking around guiding them” (teacher
interview). As students engaged in private writing tasks, a teacher often paused at a
student’s desk to check on his or her progress and offer guidance:

We’re talking to the child [one on one] as they are writing, and we are guiding in

terms of “What sound do you hear here?” “What do you want to say?” “How are you

going to put that down on paper. ”. . . So in terms of concepts of print, sounds and
symbols, punctuation, directionality, and parts of the writing process, we can guide
them through it, one on one. . .working with that child individually. (interview).

In the following example, Richard sought Monica’s guidance as he worked on a
thank-you note to the provider of the classroom geckos. First, Monica read the last
sentence Richard wrote. Then she offered questions to stimulate his thinking, and verified
that his ideas were in complete sentences.

Monica: “The geckos are nice.” What do you think about them other than that?

Richard: They don’t bite.

Monica: They don’t bite. That’s a good sentence to say.

Richard continued to write, and then intercepted Monica again as she walked past.

R: I got, “They can not bite.”

M Awesome. Now, the geckos are, did you do that magic E by yourself?

R nods: Yeah.

M Very good! Very good! “The geckos are fun.” What’s fun about them? What
do you like to do with them?

R: Play with them.

M' Okay. I like to play with them.

Included in Monica’s guidance was recognition and support of Richard’s use of a
phonic element he had learned, the “magic e” (silent e) rule. She used questioning to help
Richard think about additional text he could add to develop his ideas about the geckos being
“nice” and “firn.” When he suggested an idea, her prosody as she repeated his utterance
indicated that this was a usable sentence, “They don’t bite.” She also modeled how to
expand a phrase to become a complete sentence, “I like to play with them.” Monica’s
expansion of Richard’s ideas enabled him to construct coherent text which addressed the
authentic purpose of writing a thank-you letter to a classroom benefactor.

It was through this individual guidance that process writing was differentiated

123

according to individual student needs. Whereas all students were expected to complete
board work assignments as given (and which were differentiated based on level of student
skill), students advanced to process and journal writing when their basic writing skills
(e.g., encoding, matching sounds and symbols, spelling a number of sight words) were
deemed sufficient to support writing extended text (Davis, Clarke, & Rhodes, 1994).
Darlene and Monica felt that students should be able to encode words before being asked to
write extended expository or narrative text. In the interim, students considered to be
unready for process writing could dictate their text to teachers, which they later recopied.
Thus, “guided writing” included providing advice and assistance for most students and
taking dictation for some students.

WWW Recall that this was Lanie’s third year
in the Team Room, and she had no doubt written a number of thematic reports during her
tenure there. The web for her octopus report was drawn to specifications: topic in light
bulb, “big ideas” in clouds and numbered. The only departure from the formula was when
she recorded the big ideas from right to left on the page, instead of left to right, as Darlene
had modeled (see Figure 5). Her report was titled, dated, and she listed herself as the
author: “All About Octopuses by Lanie 11-99” (see Figure 6). Teacher support was evident
in the category labels written in a teacher hand: “Where They Live,” What They Do,” and
so on. Lanie then added the details in each category, and each group of category label and
details was separated from the others by several blank lines. Conceptually, her selection of
details for each category was appropriate. Monica’s chalk board categories with
accompanying details no doubt informed selection of supporting details for three of Lanie’s
categories; however, she had to construct details on her own for two of the categories, and
this was appropriately done, inviting the conclusion that she did indeed think in categories.
Lanie used both conventional and invented spellings, and most of her invented spellings

were decodable. She used lower case except for appropriate capitalization, and punctuation

124

 

 

Figural, Lanie’s web for the octopus report.

125

. . . All. iii-5911’s.. C's-begin
. Dr ._ ”47 - ...-.....-

were-17114.1“, ..-

cit -,.lrl£ in. - - anal -
Um MAJM
_Cay5‘- ’nflflrra

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elm Lanie’s octopus report.

126

 

._ {$3.3me ..- -515!)

 

 

--jALluct EN inf
hex Eagle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..p 5:31 .-
a be}
4519111116
nil-4161's _.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

127

 

 

included
Lani

something

 

81' the

Contentjon l

paPer that \

 

included the use of periods at the ends of sentences. She used complete sentences.

Lanie seemed open to revising her writing. I noticed where she had crossed out

something she had written in her “Under the Sea” journal, and I asked her about that.

RB:
L:
RB:
L:

I’m interested in this crossing out here. Why did you cross those out?
I don’t want to use my eraser. I need to use it for my

Okay, but why did you change your mind?

Because I thought more other ones.

A few minutes later in the interview she spoke again about revising her writing. I

asked her whether she read it over again after she was done to see whether it made sense.

RB:

Y:
RB:

Y:

Okay, when you’re all done writing-do you read it over to yourself to see if it
makes sense?

Hm-hmh. That’s why, that’s why 1 cross it out, because I didn’t really like it.
Uh-huh. Right. So you kind of read as you go along. You don’t wait until
you’re all done, right?

See, like how I get two rows [lines] done, then I just keep reading them.

Actually, her revision process was strategic, if unique. She reread every two lines to

check whether she wanted to keep the text or revise it. I also asked her what she put in the

beginning, middle, and ending of a story.

"E“Er’é

Okay. So what kind of things do you put in the beginning?
Capital.

Capital? Okay. How about in the middle?

(4—second pause)

What kind of things do you put in the middle of your paper?
Ifyou put a period, we just do capital again.

Of course, too much can be made of one interview; however, it seemed that Lanie’s

focus was on writing conventions. I asked her whether she liked to write.

Yeah.

Yeah? Why?

Because I like to learn harder words. And I like reading. That’s why every
single two things [lines] I start reading it.

What’s your favorite kind of writing?
Quality.

By the end of the year, Lanie could write legibly with correct use of many writing

conventions, but she often “rushed” (student interview) in her drafting, producing a sloppy

paper that was sometimes incoherent and difficult to read. Monica described how she

128

 

 

 

CI
1'8

of

10‘
“I
111

\Vl’

do:

C01

Sen
Cat:

the

encouraged Lanie to use the skills she had acquired.

So I’m always going back and saying, “Don’t bring it to me until I can read it,” and

then she can do it. ...When I start reading her writing out loud, she can say, “Oh, that

doesn’t make sense.” So I just hand it back to her and say, “Okay, now make it make
sense.” (spring teacher interview)

One might surmise that Lanie’s writing skills were advanced enough to allow her to
enjoy writing. She also seemed to have made the reading-writing connection; she enjoyed
rereading her text and did so with the purpose of revising if necessary. One has the picture
of an emergent writer busily crafting her text, using “harder words” and revising to include
“other ones” with the goal of producing “quality” writing. Do we detect an inclination
toward form rather than function? With Lanie, that question is difficult to answer. In her
writing tests (discussed below) she displayed skill in organizing her thoughts. She also
wrote narratives rich with voice and detail. From where was she appropriating these skills,
when formal writing instruction seemed to focus on correct form?

WWW. Until this year, Richard had not
done much writing. Last year he tore up and discarded most of his writing attempts before
completion. However, this year he wrote an entire octopus report. His web followed the
specified format, and he, unlike Lanie, had accurately recorded the “big ideas” from left to
right. Like Lanie, he needed the teacher to write category labels on his report for each
chunk of information (see Figure 7). He then filled in the details, using complete, albeit
short, sentences for most of the report. He did not capitalize the beginnings of his
sentences or punctuate them. His spelling was mostly conventional. Conceptually the
categories were discrete, except for one instance where the color of octopi was described in
the “What they do” chunk.

Richard’s notion of beginning writing was to start on the top line, as he indicated
during his writing interview in December.

RB: Okay. I want to talk about when you write a little bit, Richard. When you have

to write something for school, do you know where to start? Or do you have to

ask somebody?
R: You start on the top line.

129

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“3.16M- . ..

01

h p

1 I..- .slll'

 

 

 

 

 

Ejgurgl, Richard’s octopus report.

130

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 llllllbll-‘ al.;".lot'

 

 

' r

131

 

 

ll.- .n‘l‘l‘l'ii.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. , -.-..,..-...naiS-e5 teem refit

 

 

 

.y' .Iifi‘i'Ifiil’I

p F b F . l b h?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ll 11 x t
1 E E»... a? -li

 

 

 

132

RB:
R.

Starti

than strate

wgzgzgxgwgw

 

ig—

 

 

RB: You start on the top line? And then what?

R:

You write.

Starting on the top line seemed more related to form than function, procedural rather

than strategic. However, he did talk about his approach to spelling.

I try the best I can.

...How do you do that?

Write. Write them. Sound it out.

Do you ever ask a teacher how to spell a word, or a friend?
Sometimes a teacher.

Sometimes the teacher? Not your friend?

No.

Why not?

He[‘s] a first grader.

Oh. How about a different friend?

Sometimes. Sometimes I ask him how to spell a word.

Richard had a two-stage spelling process: first sound it out, then ask a friend, making

certain that it was the right friend. However, starting on the top line and asking friends for

help with spelling were the only strategies Richard mentioned. Usually he just wrote.

RB:

R:

*Iklk

RB:

R:

Okay. Do you ever think about who you’re writing to when you’re writing?
...Or do you just write?
I just write.

No? Like are there certain things you like to put in the beginning, or do you just
write?
I just write.

Richard’s mantra, or perhaps mine, was “just write.” I asked Richard whether he liked

to write. He said he did not.

”WVVE

Do you like to write? Do you, or no?
(first nods, then shakes head)

Why not?

(shrugs)

Is it hard?

(nod?)

What’s the hardest thing about writing?
It’s just hard. The words is hard to write.

Similar to Lanie, Richard’s idea of writing focused on form: starting on the top line,

asking for help with spelling, and writing words. However, it may have been that the

interview focused his attention on components of writing, rather than asking him, or any of

the other students interviewed, to consider reasons for writing or why writing might be

133

 

 

importer
product.-
hi:
exposito
their Chi
hmeonl
The drag
morning
story, but
The

our.

kids

At 11
remainde;
Recall {ha
momenull
text and h
Richard “
thinking.
Alllll

 

aCCOmp“:

With One

6
lheSe 31(le
aJ’OUnd IO
dl'aggn 011

the” C010

R:

 

important to them, or asking for open-ended descriptions of their writing activity or
products.

WWW Not all private process writing was
expository. In the spring of the year, for example, students wrote dragon stories as part of
their China theme activities. They enjoyed writing the dragon stories. Richard spent a lot of
time on his story; indeed, he worked on it when he should have been doing other tasks.
The dragon stories written by the students began with a teacher prompt: “One gray misty
morning Wen-Lee heard terrible sobs coming from a dark cave.” Richard continued the
story, but became entangled in the narrative (corrected for spelling):

The dragon got mad at the kids. When the dragon got mad at the kids, the kids ran

out. When the kids ran out the cave, the dragon got mad and mad at the kids and the

kids were scared of the dragon.

At that point, a teacher rescued the mired story by allowing Richard to dictate the
remainder, and no doubt also by providing help in thinking through and stating his ideas.
Recall that during the public dragon story composing event Darlene provided forward
momentum for the emerging story by her frequent repetition of the most recently composed
text and her formulaic question, “What next?” We can speculate that without these prompts,
Richard was unable to provide a direction for his story and became trapped in circular
thinking.

Although private process writing, and most other academic work, was intended to be
accomplished individually, students occasionally initiated spontaneous ad hoc
collaborations. For instance, students had opportunities during the activity center to talk
with one another. While not specifically directed toward the accomplishment of a joint task,
these exchanges often involved exploration and opportunities to instruct and be instructed
around topics of mutual interest. In the following segment, Richard and Carl colored their
dragon outlines in the activity center as they talked about rainbows, a topic precipitated by
their coloring patterns.

R: Carl, you coloring yours all red?

134

 

 

'r-.1.I-

Rich
meant wh
meant tha
although 1
(Yellow, 11
be that he
riiinlrow F
coloring.
of rainbo‘
Only “he

I
With the r

 

Opp 01mm

a... ,0 11'

 

 

Yeah.

I’m coloring mine all this color.

All yellow?

Yeah. Red your favorite color?

All the colors. Why?

Pink too?

Yeah.

That’s a girl color.

(sounding irritated) I don’t care.

The rainbow look better than markers.

That’s all the colors. Well, not all the colors. Not gold and black. Rainbows don’t
have black.

That’s only when it rain, a rainbow come up.

Yeah, when it’s sunny, when it’s raining.

Yeah, when it’s kind of dry outside.

No, when it’s the sun’s out and when it’s raining, the rainbows come out.
Because rainbows are clean in the rain, but you can’t see it, but when the sun is
out with the rain, you can see the rainbows in rain.

Richard noticed that Carl was coloring his dragon all different colors. What Richard
meant when he said, “The rainbow look better than markers,” is unclear. He might have
meant that rainbow colors were better than a single color for the task they were doing,
although this interpretation seems unlikely, since he was coloring his all “this color”
(yellow, note his difficulty in finding the precise word). An alternative interpretation might
be that he was referring to a real rainbow, meaning that a real rainbow looks better than a
rainbow produced with colored markers, a possibly derogatory comment about Carl’s
coloring. Carl introduced a scientific consideration of rainbows, commenting on the colors
of rainbows. Richard stated his understanding of what caused rainbows to occur, “That’s
only when it rain, a rainbow come up,” which was corrected by Carl, “When the sun is out
with the rain, you can see the rainbows in rain.” This type of peer talk can provide
opportunities for children to develop their linguistic skills by providing opportunities for
them to try out language and stretch their linguistic resources as others listen and respond to
their efforts.

5 l . EE 1!! . .
Compared with board work, process writing was a much more complex task requiring

repeated trips through the process writing landscape (Spiro, Coulson, Feltovich, &

135

 

 

Ander
steps, ‘
charac
immer:
represe
knowle
Tl.
backgn
establis
Students
0fthe at
Althoug
SCt elicit
followin
abourho
teacher's
indUCfiVf
types of l
knou-jedé
repTCSem
addition t
{ESourCeS
By Using

visible th-

  
 
 
 

 

by which
aCCeSS to

mele’li’r‘;

Anderson, 1988). Although the teachers conceptualized process writing as a sequence of
steps, writing extended text was a processual sequence rather than a skill sequence, which
characterized their board work curriculum. Thus, each process writing assignment
immersed students in a complex process of finding and organizing information before
representing their knowledge by constructing a coherent written representation of their
knowledge.

The public phase of the octopus report provided students with access to standardized
background knowledge required for writing the report. By using a public forum for
establishing common cultural knowledge relative to a particular topic, teachers positioned
students as peer collaborators in a common enterprise, that of composing a text. In this part
of the activity, the teacher’s role was to enhance and expand students’ contributions.
Although the teacher-student interaction appeared somewhat recitation-like, the information
set elicited by the teacher was not totally fixed. The teacher established a pattern of
following students’ leads by asking an open-ended question, “What do you know
about...?” Thus, students selected subtopics for teacher enhancement. It was not the
teacher’s role to suggest, “What did you learn about where octopi live?” Similarly, students
inductively selected superordinate topics for organizing the written report. Drawing on two
types of understanding (Bloom & Krathwohl, 1956) to accumulate and differentiate
knowledge, students were supported by their teachers in this complex enterprise of re-
representing associative knowledge as conceptual knowledge (Vygotsky, 1934/1986). In
addition to teacher enhancement of students’ ideas, teacher supports included material
resources in the form of lists of ideas and the cognitive organizer (“brainstorming sheet”).
By using a stylized system for each new writing assignment, teachers sought to make
visible the process for writing extended text. Components of the system and the language
by which they were identified provided common meanings affording understanding of and
access to the writing process. When Darlene said in the lesson, “That’s what we did with

the jellyfish a couple of days ago. Now, we’re going to do this again,” she both invoked

136

 

 

mdad
constn
T
torecei
macm
\thin
each m
pubhch
nudent
Foreacl
therepo;
findent
Students
In e;
[019 (Bat
larger tea

expefi enc

 

 

 

and acknowledged a common discourse that made visible the process of expository text
construction.

The private phase of the octopus report project provided students with opportunities
to receive individualized teacher assistance as students struggled to compose coherent text
that conformed to the developing collective understanding of expository text structure.
Within the framework of shared understandings of content and process, teachers supported
each student’s learning at a level appropriate for that student. Thus, each student was
publicly involved in the same “task,” that is, writing an octopus report. However, each
student was individually and privately supported as needed in the completion of the task.
For each student, then, the task was inclusive in that it was both identical to (i.e., writing
the report) and different from (i.e., each student’s level of writing skill) that of every other
student. In this highly individualized classroom, common tasks served to provide for
students a sense of community and connection.

In each of these phases, the teacher maintained an authoritative, but not authoritarian,
role (Baumrind, 1991). Students’ ideas and contributions shaped the discourse within the
larger teacher-established frameworks. The teachers provided frameworks for writing
experiences and then supported students as they endeavored to complete writing tasks
according to the frameworks.

0,012. rum! it Igor! 'I t1".- ' or' r I l.‘

I include the activity of journal writing as a conceptual footnote to the discussion of
process writing in the Team Room. Journal writing, although engaged in less frequently
than board work or process writing, was an activity that potentially allowed greater student
autonomy in topic selection and execution of task. During journal writing students were

not guided...The children are totally independent during journal writing time...They

may use pictures, developmental spelling, or published spelling...We don’t spell
things. We don’t do any kind of interaction with ...journal writing, except we’ll give
them the topic” (interview).

The “journal” referred to the specific notebook in which the students did their writing,

137

not to a particular text genré. There were several purposes for journal writing. One was to
provide a site for the practice of writing genrés that might not be dealt with elsewhere in the
curriculum, such as personal experience and reflection, free writing, literature response,
correspondence, and learning journal. In free writing, students chose their own topics to
write about. Correspondence was written communication between student and teacher,
where the teacher responded to what the student wrote. Learning journal was also an
opportunity to solidify and assess what students had learned from their listening center and
other classroom activities about the current thematic topic. For example, one learning
journal assignment was, “Write everything you know about starfish, and what do they look
like. We aren’t going to talk about it; just write in your journal. In the starfish family are the
sea urchins, sea cucumbers, sand dollars, and starfish” (field notes).

In addition to its private aspect, journal writing also had a public component. At the
close of journal writing activity, several students were selected to read their text to the
class. Sharing their writing with the whole group was a desired and motivating activity for
most students. The student stood in front of the class and read from his or her journal.
Class members’ role was that of appreciative audience; they were not required to offer
feedback or critique. Thus, journal writing provided peers with opportunities to serve as
face-to-face audiences for one another’s writing. The teachers viewed this part of the
writing process as supportive of individual self-esteem, noting that students were “feeling
so good about it, and wanting to share and show it” (interview).

Hugh!” ... .__. 31:. I‘I 1.10 . org. 1 ('01.! it.- ' 2.01'l

Classrooms are both academic and social spaces, and learning tasks have both
academic and social elements (Erickson, 1996). Therefore, social participation is linked to
academic progress, and both are critical for students’ academic success. Because students
with learning disabilities have been shown to be passive learners (McIntosh, Vaughn,
Schumm, Haager, & Lee, 1993; Vaughn & Schumm, 1996), it is important to understand

whether and how their task engagement can be maintained and social interaction

138

 

 

encourz
social it
As
context:
student
Since pl
task en g
SUUCturt
iIIStnicti
lnle‘idu
OCcaSlOn

lessons i

and We [1

 

 

encouraged in general education classrooms. This section will address task engagement and
social interaction.

As we have seen, writing lessons in the Team Room entailed public and private
contexts. Therefore, to understand task engagement, I needed to understand the nature of
student involvement in public and private work opportunities in the Ellison Team Room.
Since public instructional events involved the entire classroom community, examination of
task engagement in public forums meant looking at whole-class instruction and activity
structures. This examination seemed important for three reasons: first, whole class
instruction allowed teachers to convey expectations and provide guidance for later
individual, private work; second, writing activities, such as co-construction of text,
occasionally took place within a whole class participant structure; and third, whole class
lessons illustrate a participation structure typically found in general education classrooms,
and we need to know how students with disabilities fare in this format.

Similarly, individual, private work periods occupied a large amount of time in this
classroom; therefore, affordances and appropriatory behaviors of special education students
in this participant structure should also be understood. Discovering what were the roles and
expectations related to student activity and how special education students chose to
participate in public and private participant structures was key to understanding task
engagement for these students.

i 1i n ' T k

In this section I define task engagement and discuss types of task engagement during
public and private writing tasks.

WM Orth and Martin (1994) defined task orientation as a
combination of activity (motoric vigor of the child), distractibility (extent to which attention
and behavior can be diverted), and persistence (length of attention span and tendency to
continue a task despite obstacles). Observation of videotapes indicated that Ricth and

Lanie were often oriented to the task at hand. However, we need to know more than

139

whether or not they were on task. We need to know the circumstances and features of
engagement. For this reason, students’ behavior was coded according to five inductively-
generated categories of behavior: overt self-initiated (visibly engaged without external
prompt), overt other initiated (visibly engaged with external prompt), covert self-initiated
(apparently oriented toward activity without external prompt, as in watching), covert other-
initiated (apparently oriented toward activity with external prompt), and non-engagement
(overtly or covertly disengaged). The following sections examine Richard’s and Lanie’s
task behavior according to these five categories of task engagement.

WWW Public lessons in the Team Room were
typically defined by a whole class participant structure. During a public board work lesson,
Richard overtly (visibly by hand raising, speaking, moving toward the board) engaged in
self-initiated (volunteer) behavior as he responded to teacher questions regarding
consonant-l blends. Below are the sentences on the orange-plus (Richard’s group) board,
followed by a transcript of a segment of lesson talk.

Board work sentences:

 

You do not want to slip on glass.

They slid down the hill on the sled.

The class will clap for the dancers.

They like to go to the Boys and Girls Club.

In the segment of lesson talk, Darlene addressed her initial questions to Richard’s
group as a whole. Richard responded by raising his hand.

Darlene: All right, we’re going to orange plus. Orange plus, guess what, new thing

going on? What is it?
Richard raises his hand
Monica: Richard knows.
D: Richard, do you really know? Richard, look at these words that are

underlined...What’s going on with those words? What’s different about
those words than you’ve seen before on your board work? ////////

Richard looks and thinks. Darlene walks over close to him and stands next
to his desk. He is looking at the board

D: What’s different about them?...Can you point to what’s different that you’ve
never seen before?/ Yes or no.

R: [inaudible]

T: Oh, yes, he got it. Come up and tell me. Or point to it. “Cl” is one thing

different. “Gl.” Where is that “g1”? I don’t even see it. Where is it?

140

Richard comes to the board and points out the blends.

Oh, yeah. “Gl.” What else is different up there?

(‘81.?)

Oh, my gosh, he’s found another one. “81.” Look at the sentence. Where
else? I hit the jackpot when I called on Richard. He’s spotting them all.

F3???

Darlene initially framed the task as a visual discrimination task: “What’s
different...than you’ve seen before?” Richard responded, but Darlene seemed skeptical:
“Richard, do you really know?” Although he volunteered to find the blends, he seemed
hesitant once called upon. Darlene, however, provided wait time for him to respond,
although her “yes or no” seemed to signal an intention to move on soon. Darlene allowed
for a choice of response types; Richard could either tell where he found the blends or point
to their location. Darlene evaluated Richard’s response by playfully complimenting his
achievement: “I hit the jackpot when I called on Richard. He’s spotting them all.”

Identifying the blends was the first part of the public task. The second part was to read
each sentence. Again Ricth volunteered.

T: All right. We got blends up here. Richard spotted them. They have two
consonants that make a sound put together. We find out there’s no vowels in that
blend. Now the last step. Who can read the sentences?

Richard raises his hand

T: Richard, you’re just really going to town. You really want to read after all that
work? Which one do you want to read?

R: Number one.

T: Number one? Go ahead.

Before moving on to the second part of the lesson Darlene offered a definition of
“blend” that defined and corroborated what the students had been looking for. Again,
Richard volunteered, perhaps feeling confident about his performance on the first part of
the task. He slowly read the words of the sentence as Darlene pointed to each word with
her long pointer: “You do not want to slip on glass.” He hesitated on the word “slip,” and
several students began to help him decode the word. However, Darlene apparently trusted
that he could do this independently.

D: Let him figure it out.

R: Slip.

D: Slip.

R' On glass.

14]

D: Very good, Richard.

Richard, who volunteered, did well in this public event. He responded correctly to the
teacher’s questions. Craig, a general education student in Richard’s group who did not
volunteer but was called on by the teacher, did less well, having difficulty reading some of
the words in the sentence he chose: “The class will clap for the dancers.” He had difficulty

” (C

with “class, clap,” and “dancers.” To assist him, Darlene guided his word decoding and
had a student demonstrate the word “dancers” by dancing.

This recitation structure provided a public venue for knowledge display and status
acquisition if students were successful. Conversely, incorrect responses might risk calling
attention to a knowledge deficit and appearance of failure. Although the teachers assured
me that all students, including the special education students themselves, were unaware that
some class members were special education students, one might wonder about the effect of
public success or failure on any student. Although Craig was supported by the teacher-
student interaction, and seemed in no way embarrassed or uncomfortable after failing to
independently decode all of the words, such a public forum submitted him to the possibility
of failure and humiliation.

Richard was not always this actively engaged in public, whole group lessons. During
the public, group construction of the dragon story script, for example, he read a book at his
desk rather than participate in the interactions. The teacher seemed to ignore this behavior.
However, access to public activity did not seem to be a barrier for him. He assertively
initiated engagement when he was interested, or when it was necessary for him to acquire
information or demonstrate expertise. In the silkworm lesson interaction described above,
he acted to gain and clarify procedural knowledge about the graphic organizer. In the board
work lesson, he acted to demonstrate his knowledge of content being addressed in the
board work task. McIntosh, Vaughn, Schumm, Haager, and Lee (1993) suggested that one
reason students are not engaged in whole group situations might be the existence of a large

cognitive gap. Perhaps in this classroom, where many students were low academic

142

performers, there was little or no gap between teacher expectations for cognitive
performance and social interaction and what students with learning disabilities could do.
Perhaps this type of cognitively and socially unambiguous and predictable format (I answer
the teacher’s question) was well suited for this particular group of students, and serves as
an example of finely tuned adaptive instruction (Jordan, Lindsay & Stanovich, 1997).

Lanie was seldom overtly engaged during public lessons; however, as was Richard,
she seemed to feel comfortable participating in these lessons when necessary. During the
octopus report lesson, Lanie volunteered a response to Darlene’s general question about
what octopi have: “They have eyes.” In the board work lesson, at the point where Darlene
instructed students on how to fold a paper into four columns, Lanie volunteered her idea.

T: Lanie’s got an idea.

L pretends to fold a paper.
L: You fold it four times [inaudible]
T: That’s true. You only have to fold it twice though. You fold it in half, then you
fold it in half again. You open it up, and voila, like magic, you got four columns.

Three speaking turns later Lanie volunteered to read the word “popcorn” and the two
words that make up the compound word. Lanie’s participation during public lessons,
although quantitatively minimal, seemed qualitatively appropriate.

WWW Private work in the Team Room was typically
defined by individual participant structures. While overt (visible) engagement in whole
class activities by the target students ofien involved providing direct answers to teacher’s
queries, overt engagement in private, individual activities was more difficult to detect.
Since private, individual activities are by definition not shared with others, the lack of overt
interaction makes evaluation of engagement during private work situations more complex.
Generally, if a student seemed to be attending to task without interference, I assumed that
the student was engaged.

Richard seemed to be a such a student. When involved in private computer activity or

the listening center, for example, he seemed quite focused, according to the following field

notes taken on site during the activity:

143

Richard is at a computer. He is tipping his chair back on the rear legs while he is
working. He looks at his neighbor’s computer from time to time but seems firlly
focused on his own computer.

Computer: Reading a book for Accelerated Reader. ...Reads the book and takes the

[on-screen] test independently with no reminder for good behavior...Gets another

book.

Richard is at the listening center with headphones on and is attending to the open book

in front of him. He smoothes the page and stands the book up. He looks around

briefly at a loud student voice, but gets right back to his book.

Richard’s task engagement during the private work that characterized center time was
typical for most students in the classroom. However, he was occasionally disengaged. He
was sometimes distracted by the presence of the camera, at which time he would clown for
the camera instead of working on his assignment, or he would visit with peers, rather than
working at the computer or completing writing assignments at his seat.

Lanie generally maintained engagement despite distractions during private work.
Again, these observations from field notes written on site during the activities indicated

persistent engagement with private tasks.

Lanie at listening center. Turning head to indicate following along in book...Gets right
back to her task after interruption...

Board work: Students moving around and being noisy, but although Lanie looks up
from time to time, she does not speak and gets back to work...Points out camera to
another student but gets back to work. Focusing very intently on her writing, which is
producing a constant stream of writing; the words are “flowing,” so to speak...another
student speaks to her, but she doesn’t stop writing right away.

Lanie’s strategies for maintaining task engagement during private work included self-
talk (Gallimore & Tharp, 1990). During the silkworm report writing assignment, she was
recorded as saying, “The first step. The first step the first step the first step is.”

However, Lanie was occasionally disengaged during private work. Some of these
instances occurred during phonics center activities, but this was usually while waiting for
the next taped response prompt. Once in awhile she distracted herself or some external

distraction caused her to lose her place in the exercise, causing her to enlist the help of a

nearby center participant to get back on track. During private board work tasks (writing at

144

her desk), she was occasionally briefly distracted by the camera, by something in her desk,
or by a conversation with another student.

While motivation to maintain engagement with public tasks depended on the student
and, when necessary, was prompted by the teacher, motivation to remain engaged in
private tasks, particularly those with material results, was often maintained by the task
itself. Once students had learned procedures and expectations related to center activity, the
tasks and materials themselves seemed to encourage engagement-audiotapes provided
structure and momentum, and computer and craft activities provided their own intrinsic
interest. The center tasks which students had the most difficulty completing were, as might
be expected, the writing (i.e., board work) tasks. Although for some students, the
existence of the task was motivation enough (Ames, 1992), for others, additional
incentives and consequences encouraged engagement. For instance, recess was a privilege
connected with task completion, in that uncompleted tasks were to be taken as homework
or completed at recess. Whatever it was that motivated Lanie and Ricth to engage in
private tasks, they both seemed to complete their tasks in timely fashion.

5'” ..EH. 1E. II

In this section I discuss social interactions during public and private tasks. I conclude
the examination of participation in the Team Room by describing and commenting on social
interaction in the phonics center.

WW. During public lessons in the Team Room, the
direction of interaction was generally from teacher to student. The teachers engaged in
numerous I-R-E sequences during introductions of writing assignments. While this
interactional pattern may in some classrooms have the effect of limiting student participation
in classroom discussion, because of the multi-level, multi-age composition of this
classroom, these interactions provided a sort of old-fashioned-one-room-school
opportunity for “rookies” to learn from “veterans” (W eade, 1992). As Darlene put it, “A lot

of times when we get like with this group here, they’ve heard it already from a previous

145

group, so they can move right into blends really easily, because they’ve already heard
about blends.” Introductions to board work tasks thus served three functions regarding the
cognitive content of the lesson: (a) reinforce previous learning, (b) prepare students for the
immediate task, and (c) expose students to the cognitive content of future lessons.

WWW Social interactions for academic purposes did
not occur during private work. However, students occasionally created momentary ad hoc
associations as they completed otherwise private tasks. The teachers allowed these
interactions if they seemed to focus on academic content and foster task completion. In the
following example of such an association, Richard and Maddy, another special education
student, checked with each other regarding task structure during a phonics center activity.

R: (Leaning over to Maddy) I’ m doing the other side now.

Maddy: We have to do this side. Did you notice that?

R: Maddy, you have to circle the picture that match the word.

M' Let me see what you’ re doing. You don’ t know how to do it. You’re

supposed to [inaudible], you dummy.

Lanie also occasionally participated in momentary ad hoc associations of the type
described above. In the following example, for which I do not have the texts constructed
by the students, Lanie and Morris, another special education student, were sitting next to
each other at a table while working individually on their silkworm reports. Lanie had been
receiving help from Monica, but Monica had left. Morris offered to help.

Lanie: Where’s Mrs Baez?

Morris: What do you need help with?

The second story [paragraph]. The second thing. I don’ t know about.

Oooh. Okay. (Reads fiom Lanie’ s paper). The first step is, that’s a A?

The first step is the adult have a egg.

Erase the egg.

Why?

Erase the period. Don’ t erase the egg. (She erases) Just say, then they make
a cocoon

SEE-“'73.!“

Lanie wanted help with her second paragraph, which was to describe the larval stage
of a silkworm’s life. Morris instructed Lanie to erase the period after her first sentence and
add more text, which he suggested (“then they make a cocoon”). However, this type of

assistance was risky. Morris may have been generous with his assistance, but he was

146

combining the wrong steps and giving Lanie the wrong information. The four stages of the
life of a silkworm as laid out by Monica were: egg, larvae, cocoon, adult moth. Morris
leaped from stage one to stage three in the sentence he suggested to Lanie.

As they continued to work side by side on their individual reports, Morris observed
that his report was shorter than Lanie’s.

M ...You’re taking long. I’m doing it small.

L: You’re doing like half of it like that. I’m doing the whole paragraph.

M That’s not whole.

Y: If you can’t make a big word fit in here, don’t make it squeeze it.

Their talk about “doing it small” and “half of it” requires interpretation. Monica had
instructed the students to use the names of the four stages to construct complete sentences
about each stage and then to add details to the report. Morris was constructing a report that
would have four sentences, one for each stage, but lack supporting details. Lanie’s report
would be longer, because she was adding information to each chunk of text describing a
stage in the life cycle of the silkworm. Although she responded to Morris’s observation,
her response did not result in an altered report structure for Morris. Morris’s performance
was not Lanie’s responsibility. The norms in this classroom required expertise to be
directed toward individual work rather than shared between and among peers. Lanie’s
offering of a rule for conventional writing, “If you can’t make a big word fit in here, don’t
make it squeeze it,” was also a declaration of knowledge in the sense of, “This is what I
do,” rather than sharing a useful writing strategy, “This is what you should do.”

In the episode described above, Lanie and Morris interacted around their texts. They
consulted and advised one another. In the teacher’s absence and because of their close
proximity, Lanie and Morris turned to one another for help. However, it is likely that
neither had the tools, expertise, or motivation to truly help the other. Lanie apparently had a
better grasp of the task and its requirements, but she directed her comments toward

explaining her own work, rather than assisting Morris in his. Morris, new to the

classroom, seemed inclined to offer advice, but he had only a limited grasp of the task and

147

its requirements.

Thus, there were occasions when students were allowed to interact around an
academic task. At other times, however, teachers overtly discouraged students from
assisting each other by invoking the task norm of the classroom, individual work. On one
occasion when two students were interacting, the teacher called out from across the room,
“Leave her alone. She needs to do it herself.”

Social interaction in the phonics center, Our consideration of interaction in the Team
Room cannot be complete without considering the interactive components of an activity
where one would least expect to find social contact, the phonics center. Recall that the
phonics center was a study carrel-like arrangement where students wore headsets for the
purpose of listening to audiotaped phonics lessons. The physical arrangement of the center,
with its wood dividers and head sets, appeared to discourage social contact. However, two
types of social contact were observed. One was planned by the teachers; the other was
arranged by students using the unique features of the audio lessons themselves.

The phonics center lessons provided an opportunity for students to interact with the
teacher as a “semiotic presence” (Almasi, Anderson, Russell, & Guthrie, 1998). The
teacher’s talk on the tapes had an informal and face-to-face quality. On tape, teachers
instructed students to work hard and do well, and said they would check with them later in
the morning.

We are going to be making words and practicing words with these sounds. And I’m

going to take a peek and see how well you are doing with this. I think you’re going to

do a terrific job! (phonics audiotape)

On the audiotapes, teachers occasionally referred to previous classroom incidents and
sometimes even chatted about personal events.

So, we were on our way to our cottage, and we had to stop at a store where we

usually stop to get some groceries for our cottage, and they had tapes there, and I

bought some. Came to the cottage, took a nap, made these sticks, went for a boat ride,

now I’m sitting on the floor by Comet [dog]. Comet wants to go for a w-a-l-k. I can’t
say the word because he’ll get up and start bugging me. So he’s going to have to wait

for that. At the end I’ll say that message to him and see what he does. And you can see
what he does and I’ll tell you. Now, we’re working on homonyms again. Homonyms

148

are words that have the same sound, they sound the same but have different meanings
and spellings (phonics audiotape).

Sometimes students responded to the teacher’s comments, rendering their relationship
with the “semiotic presence” of the teacher even more face-to—face—like. In the following
segment of transcribed videotape, Lanie and Ann were completing a phonics assignment.
They occasionally interacted by smiling at each other, usually between responses to taped
prompts. On tape, Monica commented:

Monica: Number three. The word thirty. I am thirty years old.

Ann: She is?

Monica: I really am. Thirty.

The girls are surprised lhe y look at each other and laugh.

The appropriateness of Ann’s real-time comment took the girls by surprise. Lanie and
Ann often responded verbally to the audiotaped comments during these lessons, but rarely
did their response result in a coherent, if asynchronous, conversation with the teacher-on-
tape.

Lanie also engaged in self talk during the taped phonics lessons. On the occasion
recorded in the following segment, she repeated part of the taped lesson about contractions:

Teacher: Next we have “will not.”

“Will not.”
Find “will not.” Put a 2 in “will not.” Remember what the contraction for

“will not” is?
‘(Won3t ”

*F'.‘ til—f

Next, “we’ll.”
“We’ll?” “We will.”

PET]

We noted above the textual features of board work. Textual features of phonics center
assignments were focused at the individual word or sound level, where students were
required to, for instance, indicate the correct sound-symbol match by writing letters or
words or by not writing at all, as when placing pictures or markers appropriately. Textual
features of taped lessons also included the lesson pace (Dudley-Marling, 1998), which was
relaxed to accommodate variable student responses rates. I observed students’ appropriate

or inappropriate behavior during pauses between task elements or losing their “place” in the

149

lesson after being distracted by classroom activity, but I never observed a student who
could not keep up with the pace of the lesson.
mu iii '1!!! E SI 5 . ,7

As a general measure of literacy skill, Lanie’s and Richard’s spring SORT-R scores
(Slosson, 1963) suggested that Lanie worked at a 1.8 grade level and Richard at a 1.3
grade level, both well below their grade placements of 3.9 and 2.9, respectively.
Examination of pretest and posttest writing measures corroborated this prediction.
However, such writing tests provide a far-point measure of writing skill transfer, because
the measures are decontextualized from classroom writing activity. Two writing measures,
representing two distinct writing genres, were administered: expert (expository text) and
personal narrative.
1., mm El'v

Lanie, at the beginning of the year, wrote 96 and 79 words on the expert and personal
narrative tests, respectively (see Figures 8 and 9). In both measures she spelled about two-
thirds of her words conventionally. Examination of other writing conventions revealed
inconsistent use of ending punctuation and capital letters, although words were written
appropriately in the lower case. She exhibited the use of voice (defined as attention to
audience and communication of personality through dialogue, humor, and personal
opinion) in both genres. In the expert paper, she exhibited voice through the use of the first
person and personal opinion (“I know I will get grounded like 2 days”). Her personal
narrative was rich with voice: the event was “fun,” she talks about her favorite rides, and
addresses her audience when she says, “I will tell you...”

Posttests in the two genres, with 76 and 75 words respectively (see Figures 10 and
11), showed in increase in the number of words spelled conventionally. The ratio of
invented to conventional spelling changed from winter to spring from 7:10 and 7:9 to 4:11
on both writing measures. Capitalization after the first word remained inconsistent, as did

punctuation, except that she placed a period at the end of the story and the expert piece used

150

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9‘?

I. -i‘!‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

E

H:-

 

 

fii .

 

 

151

 

 

 

312

.8st «club

Figutg 8, Lanie’s expert pretest.

 

 

 

 

SOL... .»

.wvs I

---mfiru nmwfitxefimfiw W: .. .3...

 
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

I

- -6. - - - wee.
..-:wm ...;me

---$~-.E.U.H.Sx3§qlDWIVPEKSIIL-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

« 45M +1.5: .
Q Q :llflwmuw Ix WP‘D gg.-OE
>n gm: 5330: um: 50¢ gm!

152

Figure 9, Lanie’s personal narrative pretest.

 

 

 

.5- .fififié-e .. ..
- - is -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

QAWNTHM m5:
3

 

«unseat "30:5 gain: Ewaxu

EM Lanie’s expert posttest.

153

.E 0+3 can. 9:

 

--8Q_I.II8 SEIM If r-.. QSIIMMNSI.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I... EIIWWNQIWII I

 

 

 

 

-.s --....aflaaawt . Ia.

IIIw§I FmfimeIQ Ilfiofi IIIII

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

was.

 

I: II§1+mQII§

 

 

 

 

-..Kerboigihfllwcpic

I

 

 

 

IIII lrIIMEaII .IIImIaranyaflI I§OI

 

wwwg .

(J34?

 

 

CULIw£IIQ+IIVCEII ...

+8 >3

 

 

 

 

 

ad- a Is ~53 5:93»
3 «3!. 52.23.. as 522 gm:

Figure 11, Lanie’s personal narrative posttest.

154

commas in a list. Voice was omitted in expert piece, but was used in the personal narrative
when she opined that elements of her trip were “fun,” “very fun,” or “not too fun.” She
also used a rather ambiguous “you,” which may or may not have addressed an audience.
No attempts to edit, other than erasures, were evident in any of the writing measures.

Regarding genre characteristics, all of Lanie’s writing measures can be viewed as
characteristic of the specific genre. That is, Lanie assumed an expert stance in the expert
measures and a narrative stance in the narrative measures. The topic of Lanie’s expert
pretest was extremely unclear; however, her use of the third person “you,” as in “ [if] you
get in a argument, then you will get in trouble, then you get a phone call to your parents”
provided evidence of an expert stance. However, this stance seems to shifi near the end of
the paper as the third person gives way to first person, and the topic seems to take on a
more narrative tone.

Lanie’s experience writing expository reports about animals was evident in her
posttest, which mirrored those reports. Although she did not introduce her topic, pandas,
the intention was clear, and she related four categories to the topic. Three of her categories
were used multiple times in writing assignments throughout the year: what they eat, what
they look like, where they live; however, one was particular to the topic of pandas, their
endangered status. Two of the topics were introduced with a topic sentence or its
equivalent: “The pandas eat a lot of food,” and “What they look like.” Breadth and depth of
knowledge on the topic were indicated by Lanie’s selection of four categories, a large
number for this level of writing, and by her development of each of the topics. For this
type of expository writing which might be compared to encyclopedia text, lack of voice
might not be considered a shortcoming, and, indeed, there was no evidence of voice in the
piece. Overall, as a genre piece her expert posttest is a solid example of expository writing.

Lanie’s personal narratives were also within the genre. Topics were introduced;
however, settings (who, when, where) were vaguely described. In her pretest she was

descriptive rather than chronological in recounting her experience; that is, sentences could

155

be interchanged without affecting the sense of the piece. She also included little detail.
However, her selection of topic and use of voice clearly identify this piece as a personal
narrative. The description of setting contained in her posttest was also unclear; however,
temporality was much more evident in her use of sequence words such as “after that” and
“then,” and in her chronological arrangement of events. Her use of detail also increased, as
she described a boat ride wherein “if you go on the front you get wet a lot,” and later on
“we had a fire and we got bit my mosquitoes.” With her use of voice, the paper rated high
as an emergent personal narrative.

Richard’s pretests contain 44 and 39 words on the expert and personal narrative tests,
respectively (see Figures 12 and 13). He spelled one quarter and one third, respectively, of
the words conventionally. He used no punctuation on either pretest, and mixed his cases.
The personal narrative piece began with a capital letter D on Dog, but in the story all
“Dogs” begin with a capital D, only a smaller capital D. Both papers exhibited some use of

,’ ‘6

voice, chiefly in his use of “fun” and “nice,” as in “cars/dogs is fiin, cars is very nice,”
and “some dogs is nice. some dogs is mean.”

Richard’s posttests in both genres, with 38 and 92 words respectively (see Figures 14
and 15), held the same pattern for spelling. He used no punctuation in the expert piece but
did place periods afier about half of the sentences in the personal narrative. Some use of
mixed case was still evident, but otherwise there was consistent lack of
capitalizationHowever, he did capitalize “I” correctly and consistently in the personal
narrative piece. As did Lanie, Richard used no voice in the expert posttest. However, he
exhibited a high level of voice in his posttest personal narrative, when he described aspects
of New Jersey as “fun,” “nice,” “the best,” “so pretty,” and “beautiful.” Neither piece
addressed an audience.

Richard, according to his teachers, was a “pattern writer,” and this writing strategy

was evident in his writing measures. In the expert posttest, for instance, every sentence but

156

L

IC 3E a ...---....m.:i~.<U

t t t/ ttttttttt mews tttttt o

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a. .... l1 . . -
---that-emcee“----...n..--.nn.
IIIIIII Kw. IIIKHIIQAwIwQIIIII/WskIIINCW

VaUth 6L éu ”NO
IIIIII weIerdWmumrIIawéq IIIII.IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN.
.......... seepimsskfi---m.§::-:a...x-
..... AMM--W2&.§0WIIIK§VI1---.ch ..
tantra -----VeeIxH:kau..
IIIInawwa IIIIIHAMQI IIIIIIIKU IIIII KU‘H
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII C INWxIIIIIQIIIIIIkwwI
IIIIHeMwI IIIIIII new IIIIIIII MEL IIIIIII WMICI
coé-‘ Wh¢O gunk
>9 35 "58.? E339. Ewen

EM Richard’s expert pretest.

157

 

------I-----.I~..mmnh# ..... a “meatllwwfimm
hex- m3b§£i§bwiicmn9 ...... w Kim

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

09.3

....... Unwiwmmmwbwimw- ..---.gfim
as...
-----------Jmmwnm--m:-hid ...... neg
...... We... ---::._...._men---mao::-m.mmmn
............ Mwm.-----mwmmiiiinQH
...... we...“ ---..-K----.m.emq.---:-w£.cm
S

CU Mp - Mr Qt.
............ .a.m\.---t:-.a..-n§----..-:v2..v
---moem ...... ..w war---
............... {I .QI -----.m------%.me ..
comma HEM 53?

>0 gm: a; "ma 58¢ m3“:

158

M Richard’s personal narrative pretest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...................... E -g

................... fie. I .E - wen- gnaw?
..................... finauny .. again-

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII flaw: Head fl+m

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIammIImynyIéIstflIIMIIU...
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII awMIIIIII IL, I

00% ES c923»

>0 "NI—83¢ nan—(mm?! Emmxu

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Em Richard’s expert posttest.

159

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imc
ittiqfla

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mv O
. . . - . .C wax» u m m. I -
.ea . . t a Jq m6 . myvswc
E. z ..o E ..j e -
“Mr II m. ransom . deflatc- a.
no me+S _ fl _ «Ilsa a, crust:
p I; - I . N I «la t WI l m n 4
SW Mm outs cchsmi C o.
QerIs
“an 2502 9:59! 3! «33¢ .30: N can.—

EignreJfi. Richard’s personal narrative posttest.

160

one began with the word “sharks.” He was also patterned in the expert stance he assumed
in all of the pieces. Every piece was descriptive, describing cars, dogs, sharks, or New
Jersey. He did, however, exhibit progress in organization of expository writing. In his
pretest, the details he selected were largely associative, and categories are difficult to
determine. With some imagination, one might find two categories: what cars have and what
can be done with them. In the posttest, four categories could be determined (eating, where
sharks live, what they look like, and what they can do), and at least three of the categories
were developed in some depth. However, as with Lanie’s papers, the topic was implied
rather than introduced, and individual categories were also not introduced.

Richard’s personal narrative pretest is not a narrative, and the posttest was similar in
its patterned construction; however, the posttest did have a sense of personal experience
that was missing from the pretest. This was evident in the use of opinion and in the details
Richard included, for instance, riding his bike and walking his dog in New Jersey.

In both Lanie’s and Richard’s writing, it was evident that instruction in organizing
expository text had shaped their writing practice.
WWW

It is axiomatic that no two classrooms are similar in every way. The two inclusion
classrooms examined in this study had significant differences. What was unique in the
Team Room were strong teacher-student linkages. This began with the establishment of a
strong trust bond between the teachers and each student, allowing teachers to know each
child personally and select the best curriculum and learning activities and opportunities for
that particular child. The systematically sequenced curriculum allowed the teachers to
ensure that no part of the knowledge domain would be inadvertently overlooked and that
each student would engage in learning activities at the level appropriate for that student. No
child was asked to do something he or she might be unready or unprepared to undertake. In
this classroom there was a sense of careful and caring cultivation of each student’s

individual abilities and talents in a systematic, loving, and respectful manner.

161

What was afforded at Ellison was a very thorough and carefirlly sequenced skills
curriculum. Students were placed on the skills “train” at the appropriate station. Staying on
the line and traveling through successive station, the same sequence for everyone,
guaranteed their safe arrival at the final destination. Perhaps some trains traveled faster or
slower than others, but everyone eventually arrived.

In communities of practice (Lave & Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998), individuals are
apprenticed into the local practices needed for successful membership. What constituted
“expert” knowledge required for participation in this classroom community? Expert
knowledge included specific social participation task structures. The chief social
participation structures in this classroom supported student responsibility for managing
their own movements and tasks once the appropriate sequences and procedures were
practiced and learned at the beginning of the year. Team Room veterans had this knowledge
and seemed puzzled at the beginning of the year by the inability of new students to navigate
classroom procedures: “And the second and third graders...are going, what is
wrong...why can’t they do this?” (interview).

During public lessons, veterans were expected to attend to the activity and respond
appropriately to teacher prompts. During private lessons, veterans were expected to
maintain task orientation and to act on their knowledge of procedures. Rookies, on the
other hand, required much prompting by the teachers. A veteran, then, as a valued member
of the community, moved independently in specified and expected paths without requiring
a great deal of teacher input. Because each moved independently within his or her own
cunicular orbit, only momentarily intersecting academically with peers, students could not
be differentially positioned within the classroom. All students, veterans and rookies alike,
had equal access to literate practice, because each had similar orbits through the six centers,
and each was provided with just the nutrient each needed at the moment to grow in

cognitive knowledge.

162

CHAPTER 5
RESULTS #2: THE WATKINS INCLUSION CLASSROOM

I turn now to the examination of writing instruction and the participation of students
with learning disabilities in the inclusion classroom at Watkins Elementary School. Recall
that Angie Blackburn and Rhonda Grant were in the third year of a full-time teaching
collaboration. At any point during the study year they had 25 to 27 students, approximately
12 of which were students identified as special education students, nine being identified
with learning disabilities.

IargetStudentaMartaandflustm

In the fall of the year, I, together with Angie and Rhonda, selected Marta and Dustin,
both students with learning disabilities, as target students to follow more closely in my
research activities. Both Marta and Dustin are referenced throughout the chapter to illustrate
the experience of students with learning disabilities in this inclusion classroom.

WW Marta was a female, Caucasian third grader who was in
this classroom for her third year, making her a veteran of routines and instruction typical
for this classroom. Next year as a fourth grader, she will have the option of continuing in
the classroom, because Rhonda and Angie will exchange their “two/three split” and “lower
el(ementary)” resource combination for a fourth grade and “upper el” resource room
combination. With light-colored hair, slight build, and pixie face, she seemed, in my
observations, to be a quiet, reserved individual. According to Angie and Rhonda, she
scored in the average range, although tending to be withdrawn, on a teacher-report measure
of student temperament (Keogh, Pullis, & Cadwell, 1982). Her teachers also reported that
she was very familiar with the Writing Workshop process of draft, peer conference, teacher
conference, revise/edit, and publication.

Marta’s SORT-R (Slosson, 1963) scores increased from 1.8 grade equivalent in

October to 2.4 in May, resulting in a gain score of 0.6 grade level over the year. Her three-

163

year gain score was 2.2 grade levels. Typical for students with learning disabilities in the
Learning Environments for Accelerated Progress (LEAP) Project classrooms, her first year
gain was minimal, 0.4 (Englert & Mariage, 1996). It was during her second year in the
LEAP inclusion classroom that she made a significant academic gain of 1.4 grade level
equivalent on the SORT-R.

211W Dustin was a male, African American second grader in this classroom
for the first time. Slender and animated, he seemed to enjoy social interactions with peers.
Scores on the teacher-report measure for student temperament showed that he tended
toward distractibility. Additionally, according to Angie and Rhonda, he was relatively
approachable and adaptable, with low reactivity to adverse situations. Regarding his
writing behavior, Angie and Rhonda said that he needed a great deal of prodding, and
neither reread for meaning nor edited his work. They reported that neither Marta nor Dustin
seemed to exhibit a sense of audience or attention to organization in their writing.

Dustin exhibited no gain on the SORT-R during the study year, scoring 0.2 grade
equivalent on both pretest and posttest. Noting the pattern of academic gains referenced
above for students in the LEAP project, it will be interesting to follow his progress the
following year, if he remains in this inclusion classroom for a second year.
Wants:

In this chapter I examine classroom instruction and interactions to describe affordances,
participation, and appropriation related to writing instruction and opportunities for writing
in the Watkins inclusion classroom. I specifically focus on Morning Message and Writing
Workshop. While board work and process writing seemed to typify the writing curriculum
in the Team Room at Ellison School, Morning Message and Writing Workshop did the
same for the inclusion classroom at Watkins. Morning Message, a public task, set the
social participation and task structure (Erickson, 1996) norms for writing in this classroom,
and Writing Workshop, generally a private or small group task, was a site for additional

writing experiences.

164

The chapter is organized in five sections. The first four sections deal with affordances
available in the Watkins inclusion classroom. Section one focuses on the teachers’ theories
and beliefs about writing and instruction, connecting their views of writing and writing
instruction with their views regarding the classroom as a community of learners. Evidence
found in journal writing activities to support this link is included. Sections two, three, and
four examine three writing activities: Morning Message and two types of Writing
Workshop: “regular” Writing Workshop, and the persuasive writing episode. These
activities are described with specific consideration of instructional and learning tasks and
activities, and material and semiotic resources.

The fifth section of the chapter addresses the participation in these activities of students
with learning disabilities. I examine the academic and social engagement of students with
learning disabilities in these activities, focusing on the types of mediating influences that are
afforded to students by their membership in this community, and what is appropriated by
the students as they participate in the writing activities. Taken together, these data constitute
a telling case illustrative of a “community of learners” model of classroom interaction.

Te hrBlif ri'n n 5 tin
n ' i i

In describing Angie and Rhonda’s beliefs about writing, I use two activities--joumals
and mailboxes--to illustrate how their beliefs about instruction were related to their ideas
about classroom community. Angie and Rhonda believed that people have authentic
reasons for and intrinsic needs to communicate (Silliman & Wilkinson, 1994), and that
such authentic communication was critical for students’ motivation to write. As they noted,
“I think that really gives them the motivation to improve their writing, ...they want to be
tble to communicate” (interview). Underlying all writing activities was an understanding of

vriting as “authentic communication” where individuals have a "reason" or "need to write"

1ther' than just writing to complete an assigned academic task. Rhonda observed that when

1e was in school,

165

[writing] was supposed to be “the task” And you complete the task, you meet the goal,
and you’re done with your writing. [If] you’ve written this kind [genré], you’ve

written this kind, you’ve written this kind,. then you must be fluent writers. Whereas
now, Ithink Angie and I both see it as, can we have them want to sit down with a
pencil and paper and communicate with someone and be effective in that

communication. (interview)

Rhonda’s observation implied that communication required attention to audience, and
that becoming proficient in writing multiple genres was necessary but not sufficient to
fiilfill the communicative aspects of written texts. Their views are aligned with those of

researchers who suggest texts must be communicated to have meaning and take shape

through interaction with an audience (Rhodes & Dudley-Marling, 1988).
laumalficmmntncatim
Writing for authentic reasons and audiences was the practice in the inclusion classroom
at Watkins School. Although concern for authentic communication underlay all writing
activities, including Writing Workshop, two specific activities, response journals and
mailboxes, provided very immediate opportunities for authentic communication. W
Mats were “little notebooks where they write to us. They write to a teacher and that
teacher writes back” (teacher interview). Immediately in the morning, while waiting for the
daily activities to begin, students retrieved their joumals--small (3” X 5”) spiral notebooks-
-and responded to what the teacher had written in response to their previous entry. For
Angie and Rhonda, response journals were particularly illustrative of their belief that
vriting should be a form of “authentic communication” and that such authentic
ammunication was characterized by dialogue and reciprocity.
This is truly communication, because I’m going toask them questions, and if they

don’t answer my questions, I’m going to write again, “You didn’t answer that
question,” or I’m going to go and talk to them, “Did you read this?”...So it’s back and

forth. (interview)

In addition, journal writing was motivating. Angie and Rhonda noted that students
nt to be able to fill that page up, and they want to be able to communicate” (interview).
Vor' Marta, journal writing was patterned writing activity. Her strategy was to answer

Jestions posed by the teacher or intern with whom she was in written dialogue every

166

 

day. Typical journal entries showed Marta responding to the teacher or intern question

without extending the interchange. Following are entries for two consecutive days.

Dear Marta, What did you do this weekend? I went to a basketball and

Intent:
volleyball game at MSU. Ms. Donley

Marta: I stayed home for the weekend.

11' * 1|!

Intern: Dear Marta, What did you do at home? What do you like to do when you
get home from school? Ms. Donley

Marta: Iplayd my game. I dot no [don’t know]. I go to my ants hows [aunt’s

house].

However, something interesting happened when the intern stopped asking questions.

Here are several more consecutive entries.

Dear Marta, I will be gone today and tomorrow. I will be in Great River. I

Intern:
will be learning new things. Ms. Donley
Marta: What new things are you learning about.
* * *
Intern: Dear Marta, Great River was fun. It was a big city. I learned about school
things. Ms. Donley
Marta: What school things did you learned about.
* 1k *
Intern: Dear Marta, I learned about what things will be like next year when I teach
by myself. It was fun! Ms. Donley
Marta: I went [want] to see what things that will be like next year.
* 1k *
Intern: Dear Marta, I probably won’t be at this school next year. I don’t know
where I will be teaching. Ms. Donley
Marta: You miet [might] go to a divrt [different] school and teach kides [kids].
11‘ * *
Intern: Dear Marta, Yes, but not until next year. You will probably get new
teachers next year. Ms. Donley
Marta: I no [know] what teacher I am going to have Ms. Blackburn and Miss

Grant.

When the teacher intern stopped asking questions, Marta participated in the dialogue in

more equitable way, initiating and asking questions in the manner heretofore modeled by

6 teacher. However, two days later the intern resumed asking questions and Marta

:umed answering them.

Dear Marta, Did you have a good weekend? Ms. Donley

Intern:
Yes, I had a good weekend. I played with my friends.

Marta:
Here we note a chain of responses with each journal entry building on the previous

/ in the manner of a dialogue (Burbules, 1993). Later in the year Angie corresponded

167

with Marta. Angie followed the intem’s pattern of asking questions, with predictable

responses from Marta. However, one day Angie departed from the pattern, and Marta

noticed.
Angie Dear Marta, We sold lots of stuff at the garage sale on Saturday....Mrs.
Blackburn
Marta: What stuff did you sale [sell] at the garage sale.
* * *

Angie: Dear Marta, We sold a bike and a bunch of books and toys. We sold a kids
basketball hoop and a snow blower and some clothes. We even sold some

of the pots we painted last year. Mrs. Blackburn
Thar [there] is no qashtin [question] Mrs. Blackburn.

Marta:

Marta could not find the question she was looking for, and she did not respond to
Angie’s message. The following day Angie forgot to take the journal home to write her
response, and the day after that she again picked up the pattern of asking questions for
Marta to answer. The intern and Angie did not intend to vary their responses strategically; it
just happened. However, Marta’s response, “There is no question,” makes this change in
dialogue pattern visible, where it might have gone unnoticed.

In her journal entries, Marta recorded the date, wrote neatly, and spelled most of her
words conventionally. Where she used invented spellings, the inventions seemed to be
logical and relatively easy to decipher. Marta also used the intem’s or teacher’s text as a
spelling resource; where Marta repeated the teacher’s words in her response, they were
correctly spelled. However, despite daily teacher modeling of salutation and signature (i.e.,
“Dear Marta,...Ms. Blackburn”), Marta never incorporated those particular letter-writing

conventions into her responses.
For Dustin, journal writing seemed to be an activity to dispatch as quickly and with as

few words as possible.
Dear Dustin, Was your mom glad that you got an A+ on your spelling test?

Intern:
Did you see a movie? Ms. Donley
Dustin: Yes.
* * #1
Intern: Dear Dustin, Do you like to swim? I do. I like to swim when it’s warm out

Ms. Donley
Dustin: Yes I bo [do]

168

 

While Marta’s entries almost always made sense as responses to the teacher’s entries,
Dustin’s often did not.
Intern: Dear Dustin, What did you do this weekend? I watched the basketball game.
Ms. Donley

Dustin: Ihav a tow. Dog Do you? [I have two dogs. Do you?]

When Dustin responded similarly to Angie, she assumed that he had not read her
entries and responded in her journal entry, “What did you write? I don’t think you are
reading what I write. Please come and talk to me about this.”

Much of the time Dustin’s writing was difficult to read because his invented spellings
were more difficult to decipher than were Marta’s. Both the intern and teacher commented
on this when they wrote, “Dear Dustin, I can’t read what you are writing. Have someone

read it! Mrs. Grant,” and “Dear Dustin, I’m not sure what you wrote...Ms. Donley.”
However, enough can be read to note that Dustin seemed to have an emerging
understanding of the dialogic nature of the journal activity. He often wrote a comment
followed by a question: “noic wov tv. Wot or you do Won [?? watch TV. What are you
doing?],” “Yes I fun DiD you [Yes, I had fun. Did you?].” Like Marta, Dustin seemed to
appropriate correct spelling from the teacher’s entry.
Dustin: ...Don Jack hov tadpoes...[Does Jack have tadpoles?]
Angie: Dear Dustin, Do you have tadpoles?...Jack does not have any tadpoles. We
don’t have any pets right now. Mrs. Blackburn
Dustin: I have tadpoles and Dog Do you
From the teacher’s text, Dustin appropriated conventional spellings for “have” and
tadpoles.” He ended his journal entry with his almost formulaic, “Do you?”

Toward the end of the year Angie and Rhonda’s goal for the students’ journal writing
is to fill a page in the small note pad. They suggested this to the whole class, and also
11' vidually to students who needed to be prompted: “Dear Dustin, Now I get to write to
1! I hope you will write a lot...Ms. Donley.” Dustin never did fill the page.

Marta and Dustin represent different levels of participation in a writing activity. Marta,

more experienced student with higher literacy skills, was able to produce relatively

169

conventional text that fulfilled the dialogic requirements of the activity. Angie and Rhonda
report that she also wrote notes to teachers through the mailboxes. It seems likely, that

given Marta’s verbal reticence, both journal writing and mailboxes (see below) provided
opportunities for social interactions that were difficult to maintain verbally. Through the
writing option, Marta had opportunities to socialize and communicate with others in the
classroom, as well as to practice her writing skills (Graves, 1991). Marta wrote to
communicate, at least in her journal writing and mailboxes. Dustin, a student with fewer
developed writing skills, had not yet appropriated the teachers’ goals for journal writing
However, the activity provided teachers with opportunities to push his writing by
encouraging him to write more, to make his messages readable, and to respond to their
communications. Although gains seemed difficult to note, by the end of the year Dustin had
developed the strategy of copying the teacher’s spelling for use in his own text. Angie and

Rhonda thought this use of the teacher’s text as a resource to be a positive strategy, “It’s a

repetition that he can find right here within the writing.”

M ' x i ' n
Another “authentic communication” writing activity was mailboxes. Mailboxes was an

opportunity for students to communicate in writing with other students or with teachers.
Small pi geonholes at the back of the room were labeled with students’ names. A student
could write a note to another student or a teacher and place the note in that student’s, or
teacher’s, pi geonhole, where it would be retrieved, read, and possibly responded to. The
teachers described the opportunity in this way: “If a child has a specific question, they want

to talk to a specific teacher, at any time they can put a note in there, or to someone else

.. .they write to each other all the time” (interview).

Over time, students came to understand the necessity for dialogue implied by the
nailboxes. Angie related an incident where a student “wrote me a note saying ‘I haven’t
:otten any mail yet.’ So I wrote, ‘Did you write to anybody?’...I was encouraging him,

ou gotta write to some people, then maybe they’ll write back” (interview). Angie’s

170

 

comment also underscored her expectation of student agency in the interaction. What made
the interaction work was the student’s action to initiate the dialogue.

Comments from teacher interviews underscored that, in this classroom, response
journals and mailboxes strengthened group cohesion by mediating relationships with peers
(“We had this influx of lots of new students with this core group of old kids, and they
immediately were talking back and fort ”) and teachers (“I’m talking about what I’m doing
over the weekend and what my son does, my husband went fishing, or whatever, and
they’re telling me what their dad [did]”). For Marta, a special education student, mailboxes
afforded a kind of voice when verbal expression was difficult or inappropriate. In fact, one
day her written voice got her into trouble when she was caught writing to one of the
teachers instead of completing her assigned work.

Rhonda and Angie’s attention to both individual progress and social engagement during
writing activities typified their general instructional orientation. They saw the primary
purpose of learning to write as based in community. Thus, writing was communication. In
their classroom, writing instruction, and all classroom activity, was based on a belief in the
value of social cohesion and mutual responsibility. As they noted in an interview,
“Definitely, everything we do is building community.” One community-building ingredient
was communication, and writing was key to communicating with other individuals in the
community. They hoped students would “want to sit down with a pencil and paper and

communicate with someone and be effective in that communication” (interview).

2 - .z" ‘10-.‘01'1ohlil Ir11n.:-.I IIversain

u. 0 II '
We turn now to the examination of a pivotal literacy activity in the Watkins inclusion

classroom, Morning Message. Because Morning Message, as practiced by these and other
teachers in the Learning Environments for Accelerated Progress (LEAP) Project, has been
:xtensively researched (Mariage, 1996), I provide only a brief description of the activity

ere. Morning Message was a whole-group activity of the type which Vaughn and

chumm (1996) might term a "multilevel instructional activity." Students dictated text while

171

a teacher recorded the oral text verbatim (i.e., replete with grammatical errors), and

omitting the conventions that transform oral text into written text (i.e., capitalization,
punctuation). A student was selected to assume the role of “author” of the text, which was
often in the narrative genre. The author was responsible for composing text, for calling on
any and all other members of the class (who constituted the immediate audience, as

opposed to the eventual audience—the parents--who saw the text in final draft form as

printed in the class newsletter) for content and editorial suggestions, and making decisions
regarding topic and supporting text, as well as settling any controversies which might arise
regarding interpretation or what text to include. The teacher’s activity was to record the
emerging narrative on chart paper large enough for all to see, make revisions as suggested
by the author and/or the audience, submit all appropriate decisions to the authority of the
author, and provide appropriate prompts for audience and author. Ofien the demands of
producing actual text are so great for students with language learning disabilities that they
cannot attend to all of the requirements for writing text at once (Englert, Berry, &
Dunsmore, 2001). However, when someone else writes the text and assumes the
responsibilities of getting the text down on paper, students can shift their attention to other
elements of text production. In addition, observation of text composition activity occurring
in whole group activity provides opportunities for lower performing students to learn
composition skills. As the author and audience composed the narrative and suggest
editing/writing conventions and corrections, the teacher exploited opportunities for
introducing new skills, maintaining a careful balance between allowing student authority

over the text and directing learning, as well as carefully scaffolding children who might

have difficulty with normal classroom social interactions (Cooper & Valli, 1996).
Si . 5 El 1 . l 1
Morning Message was included in this investigation of writing instruction because its

practices provided a model for other writing and collaborative classroom activities.

Morning Message was a literacy activity with a long history in this classroom community,

172

 

 

 

and a large influence in current literacy activities (Mari age, 1996). Angie and Rhonda
considered Moming Message to be foundational for other writing activities for two

reasons. First, it was a site where many writing dispositions, skills, and conventions were
first introduced and later reviewed. As such, it provided a standard by which other text
construction was measured. Skills first encountered in a Morning Message activity could be
appropriated for later use during independent text construction in some other activity.

Second, social norms established for Morning Message reflected the social behaviors
and interactions between teachers and students that Angie and Rhonda hoped would
characterize their classroom. The teacher role during Morning Message involved enabling
students to be autonomous in the activity as much as possible by “pull[ing] yourself back
from that situation...allowing the children to take over...that’s the hard thing to do”

(teacher interview from previous year).

The influence of these goals and expectations was illustrated by Rhonda during a
writing activity described later in this chapter, the persuasive essay episode of Writing
Workshop. At one point she commented to the class,“1’m kind of helping you out here,
because of time, a little more than I would normally do.” By making this comment, Rhonda
publicly noted that her explicit guidance of text construction in that particular writing
episode was contrary to norms established during Morning Message which required the
teacher to act more as traffic cop directing verbal traffic than as architect of the written text.

In addition to encouraging shared responsibility for instructional processes and
outcomes, social norms included participation in the classroom community in other ways.
Morning Message often served as an entry point into the literacy discourse of the classroom
for students who were low performers. All students were encouraged to participate at
whatever level was appropriate for their skills. For example, students with low writing or
reading skills might be able to join in with, or even request, a rereading of the text, an
action in which everyone could participate as the teacher pointed to each word while she

and the students reread the text. Another typical contribution of low performing students

173

 

was to suggest a period at the end of a sentence. Students with more developed skills might
address more complex issues, such as coherence, even to the point of moving text from

one location to another. Rhonda described participation through finding entry points into

the discourse of Morning Message.

And even Morning Message the other day, we tried a little new thing where we said,
we’re going to see if everyone can participate today...(Ned) made sure everyone in his
group got their hand up. Of course, he’s telling them what to say and what to correct,
but still,...at least the participation part was there, and that they saw, “Oh, I can say
something and the teacher’s going to make a correction,” even though, you know, it
was told for them to say. Still, it was the feeling of, “I have the power to do that if I

participate.” That was neat to see happen. (interview)

Thus, participation was expected, whether or not the contribution was one’s own.
Another social practice established during Morning Message allowed students final
authority over the construction and editing of the text of the message. With the teacher’s
duties being chiefly that of scribe, students had a large space in which to operate, selecting
content and then editing it for conventions and sense. In this way students were
empowered as decision makers whose contributions shaped both the oral discussion and
the written text (Nystrand, 1995).

The discussion below of a Morning Message observed in April of the study year refers
to two task structures (Erickson, 1996)--subject matter task structure (SMTS) and social
participation task structure (SPTS)--to illustrate opportunities for learning to write afforded
by the Morning Message activity. Subject matter task structure included attention to sense

making and use of writing conventions and will be addressed in this section of the chapter.

Social participation will be addressed in the final section of the chapter.

0_ ‘ ,0. O A .111

IS‘. '-.-II 9 -I'.100_IOI _. Inc.

M on 'I 9 u ‘
In this section I describe how students were guided to think about two facets of writing

ense making critical for audience understanding and appropriate use of writing

onventi ons.

WM Authors must ensure that their text makes sense to a reader

audience; however, students with learning disabilities often have difficulty with this in

174

 

their written work (Vaughn, Bos, & Schumm, 2000). In this Morning Message episode,
strategies related to sense making included selection of genré, clarification of meaning,

rereading to see whether it makes sense, and decisions about what fits best.

Kevin, a general education student, was the author for this Morning Message, and he

selected his upcoming soccer game as the topic. Now, selection of topic does not
predeterrnine selection of genre, and selection of genre in this particular event was more
controversial than one might suppose. Since Angie and Rhonda were trying to integrate a
wider variety of genre's into their writing program, they defined the selection of genres
students could use in both Morning Message and Writing Workshop. Morning Message
was typically a personal narrative, but at this point late in the school year students were also

allowed to choose realistic fiction. This was a popular choice, at least for several of the

boys, but the risk was that their stories would overbalance realism with fiction. In the

following segment, Kevin exercised his author’s prerogative to select the genre of the

message.

Paul: You could put something that could be realistic fiction. You could put “Kevin
went to his soccer game last night at 6:30 and and when he kicked the ball it was

stuck to the ground and you could put and then he kicked it really hard and it
opened up and a bunch of elephants and alligators came out and [inaudible].”
Maybe before he answers that, it might be good for Kevin to decide what genré

this is going to be.

K: Realistic fiction.

T: This is going to be realistic fiction [writes reelistie fietj en on the board], and since
we’ve discussed this several times, you need to remember that that word [points
to the word, [eahstie] is there. Realistic. So we’re going to avoid elephants and
alligators and things. So realistic fiction. This is about a soccer game...Is it
realistic to have elephants and whatever else inside a soccer ball?

Somebody could have buried them with lots of food and water and then they
could still be alive and they could come out of the ground.

Yeah, I’m going to make a teacher decision here, and I’m going to tell you this as
much as you might want to argue this, elephants and things could not be buried
under the ground for a thousand years with water and stuff and then come out
when you dig it up, so that would not be realistic. We have to become more
realistic to have realistic fiction, and save that for the fantasy world.

Angie was the scribe and teacher-in-charge, and no surprise to her (“since we’ve

discussed this several times”), Paul and Kevin suggested a fantastical story that went

175

 

 

beyond the bounds for realistic fiction. Angie’s response,“1’m going to make a teacher
decision here,” both signaled her intention to be directive and denoted her departure from
established norms for teacher behavior that required teachers to comment rather than make
decisions. As it turned out, the message ultimately became more of a personal narrative

than an example of realistic fiction.

Angie’s comment, “It might be good for Kevin to decide what genré this is,” reinforced
Kevin as leader and chief meaning-maker for this lesson. In this classroom, students were
often positioned in roles requiring them to make decisions about the lesson for the entire
class. Typically considered to be a teacher prerogative, placing students in authoritative
positions was intentional on the part of these teachers. This expectation of autonomy
afforded students in this classroom the notion that authority and privilege were not unique
to teachers, and that authority could be shared among all community members.

Relative to sense making, authors need to check for coherence, and several times
during the episode Angie encouraged students to attend to coherence. She interpreted
Kevin’s action at a decision-making point: “Okay, I hope you are listening to what he is
trying to decide. He wants to put, ‘Kevin is good at defense,’ and he’s trying to decide
where it fits best in what we wrote.” She modeled checking for sense-making when a
student questioned the text: “Let’s check it. ...That’s a good habit to get into, to check
things.” She implied attention to sense making as an appropriate final step in composition
“Okay. We’re starting to run out of time, so we’ve really got to start looking at whether this
makes good sense and it’s good writing.”

Coherence was also at issue as students struggled with when to use Kevin’s name and
when to use the referent pronoun, him. Personal narratives typically use the pronoun “I” as
a subject; however, the students had learned that the reader might not know who “I” was.
Accordingly, in Morning Messages all first person referents were changed to the name of
the author. Thus, a sentence offered by the author, “I played in a soccer game,” became,

when written and edited, “Kevin played in a soccer game.” This was one of the routine

176

editorial changes even lower performing students learned to make. However, the students

had also learned that overuse of the author’s name became redundant. Consequently, the
class had developed over time a rule that the proper name and the referent pronoun should

be alternated. On this occasion, the rule was invoked more than once.
S: Put he instead of Karin.
T: He. Because we alternate them, don’t we? If they both start with Kevin, then it’s
kind of boring. So we alternate. Very good.
S: Keyin has to be ahe.
T: (Checking) Oh, yeah, we alternate. Keyin he Kevin he.
Kevin wants to work with the Kevin he Kevin he sequence.

T: I’m really confused.
Tworks with Kevin to clarifii.

The first time the question about the noun-pronoun sequence arose, Angie noted aloud
the reason why “we” need to alternate the noun and the pronoun: “If they [the two
sentences in question] both start with ‘Kevin,’ then it’s kind of boring.” Stating the rule
aloud was a scaffolding move that provided students with task directive language which
might facilitate a shift from comprehender to producer (Biemiller & Meichenbaum, 1998).
The second time a student invoked the rule, Angie stated it in an abbreviated form: “We
alternate.” After that, the text became so complex with changes and editing that invocations

of the rule necessitated rereading to note the pattern so that the appropriate sequencing

could be applied.
Angie’s comment, “I’m really confused,” reinforced the notion of distributed expertise

in the classroom. In this classroom, teachers, as well as students, could be puzzled
participants who lacked understanding. Here the teacher worked with a student, not with
the object of obtaining clarification for the student, but rather for the teacher, turning the
customary teacher-student relationship on its metaphorical head. This role exchange

afforded students the premise that knowledge was distributed among all members of a
collective rather than residing exclusively with the teachers, a corollary of which was the

notion that students, as well as teachers, could be positioned as informants and experts in

177

enhancing understanding (Gutierrez & Stone, 1997).

Eating eenyentiens, Morning Message provided a format for composition skills and

writing conventions. Composition skills addressed in this Morning Message included

adding a conclusion sentence, writing concise text, and using interesting words, as well as

spelling, capitalization, and punctuation. In the following transcribed segment, Angie noted

a possible conclusion sentence.

T: Doesn’t it sound like a good conclusion sentence,“He had a fun time.” Put that at

the end? So let’s take this whole sentence.

With Kevin’s approval, she moved the sentence to the end. In the next section, Angie

suggested that students need to attend to overused words.

T:
S:
T:

There are two words that are overused in here.
At.

Well, I was thinking that the word “fun” and the word “good” are two words we
overuse. Can we think of another word to use instead of “fun” to make it more
interesting?

S suggests “great. ” Angie makes the change.

And what about “good”? We use “good” way too much when we write, so we’re

always trying to think of more interesting words.
S suggests “wonderfiil. ”

Kevin is wonderful at defense in soccer.
Tconsults with Kevin and makes the change.
S suggests “skillfiil. ”

This is what I want you to be sure and do when you write. Read over what you

write, and look for words that maybe get used too much, and try and find words
that are more interesting or more give you a better picture.

After Angie directed students’ attention to the problem of overused words, they thought

of several words to take the place of “good.” Again, Angie helped student to think

metacognitively in modeling task directive language: “Look for words that get used too

much and try and find words that are more interesting.”

In the next segment of transcript, Paul, a student in the “audience,” struggled with

coherence and sentence fluency as he tried to edit the topic sentence.

Paul: Also the first one [sentence] is sort of long and confusing. (Tand Paul reread the

Fr-JFrTi

first sentence: “Kevin already has his soccer game last Tuesday night at 6 :3 0. ")
Well, that’s the one that Kevin really liked, and then we took this “soccer” out.

It puts in too much information in the beginning.
Well...

Telling specifically that with doing that it makes it too long.

178

T: What do you think, Kevin?
Kevin wants to leave it.
Okay. ...One of the rules that they try and teach you when you have a writing

class is that you should try to shorten your writing and make it more concise, so
it’s up to Kevin, but...I don’t think “Kevin already has his soccer game last
Tuesday night at 6:30,” I’m not sure that’s too long, too much information, but
Kevin, I’m going to let you make the final decision, because that’s kind of a

judgement call.

Angie thought the sentence could be left as it was (“I’m not sure that’s too long, too

T:

much infomration”), but she stated a possible reason for Paul’s request to shorten it: “One
of the rules that they try and teach you when you have a writing class is that you should try
to shorten your writing and make it more concise.” She left the decision to Kevin (“That’s
kind of a judgement call”), who decided to leave the sentence the way it was, possibly due
to the preference Angie had verbalized.

This exchange among Paul, Kevin, and Angie illustrated the interactional norms and
assumptions of this classroom which afforded students opportunities for stepping into
authoritative and consequential positions often reserved by teachers for themselves. In this
exchange, Angie emphasized the nature of the knowledge and the premises upon which the

knowledge was based, rather than on one correct interpretation (hers). By so doing, she
was able to remove herself as final authority and to represent knowledge as contestable and
open to varying interpretations guided by acknowledged rules of composition (“One of the
rules that they try and teach you when you have a writing class...”). A corollary to the
“knowledge is contestable” postulate was “anyone can contest it.” Thus, the teacher-
student-knowl edge relationship was experienced as indeterminate, in that knowledge was
contestabl e rather than determined, and could be contested by both student and teacher,
rather than defined by the teacher for student consumption. Students were afforded
)pportunities for active participation in the representation of knowledge.
Students were expected and encouraged to recognize the need for and correct use of
rnctuation in the text they were jointly constructing. Additionally, when students added

nctuation to the text, the teacher routinely queried the participant about the reason for its

179

use.
01: Apostrophe.

T: Why?
Students came to anticipate the teacher’s “why?” Later, when Diane suggested another

exclamatron mark she added, without prompting, a reason for its approprrateness “Srnce

he was excrted Students’ anticipation of the need to provide a reasoned explanation

demonstrated their appr0priation of a discourse move defining thrs type of classroom

1nteract10n as well as demonstrated the distributed nature of knowledge In the classroom

students as well as teachers could provide reasoned explanations for wr1tmg conventions
Momrng Message also provided an opportunity to address grammatical 1ssues Bethany

suggested a text change from present to past tense. In this case, the teacher supported

Bethany’s suggestion by explaining the reason for the change 1n tense

Bethany: He HAD a soccer game
Oh, very good. That’s the tense. We said “Kevin already had,” meanrng 1t

T.
already past, so we call it past tense. Then we can’t say “he has,” because
that s present We have to change it to “he had.” It has to stay tlie same all the

way through.
Spellrng, punctuation and capitalization were also addressed during Momrng Message
lessons In the next segment, a student noted that the word, Tuesday ” required

capitalization. Angie responded with a formularc, “Whyv”

C: Tuesday needs to be capitalized.

T: Because?

It’s a

It’s a

Proper noun.

Good. It’s a proper noun.

Angre and Rhonda felt that students learned best when students verbalrzed and

fiQHo

=xp1arned reasons for writing conventions. Public explanations also provrded opportun1t1es

or other students to gain this knowledge as well. In addition to enablrng students

Jestr onrn g them was a way for teachers to check on their understanding and knowledge

The following segment of the Morning Message lesson illustrates a punctuatron

ment, and also demonstrates how new students enter into the d1scourse and how lower

180

performing students were afforded opportunities for participation. Marta, a student with
learning disabilities, was the recorder during this lesson. Her job was to put a check next to
students’ names on a list as they spoke during the lesson. At one point, Kevin, acting on
the agency allowed the author of Morning Message, asked Marta to read the names of

students whose names had not yet been checked off, because Angie was urging him to call

on students who had not yet been called upon. This episode began when Angie prompted

the class to ask the question words they had learned to use.

There are question words that I was hoping to hear, and I’ve heard some. What

are our question words? Just call them out.
Ss call out randomly: who, what, where, when, why, how.

Twrites these on the board
If you’re stuck and you can’t think of something to ask, you can use one of

those questions words to ask some questions.

K: You could call off the names.
Marta, with the help of Kevin and Angie, reads the names of students who have

not yet participated

Marta: Milo [a new student] is not here.

Angie: Yes, he is. He’s very quiet over here. He hasn’t raised his hand yet, but I’m
sure he will. Okay, we’re waiting for questions, suggestions, comments. If

there’s someone [who is raising their hand] who hasn’t been called on, you

need to call on them.
Kevin: Mark?
Mark: Where did you go and play soccer?
At Grandview. We could write that. “Kevin has a soccer game at Grandview.”

Kevin:
Tgives Mark a thumbs up, then writes Kevin ’s sentence on the paper.
T writing: “Kevin has a soccer game at Grandview. ”

K: Milo.

M It needs a period.

T: Very good. Another period.

In this segment, Angie created discursive spaces which later became occupied by

T:

students with special learning needs. At the beginning of this segment, Angie asked
students to list the “question words” typically used by the class to generate information for
a narrative. A short time later, Mark, a special education student, used one of the question
words, “where,” to ask a question that generated important information regarding the
retting of the narrative. Milo, the new student, had at this point in the lesson not yet
articipated, but Angie created a potential discursive space for him to do so when she stated

er expectation that he would soon. Only three turns later Milo, having been positioned by

181

Angie as a potential participant in the discussion, entered the discourse with his

contribution of “It needs a period.” In so doing, Milo appropriated a discourse move used

earlier in the lesson by another student. In this way, Milo’s participation in the discourse
began to be transformed from a participation of observation to a more active role in the

conversation, simultaneously transforming the discourse as his contribution was necessary

to the correct editing of the written text.
Morning Message was also a venue for teaching parts of speech. In the following

excerpt, extending a sentence with the conjunction “and” provided Angie with the

opportunity to note the use and terminology for the conjunction.

T: What do we call words that we use to connect sentences? What do we call those

words that connect different parts of a sentence?
She looks in a handy grammar guide for the information.

Tim: Conjunctions.

T: Very good. I had to look it up because I wasn’t sure. This is why we ordered this
little thing because there’s lots of times we don’t know the answer and the
answers are in here. Conjunctions. “A conjunction is a word that connects or
joins words, phrases, or clauses.” There’s different kinds. There’s” and,” “or,”

“because,” “since,” “until.

Each time an element of grammar was dealt with, Angie added it a list on the

chalkboard next to the Morning Message text. At the conclusion of the lesson, the list
” “past tense,” and “conjunctions.”

” 6‘

included: “proper noun,” “apostrophe , possessive,
Each of these had come up during the lesson, and each time Angie asked students to name
the element before recording it on the chalk board. In this way she provided precise

terminology to identify elements of written expression. Knowing the terminology enhanced

students’ membership in the literacy community of this classroom.

i

11 ° ’

We have seen how Angie used her teacher role to make visible for students elements of
ritten language that came up during the lesson. She did not plan to teach these particular
3m ents in this particular lesson; rather, she used her knowledge of language and

nposition to highlight and name practices the students used. Transcribed talk

roundin g these actions may make it appear that Angie was quite directive during this

182

Morning Message. The following conversation from the same Morning Message is

included to illustrate how Angie assumed the role of conduit, a role she occupied for most
of the lesson, allowing students to construct and shape the text through her. I have divided
this part of the Morning Message into six chunks, each chunk differentiated by an issue or
activity with which the teachers and students are dealing. All six chunks were sequential in
time, each followed immediately by the next chunk. For example, the first chunk, which
ends, “Kevin, you gotta call on some new people, because all these new people want to
participate,” was followed by Kevin calling on Jack, “Jack.” My division of the text at that

point was for analytical purposes.
The written text as it stood at the onset of this part of the conversation was, “Kevin is

going to a soccer game tonight at 6:30.”

£11er #1 ', Making the eyent pest tense
Interpretation

Transcript
Angie prompts Kevin to respond to Paul’s

T: Did you want to go with Paul’s first
idea that this is a game that’s already suggestron.

happened?

K: Well, yeah, because we’re gonna
[inaudible] this [inaudible] weekend

Kevin suggests a change.

T: So you want to change this to say this Angie revoices and confirms Kevin’s
has already happened. What do we need to decision. She prompts the editing change.

change in here so it says that this has
already happened, not it’s going to.

K: It already has happened.
T: You want to leave his here? “Kevin T writes “Kevin already had.”
She checks with Kevin for the correct

already had his soccer game.”
wording.

K: How about Tuesday night. Kevin adds a word to describe the setting.
Angie makes the change, then prompts

T: Okay. Tuesday. “Tuesday night at
Kevin to call on more people.

6:30.” Look around, Kevin, you gotta call
on some new people, because all these
new people want to participate.

Paul had suggested that the subject should be a soccer game that had already been held

Recall that this is realistic fiction; thus, fact need not match reality exactly. Angie asked

183

Kevin what he wanted to do. In this way she supported Kevin’s authorial prerogative to
control the content of the text. She also created an opportunity for peer alignment or
opposition (O’Connor & Michaels, 1993) when she asked Kevin, “Did you want to go
with Paul’s first idea...,” thus recognizing both speakers as capable of taking positions.
Kevin decided to accept Paul’s suggestion, whereupon Angie, as scribe, substituted
“already had his” for “is going to a” and “Tuesday night” for “tonight” in the sentence. As
she did so, she made her thoughts public,“What we need to do...” By thinking aloud,
Angie provided resources for students to draw on when editing text. The text was then,
“Kevin already had his soccer game Tuesday night at 6:30.” Angie’s role in this exchange
was to prompt Kevin to respond to Paul, revoice for clarity, pose the problem (“we need to
change it in here”), and to make the changes suggested by Kevin in the material text. She
also projected her social goal for the students, participation, onto them, making it their

social goal, “All these new people want to participate.”

In the next segment, Jack added a needed period, and Diane attempted to clarify the

 

 

sentence.
Chunks #2 and #3 ; Egnemetien, elerifieetien

Transcript Interpretation
Kevin: Jack. Kevin calls on a student.

I: Period after 6:30. lack suggests a period.

T: Why? Angie probes for understanding, and
adds the period.

I: Because it’s the end of a sentence.
K: Diane. Kevin calls on a student.
D: It says already his game on Tuesday, but he
said already.

Diane works with sense making.

T: What would you do? Read it to us. Angie calls for a rereading, a familiar
move.

D: Kevin already had his soccer game Tuesday Diane rereads and suggests a change.

right at 6:30. But it should be [inaudible]

 

184

 

 

Chunks #2 and #3 cont’d.

Transcript Interpretation

T: Ohhh.

K: Yeah, but it’s at night. Kevin responds.

D: 6:30 [inaudible]

T: So are you referring to a game that was, Angie clarifies with the author.

already happened last Tuesday?
K: Yeah.

T: [to Diane] Does that make that more clear?
Good question, Diane.

Angie confirms the clarification with
the questioner.

T whispers to Kevin: You gotta call on someone
[inaudible].

This interaction around text construction involved Diane’s struggle with the production
of a clear sentence, which involved changing the tense from present to past. Angie seemed
to be confused about Diane’s question, and to clarify the situation, she turned it back to
Diane, “What would you do?” Kevin and Diane interacted, Angie revoiced, and checked
for clarification. At no point did Angie either suggest a solution or veto someone else’s
suggestion. Her role was the conduit. To employ another metaphor, she handled challenges
and suggestions by positioning herself as a billboard: “Okay, here’s what’s on the table.
The matter is open for discussion.” Again, knowledge was contestable by any member of

the group.
In the next section, Arnold continued to work with the same sentence.

Chunk #4: Adding more clarification
Interpretation

Transcript

 

K: Arnold. Kevin calls on a student.

A: Instead of just being a plain Tuesday, they
might think it’s like today or something, then it
should say um last it should be Kevin had
already gone Kevin already had his soccer

game.

Arnold addresses audience sense.

Danny: Last Tuesday. Danny suggests appropriate wording.

185

Chunk #4 cont’d.
Transcript Interpretation

Arnold: Last Tuesday night at 6:30. Arnold incorporates Danny’s
suggestion into his own.

Arnold suggested more clarification by adding a word, “last,” to the text. The text was
now, “Kevin already had his soccer game last Tuesday night at 6:3 0.” Angie’s move here
was to add the word to the sentence. This was the topic sentence that was retained in the
final version of the message. Note that this was an unsupported conversation among
students; there was no teacher prompt. The students were in control of the conversation,
acting agentively to construct text, select speakers, share new ideas, and appropriate one

another’s suggestions.

The next segment is procedural rather than topical. Jessie, a low performing student,

called for a rereading of the text.

Chunk #5: Rereading the text

 

 

Transcript Interpretation
T: Make sure you call on everybody. Lots of Angie prompts Kevin to call on
people that [inaudible] someone.
K: Jessie.
J: Because Jessie seems at a loss for words.
T: Because Angie prompts Jessie.
T and Ss read the first sentence: Kevin Angie and students reread.
already had his soccer game last Tuesday
night at 6:30.
T: Call on new people. Quickly. Angie again prompts Kevin.

 

The only evaluation of Jessie’s suggestion offered by the teacher was one of the highest
forms of evaluation, that is, accepting her suggestion and acting on it (Nystrand &
Gamoran, 1991). In this way, Angie positioned Jessie as influential in the community,
because, in this instance, what she said was acted upon. While Jessie did not contribute to

the content of the sentence, her suggestion was valuable in invoking the procedural rules of

186

this particular task.
To illustrate the distribution of expertise in this lesson, it should be pointed out that

neither Jack nor Jessie were students with special needs. The reader might have assumed
that they were, because their contributions to the conversation during this section of the
lesson consisted of adding a period and calling for a rereading of the text, both moves often
used by lower performing students. Thus, it can be assumed that specific discourse moves,
although often used by lower performing students, were not reserved exclusively for them.

In other words, student participation in the conversation was not “tracked” by type of

contribution encouraged or allowed.
In addition to the previous exchange, there were several points in the Morning Message

lesson where negotiation of meaning with respect to the construction of the topic sentence

might have concluded; however, students continued to challenge the text and offer

suggestions.

gghgnk #6 ,' Mere elgrifieeg'gn of megingE
Interpretation

Transcript
Kevin calls on Ryan.

 

Kevin: Ryan?

Ryan: Urn, last Tuesday night isn’t going to make sense Ryan continues to address
because it’s [parent newsletter] gonna come out this audience sense.

Friday, so if it’s last Tuesday, it would be last last
Tuesday, so it wouldn’t be this game tonight, it would
be last week Tuesday.

Angie uses the text as

T: But there’s something up here that clarifies that. Do
you see what’s up here that would clarify that for the resource to clarify.

reader?
R: No.

K: [inaudible]

T: And the date. So they know we’re writing it today,
and they’re gonna know it was the last Tuesday.

R: Yeah but we, my idea is you could put Kevin had Ryan makes a suggestion.
because already had his soccer game sounds like you’re
just saying Kevin already had a soccer game and
[inaudible], I know you didn’t put that, but it should be
“Kevin had a soccer game last Tuesday night at 6:30.”

187

Chunk #6 cont’d.

T looks at Kevin.
Kevin decides to leave it as it

K: Leave it.
i s.

T: Leave it? Okay, but that’s good. [To Marta] Did you
get Ryan down?
The discussion of the topic sentence might have ended with the rereading, but Ryan

wanted one more opportunity to deal with the meaning. He took the point of view of the
distant audience, the parents who would be reading this account in the class newsletter,
trying to anticipate what sense they might make of the time frame. He suggested a good
sentence, “Kevin had a soccer game last Tuesday night at 6:30.” Angie might have accepted
this as improved text; however, with a glance she turned the decision back to Kevin, who
decided to keep the sentence as it was. Angie attempted to deal with Ryan’s question by

referring him to the text. By so doing, she might have closed the issue, but in this

classroom, teachers did not always have the last word, and so Ryan continued to pursue

his idea. Kevin, as official author, had the last word.

One more adjustment needed to be made to the topic sentence.

 

Chunk #7: Finishing the sentence by adding a capital letter.
Transcript Interpretation

 

K: Cassie?
C: Tuesday needs to be capitalized. Suggests a capital letter.
Angie probes for understanding and

T: Because?
to make this thinking visible for all.
C: It’s a
T: It’s
Grammar item.

C: Proper noun.

T: Good. It’s a proper noun.

With the addition of a capital letter to the word “Tuesday,” the topic sentence finally

came to resolution. Angie functioned here in her role of literacy broker by asking Cassie to

188

state the reason for the capital letter, thus making visible to all this particular writing
convention. To make it even more visible, she added “proper noun” to the list of grammar
elements she recorded on the chalkboard as they arose during the lesson. Why had Angie

not capitalized “Tuesday” at first? First, when the teachers recorded students’ talk, they
wrote it without adding writing conventions. Second, teachers trusted students to identify
when conventions were required. Had Cassie not suggested capitalizing “Tuesday,” Angie
might have provided a direct prompt before the end of the entire lesson, but she did not
rush to do so. When Cassie suggested the change, Angie’s prompt of “because” allowed
Cassie to take the teacher role in explaining the reason for the change, and also provided an

opportunity for other students to access Cassie’s thinking as to why the capital letter was

needed.

flfeaehet ’1 all; in the Merging Message Lessee

In this Morning Message episode, Angie spoke often, but only about 50% of the total
talk during the lesson was teacher talk, a low percentage for the average classroom
(Edwards & Mercer, 1987). In fact, the actual percentage might be a bit lower, because
several student utterances were inaudible on the videotape and so were not counted.

Angie’s utterances were sorted into categories and percentages of words belonging to the

various categories were computed (see Table 9).

 

 

Table 9
T n P r 11 Te her’ 1k Durin M rnin Messa
Type of talk Percentage of talk
Questions 19%
Literacy content 38%
Morning Message procedure 3 5%
Other 4%

 

Quickly glanced over, much of the dialogue in the transcript might appear to consist of
the triadic I-R-E sequence (Mehan, 1979). Indeed, 19% of Angie’s talk was contained in

questions. However, 61% of her questions were turning back moves, referring an issue

189

back to students for problem solving and decision making. Typical of such questions were:
“What do you want?” “What do you want to say?” What would you do?” “Suggestion?”
“You want me to write that?” “You want me to put that in there?” In this way, Angie used

questions to transfer control of the conversation to students.

Over 70% of her talk addressed literacy content and Morning Message task structure.
Literacy elements dealt with included genre, tense, proper nouns, punctuation,
possessives, sense making, spelling, conjunctions, concise writing, and word choice.
Morning Message task structure included rereading, using the “W” question words,
alternating proper names and referent pronouns, and suggesting changes to the text. Almost
all of these elements received extra focus through Angie’s comments, either by asking
students why they suggested a period or capital letter, or by providing the information
herself, as in “That’s the tense...It’s already past, so we call it past tense.” In this way,

Angie embedded a large amount of grammar and other writing skills instruction in the

context of constructing a realistic fiction.
Often this embedding of writing instruction provided immediate results later in the same

lesson. At one point when the audience contribution and questions slowed down, Angie
reminded students of “our” question words (implying joint ownership, prior knowledge,
and use of the practice) and suggested that students could use the question words to think
of additional questions to ask the author of the Morning Message. Five speaking turns
later, Mark, a special education student, used a question word to ask a question, “Where
did you go and play soccer?” In another example, after the “Kevin-he-Kevin-he” question
arose the first time, students focused attention on this issue several additional times during
the lesson. For instance, Dustin, a special education target student, called for a check on
this sequence. Had Angie not made these practices visible and available for anyone to
appropriate, Mark and Dustin might have had limited access to this writing activity. Angie
and Rhonda had not planned these experiences for the two boys and might not have

predicted that these would be the skills the boys would deal with on that day, but because

190

of the wide bandwidth (Brown & Reeve, 1987) of opportunity available in this lesson,
these students, and all of the students, were able to select items from the “menu” of skills,
experimenting with and appropriating new skills. This was one way in which they might
push their own ZPD.

Thus, the function of Angie’s talk during the lesson was to align students with the
literacy content of the lesson and with each other as collaborators in text construction, as
well as to position students as authoritative decision makers with respect to the text
constructed. Several metaphors describe her role in the lesson. As conduit, she
redistributed students’ ideas for others to consider. As billboard, she noted what was “on
the table” and available for comment. As literacy broker, she negotiated links between
students’ prior literacy knowledge and their new learning. In this way, her discourse
moves supported the goal of empowering students to become independent learners. For
Angie and Rhonda, this meant that students should gain literacy content and metacognitive

skills related to writing and collaborative interaction necessary for community membership,

both in the local classroom community and in their future lives.
Writing Werkshep; Bnilding F ennel Writing Skills
Writing Workshop was a site for a variety of types of writing experiences, of which

process writing (Calkins, 1986) was one. During the Writing Workshop time slot, students
also did theme writing (connected with science and social studies curriculum) and other
genre’ writing such as character study, poetry, realistic fiction, critiques, tall tales,
explanation, persuasive essay, and report writing. Study of these particular genrés was
required by the new state curriculum standards and benchmarks, illustrating how teachers
autonomy is always delimited by larger systems. However, Angie and Rhonda also
believed in the importance of skilled writing in a variety of genres. Thus, writing
assignments in Writing Workshop were divided over the course of the year between
focusing on the structure and characteristics of these genre's and more open-ended

“traditional Writing Workshop where they make their own choices” (teacher interview).

191

i ' rk
Typical of the nature of teacher-student relationships in this classroom, Angie and
Rhonda shared responsibility for writing instruction with their students. Although the
sequence of writing activity generally followed a plan-write-revi se—edit-publish pattern,
they emphasized that Writing Workshop rules were decided by students rather than
teachers. To develop the rules which guided their writing, students and teachers
brainstormed about

what should we be doing, what would make good quality text, what should we do

when we are editing....A lot of the stuff we do, we try and make sure the class is

making this decision, that this would make quality writing. (interview)

Angie and Rhonda understood their role in the Writing Workshop as one of responding
individually to and pushing the development of each child, whether or not the child was
identified as having a disability. At any one time, different children might be working on
different writing skills, such as self-editing, story structure, writing conventions, or text
organization (beginning, middle, end). Each child was held to his or her own individual
trajectory of improvement. Not only were there no universal academic objectives in Writing
Workshop, the diversity of developmental trajectories due to the wide range of ages present
in the community was enormous (Cooper & Valli, 1996).

The on-going and on-line assessment of the progress of so many students was
complex. Angie and Rhonda found that knowing at any moment the exact point of
development for each student, deciding where to push students for their further

development, and having a sense of the scope and sequence of possible writing knowledge
in order to make on-the-spot decisions was an enormous task. They wistfully imagined a

material support to mediate this task:

A single sheet for this level and this level, some kind of idea where they’re at and to
know what are we working on, where are we going with them, because I think it’s
really hard sometimes to come up with what’s going on right there on the moment.
If I knew what I really needed, instead of saying, “What are you working on today?
How’s it going?” I could say, “We haven’t talked about this” (interview).

Student roles in Writing Workshop varied. Students were allowed to seek support from

192

and encouraged to share expertise with other students in ad hoc tutor-tutee configurations:
“They can talk to others. With a multi-age room, they’re all mixed up together, and they
can talk. We encourage them. ...They can get help with [spelling] in their group”
(interview). Students were also encouraged to establish collaborative writing relationships

for the purpose of co-authoring texts. Angie and Rhonda encouraged students to

experiment with both individual and collaborative writing.

Socially, Angie and Rhonda saw Writing Workshop as a site for building community.

They noticed that when students worked together, good things happened:

It kind of happened by accident in Writing Workshop that we noticed that children that
would never play together, that would probably hardly ever speak to each other,

suddenly were choosing each other to write together. Very strange partnerships.

...Now [that] we’ve seen it happen, it’s a goal...to encourage that kind of thing to

happen again, to choose different people at different times to work with. (interview)

This chapter illustrates two types of Writing Workshop: the “regular” (teachers’s term,
transcript) process writing approach where students choose their own topics, and

prescribed writing activity focusing on various genrés, such as the persuasive essay

episode described below.

6‘ 3’ ' ' r
“Regular” Writing workshop provided the foundation for all other Writing Workshop

activities. It was the default structure for Writing Workshop in the absence of special

writing emphases. In this section I describe regular Writing Workshop practice in general

and specifically as illustrated by Marta’s participation.

WWW Angie and Rhonda typically

began“regular” Writing Workshop sessions by reviewing Writing Workshop guidelines

We’re going to do “regular” Writing Workshop.

T:

SS cheer.
T: We only did this once last week.

SS begin to be noisy as they get into their desks to find their notebooks.
T Wait. What’s the first thing you do, Ned?

ed: [inaudible]
'1" You reread what you wrote last time. Then what do you do?

Diane: [inaudible]
T: Write the date where you’re going to start this time. You have to make a

193

decision, don’t you? Paul, what do you need to decide?

Paul: Whether you want to finish or [inaudible]
Okay, keep working on another story or start a new one. What are our

boundaries right now? Diane?

Diane: Realistic fiction.
Realistic fiction or you can still do n, nar, (Rhonckr provides a prompt)

Ss: Narrative.
Narrative. That means you’re writing about something that happened to you,

T: about yourself, from your point of view. Realistic fiction means you can go out
there and do a little making up, but it has to be able to really happen. Okay, go
ahead and get started. Reread. Make that decision. Get the date on there and go.

Students cheered, indicating their appreciation of and preference for the freedom of

choice reflected in the guidelines for the session. Students could decide which of three
courses to take: (a) finishing the current story, (b) keep working on it, or (c) starting a new
story. If they elected to start a new story, the choices were narrative (old, familiar genre’) or
realistic fiction (new genre).

The sequence of activity and rules that governed “regular” Writing Workshop generally
followed those commonly associated with process writing programs (Calkins, 1986): draft
peer conference, teacher conference, revise, and publish. Students were expected to make
decisions about where they were in the process, and this autonomy was underscored by the
teacher when she said,“Hold up your hand if you need a peer conference or peer editing.

Look at your story. If it’s not done, finish it. If it’s done, have a peer conference.” In
addition to decisions about process, the teachers also encouraged all students to make
decisions about skills to work on. A teacher pressed André, a student with learning
disabilities, to reflect on his personal writing needs by asking him, “Are you working on
any skill today? Particular skills? What are you trying real hard to work on? Using the lines
of the paper, maybe? Good printing? Capitals and periods?” Other students such as Arnold,
a general education student, were expected to make decisions about pacing: “Four pages,
okay. Could you finish up tomorrow then, would that be a good plan? What do you
think?” This is not to suggest that particular writing skills were reserved for certain levels

of students, but that the teachers calibrated their support to match the particular individual

needs of each student they worked with, and that the nature of participation was

194

predominantly student defined rather than teacher defined.
Students had several options for structuring relationships around writing text. They

could participate in short ad hoc consultations to, for instance, spell a word. The class rules

for spelling during most kinds of writing activities included three options: (a) try to spell it
yourself (invented spelling was encouraged), or (b) ask someone at your table, before (c)
asking a teacher. Students could also choose whether to write independently or to

collaborate with a partner over multiple writing sessions. Although they encouraged
collaboration, Angie and Rhonda admitted at the end of the year that they had been able to
structure fewer opportunities for collaboration into the Writing Workshop format than they
would have liked. They cited lack of space as the major reason for why students did not
ofien collaborate this year. Recall that, although they had two classrooms, the classrooms
were physically located far apart in the school building. Collaborative writing requires
space for students to get together and talk, perhaps finding a space on the floor to sit with
their partner and their writing materials. Angie and Rhonda’s choices were to split the class
(and the teachers), which was a threat to the collaborative teaching model they used, or to
keep everyone in one classroom, which was a threat to student collaboration due to lack of
space in which students could work. Thus, they made an effort to accommodate students

who requested to partner write within the constraints of their situation, but did not require

collaborations.

Marta’s pmigipatign in regular Wg'ting Workshop, To illustrate how regular Writing

Workshop typically worked for students with learning disabilities, I offer the example of
Marta. During regular Writing Workshop, students wrote their stories in spiral notebooks,
their primary Writing Workshop materials. Marta’s September entries included a book
summary and some jokes. Beginning in October, however, she tended to write personal

narratives. These might be about going places--to her dad’s house, to a carnival, to her
friend ’8 house, or to an amusement park--or about her dog or her cat. In the following

example written in April, Marta wrote about going to a different school next school year

195

The text of her story, written entirely during one Writing Workshop session, was: When I
git in fourth grad, I will be going to cold creek School. Cold creek is a doys and grols club
too. The cad. (When I get in fourth grade, I will be going to Cold Creek School. Cold

Creek is a boys and girl club, too. The end.) This was accompanied by a picture at the
bottom of the page depicting herself and a friend at Cold Creek School. This was one of
her shorter stories, the others being two or three times longer and generally unillustrated. I
chose to focus on the “Cold Creek School” writing episode because of the videotaped peer

interactions associated with it.
Marta’s activity during this episode was coded as occurring in several phases. The first

phase was getting to work. For Marta, this took some time, as she was involved with
cleaning out a small pencil sharpener. Based on other observations of Marta’s activity

during Writing Workshop, delaying the beginning of writing was typical for Marta.
The second type was Marta’s independent writing. Marta kept her independent writing

private, rather than sharing her progress or her thoughts. She was approached several times

by a teacher or teacher intern who attempted to initiate a conversation with Marta

concerning her writing, but with little success.

T: Can you think of something to write?

M: [no response]

4! * * It

TI: I see you’re just getting started here. What are your ideas?

M Don’t know. How do you spell “fourth”?

TI: F - o - u - r. That spells “four,” and then “the” at the end. (Looks over Marta ’s
shoulder at her writing.) Sounds like it might be real. Writing what you think will
happen in the fourth grade?

M In fourth grade, I’ll be at Cold Creek.

TI: You’ll be at Cold Creek! Really! Do you think you might be moving schools?

M (nods and resumes writing)

Marta apparently had her chosen topic in mind, but was not generous in sharing it with

teachers. She also did not readily share her thoughts and intentions with peers. Although
she allowed herself to be drawn at several points into conversations around a story which

Jenny, another low performing student was writing, Marta did not volunteer to share

information about her own story, nor did Jenny inquire about Marta’s story. Still, although

196

Marta seemed to maintain a sense of reserve, her journal did allow her to share her possible
worlds. Although Marta was private, her text offered a portal into her private thoughts.

Marta appeared to protect her text from what she might have construed as meddling.

She protected her time and attention by not responding to initiations from teachers or peers,
and, once when Jenny persisted, by saying, “No, I’m trying to write.” Marta’s protective
behaviors can be viewed as agentive action. Marta displayed reserve and a sense of private
space and activity, even distancing herself by saying, “No, I’m trying to write.”

A third phase in this writing episode entailed Marta’s involvement with Jenny’s story.
Jenny initiated all of the girls’ conversations. The exchanges focused on two areas:
meaning and spelling. Jenny’s story was about the Easter bunny and a dog. The two girls
talked about whether there really was an Easter bunny and how many there were. During
the lesson, Jenny also requested spelling assistance for “Easter bunny,” “dog,” and

“tomorrow” which Marta attempted to provide. Her spelling strategies included
conventional spelling (dog, bunny), invented spelling (e-s-t for Easter), and using alternate

words (substituting “day” for “tomorrow”). Marta seemed to accept being called upon as a

resource for Jenny, and twice walked over to Jenny’s desk to either tell her how to spell a

word or to write it for her.
It is evident that Marta both saw herself and was positioned by others as “expert” rn this

writing activity, someone able to tutor other students. Marta was able to step into this role
because she had had modeled, and was able to appropriate, several years of specifically and

reiterated modeling and instruction in the social participation structures of classroom

lessons. Because of her low reading skill, Marta, in a more traditional classroom, might not
have had the opportunity to demonstrate her literacy skills through a type of peer coaching.
A different teacher might have decided that she lacked readiness for peer coaching due to
her low performance levels in reading and writing. However, in this classroom, where
teachers responded to students’ individual needs and strengths, found entry points for all

students into the literate discourse as practiced in this classroom, and offered the necessary

I97

scaffolds to accomplish assignments, Marta was afforded the opportunity to fulfill an

important function in the community of learners.

This episode illustrated both a type of writing instructi on--“regular” Writing Workshop-
-and a level of activity-individual and private. In the Watkins classroom, students were
afforded choices with respect to their private work. In the above episode, Marta could
choose to collaborate with a peer, to consult with a peer, or to write privately. She

determined her own level of participation, and her decision was respected.

I turn now to another type of writing instruction, genre writing, which took place

during Writing Workshop lessons.
cri 'n fhPrusivE a E'

n r l

The sequence to be examined here focused on the development of the “persuasive
writing” genre, a skill required by the new state model for literacy instruction. Recall that in
all writing activities, Angie and Rhonda sought authentic reasons and audiences for
writing. Persuasive writing was no different. Rhonda, the general education teacher in this
collaboration and who directed this particular Writing Workshop sequence, had a ready-
made subject to motivate exploration of the persuasive genre: the acquisition of school
soccer goals at Watkins. Watkins School had no soccer goals on its playing field. Playing
without soccer goals created obvious difficulties, among which were the disputes arising
over whether or not a goal had been scored. A committee of teachers and parents had been
active for some time in the expectation of convincing the school board to approve their
request for school soccer goals, and students in the class were highly interested in this
topic. Rhonda told them she was considering sending their final essays to the school board
in support of soccer goals.

Also motivating instruction in the persuasive essay genre was a state requirement
relating to writing instruction and social studies. The state model suggested a four-

component structure for persuasive essays: (a) a statement of the author’s clear position

(Clear Position, referred to in abbreviated form as CP), (b) reference to data supporting the

198

author’s position (Data Given, or DG), (c) use of prior knowledge to support the author’s
view (Prior Social Studies Knowledge, or PSSK), and (d) reference to democratic values
in support of one’s position (Core Democratic Value, or CDV). Rhonda’s plan was to
require students’ essays to be comprised of four paragraphs, with each component
represented in a paragraph. Each paragraph required a topic sentence and supporting
details, a structure with which the students were by now familiar.

Rhonda planned a sequence of instruction aligning with the expository writing model
Angie had developed through many years of teaching special education students. The
prototypical expository sequence began with teacher modeling and whole class composition
of a report. During this first part of the sequence, the teacher provided a large amount of
input, think-aloud, and guidance as she modeled and composed written text with the group.
The second part of the sequence involved small group collaboration for writing text. In
small groups, students were supported with opportunities to draw upon the shared
knowledge and expertise of peers as well as teachers, before being required to produce text

independently. Rhonda made this progression explicit when she said to the class:

We are going to work in small groups so that gets everybody a little more active...We
want to get to that point of writing your own, but I think it’s too big a jump to go from

whole group to individual (transcript).
On another day during the persuasive writing sequence she again referenced this

sequence as she reminded students to attend to the lesson: “You’re all going to have to do
this by yourself soon. This is your practice with the whole group time.” Thus, the third
part of the prototypical sequence required students to independently write their own
individual texts. However, the sequence was not completed, because time ran out at the end
of the school year, preventing students from writing individual persuasive essays.

Rhonda introduced the persuasive writing episode by involving students in her

explanation of the genre and what they would be doing.

R: This morning we are going on a journey of writing that will cause someone else
to change their thinking or so we can do something we want. What do we call that

type of writing?

199

Ned: Persuading

R: Persuading. I’m sure you all have done something like this...You really want
some new roller blades. You want something new that you think you need, but
your parents don’t agree. So you are going to beg and cry and plead?

Ss: Yes. (Nod)
R: Oh, that doesn’t work at my house.

In this way, Rhonda first identified a situation likely experienced by every student that
would be appropriate for using persuasion and then employed a nonexemplar to clarify
what persuading did not involve, specifically, begging, crying, and pleading. Ryan offered

an example of persuading activity, based on his personal experience,.

Ryan: Also persuading them you could say all my friends have new roller blades and
they’re going to make fun of me and laugh at me if I don’t have them.

T: I don’t know if that would carry weight. We will learn the best way to persuade
them. So I think you’ve got the idea of persuading down.
Rhonda confirmed Ryan’s example of persuasion, noting also that they will learn other,
better ways of persuading. She also involved students in the selection of the practice issue

by making a connection with class involvement in a virtual computer journey through

Africa, located at a site, Globaleam (2000), which periodically updated the exploring

team’s progress through Africa.

T: What did you vote on today on G1 obalearn?

S: Wearing uniforms to school.
T: That was the issue...We are going to take the issue of wearing uniforms to school.

Because persuasive writing involved the learning of new concepts and writing skills,

Rhonda provided opportunities for students’ active involvement in her presentation,

connecting with their prior knowledge and personal experience, both inside and out of the

classroom.
After the issue had been identified, Rhonda helped the students think about their

audience and the type of evidence they might use to support their position.

I want you to think, whose opinion, if in our school the grown-ups started to

T:
think about wearing uniforms in [our town], who would we write to?
Paul: The people to are making us wear uniforms.
S: The governor.
T: The governor is in charge of the whole state.
S: The mayor.
T: You’re closer. Is he is charge of just the schools? He’s in charge of other things

200

too.
S: The...school district guy.
Dr. Hayden now, Dr. Binns soon. Also the school board. They and Dr. Hayden

T:
are the ones with the power.
It it 1!

T: Who do we want to ask?
Ss: Students, parents, teachers, school staff.

Persuasive writing requires an audience, in other words, someone to persuade. Again,
Rhonda structured her instruction as a problem-solving task: to whom should we write and
why. When she could, she connected the leaming task to a real world situation, in fact, one

that her students might someday have to address in the world that “rsn’t me me me, it’s the

world out there” (teacher interview).
On the second day of the sequence, and still with the whole class, Rhonda introduced

the four-point persuasive essay text structure. Following the four-point model, Rhonda
guided the class to construct possible topic sentences for what would eventually become the
four paragraphs of the essay. The four topic sentences they constructed, corresponding to
the four components of the essay, were “I don’t think we should wear school uniforms”
(clear position); “Most students, parents, teachers, and other staff don’t want uniforms”
(data given); “My friend goes to a school where they wear uniforms, and he doesn’t like it”
(prior social studies knowledge); and “Our core democratic value of diversity would be
violated if we had to wear uniforms” (core democratic value).

The third and fourth days were devoted to whole class composition of the four
paragraphs with an output of two paragraphs per day. Rhonda guided the class’s work.
Examples of the discursive interactions which produced these paragraphs and
accompanying analyses appear below. On day five, she introduced the topic for the second

phase of the writing sequence, the small group writing assignment--persuading the school
board to install soccer goals at the school. On this day, the participant framework changed
from whole-class instruction to small-group collaboration. Because the class, functioning
as a committee of the whole for four days, had composed a four-paragraph essay on the

topic of school uniforms, Rhonda felt they were ready to assume more of the self-

201

regulatory functions related to the writing task (Englert, Tarrant, & Mari age, 1992).
Groups were based largely on existing table group configurations, which were

heterogeneous in terms of male/female, special/general education, age, and grade. On this
day, each groups’s task was to collaboratively compose four topic sentences, one for each
paragraph in the essay structure, and then proceed to write the text for the first full
paragraph, the Clear Position. On succeeding days, the groups continued their work on
their soccer goal essays, writing one paragraph each day.

The data examined here comprise an 18-minute segment of videotape made on the third
day of the persuasive writing unit. The task for the 18 minutes was the collaborative
construction of the first paragraph of the essay, the paragraph which dealt with a statement
of clear position. The result of the 18 minutes of collaboration was four supporting
sentences added to the previously constructed topic sentence. Together, the previously

constructed topic sentence and the additional supporting sentences comprised the completed

paragraph. Analysis of small group interaction is included in the next section.

)1 n i' k.“ inc 0 Vi o 0_ r111-

Al!l° 0, .roo" , 'in

Using our knowledge of this class’s history of and experience with whole group text
construction, let us now consider whole class text composition during the persuasive
writing episode. Whereas during Morning Message the teachers attended to text structure,
writing conventions, and sense making, during the persuasive writing sequence, writing

conventions dropped out for reasons we shall note later, and the emphasis was on text

structure and sense making.

W As with Morning Message, the teacher addressed issues of text
structure. Some of the structural issues directly addressed the requirements of the four-

point structure for persuasive essays. Rhonda reviewed the four points with the students

before every writing session.
T: Here’s your challenge. If you’re writing a persuasive article or paper, what are the

four things you need?

202

In addition to the four-point structure, other structural considerations referenced the
community’s historical knowledge of, for example, paragraph structure. In the following
segment, Rhonda referred to topic sentences and to the number of detail sentences required
for a complete paragraph.
T: Let’s read our topic sentence for clear position.
Ss: (Reading in unison.) I don’t think we should wear school uniforms.
T: We need to add at least how many more sentences to have this be a complete
paragraph? Show me with fingers.
Ss raise two and three fingers.

T: I will accept either two or three because a paragraph has to have three sentences.
We have one; we need two more. Three would be great.

Sense making, As with Morning Message, much of the dialogue surrounding text
construction dealt with coherence and sense making. This dialogue took the form of
negotiation, rather than the I-R-E pattern that often typifies the participation structures of
whole class lessons (Cazden, 1988). Although Rhonda, as teacher, held the felt-tip marker,
the symbol of power over the final text, she maintained a careful balance between explicitly
guiding students’ actions during text construction, on the one hand, and, on the other,
sharing decision-making power with them.

In the following analysis, sense-making is a dominant goal and activity in the
negotiations that result in the eventual paragraph. Text construction proceeded sentence by
sentence. Production of the first three supporting sentences was relatively uncomplicated.
The fourth supporting sentence, however, required more complex negotiation before it was
accepted.

MW In the following segment, Rhonda and the
students began to construct the second sentence for the Clear Position paragraph of the
practice essay on school uniforms. The previously-constructed topic (first) sentence was: “I
don’t think we should wear school uniforms.” However, prior to composing the next
sentence, Rhonda took a detour to gather resources through brainstorming. In the

following segment, Rhonda asked for a sentence, thought aloud about the requirements of

the sentence, and conducted a brief brainstorming activity. Final versions of the sentences

203

eventually written into the text are indicated by bolding in this and the following transcript

segments.

T:

Paul:

Cassie:

Kiley:
T:

S:
T:

Mark:
T:
Mark:
T:

Mark:
T:

This is where we need to be careful. We want to give some reasons without
taking stuff away from our following paragraphs. We want to make sure it’s
going to fit in here best. What could our next sentence be? Can anyone think of
a next sentence? “I don’t think we should wear school uniforms.” Do we want
to include data here? No. Do we want to use all of our pre-social studies
knowledge? No, we could be a little vague. Here. We’re going to have to use
some prior knowledge here. Do we want to state our core democratic value
here? Probably not. What can we do? Paul? Have you got an idea?

I have an idea for a reason. You could put something like a lot of people
wouldn’t want, I don’t want them because I should have to wash my uniforms
on the weekend and I might not have enough time.

Any reasons that could come up here? Let’s just brainstorm for awhile. Let’s
put a few ideas up here. Having to wash them. What are some other reasons
why we don’t want to wear school uniforms?

They also be white and they get dirty.

Tbegins a list.

They cost money.

(adding to the list) Okay, they cost money. Okay. I’ll put a dollar sign up here
to remind us about the money thing.

You might have to iron them.

Oh, you might have to iron them. That would be [inaudible]. Okay, wash,
we’ll just add “and iron.” That’s a good one. I hadn’t thought of that one.
Tadds “and iron ” to “was

You have to buy another one if you get a hole in it.

Okay, You would have to keep replacing.

And you have to buy the same ones every single time.

Yup. So it would be what? If you’re doing the same thing every single time,
what starts happening? You get // bored, right? So they’d be boring?

Yeah.

Twrites.

Okay, let’s take those ideas that we have and start putting them into sentences.
Those are all good ones.

Rhonda first modeled a thinking process and a planning strategy students could use

when planning the requirements of the paragraph. She asked patterned questions that

eliminated other possible purposes: “Do we want data here? No. Do we want to use...?

No. Do we want to state. . . ? Probably not.”

Next, she initiated a brief brainstorming activity to gather more resources for the

paragraph. Students suggested six ideas to shape the content of the paragraph, in the

following order: “wash,” “get dirty,” cost (which Rhonda represented with a dollar sign),

“iron” (which Rhonda added to “wash” as in “wash and iron”), “keep replacing,” and

204

“boring.” These six ideas provided the conceptual resources for the paragraph Rhonda and
the students worked to construct. Rhonda did not have a predetermined idea of the content
of this paragraph, and it was likely that she was as in need of resources as the students
might have been. However, once the ideas had been offered and listed, they became the
criteria for the content of the paragraph. Students referenced them, and Rhonda guided
students to include them in the paragraph.

After the short brainstorm, Kevin suggested a sentence quite similar to Paul’s;
however, Cassie repeated Mark’s earlier suggestion, which was taken up by Rhonda.

Kevin: You could write wash and iron and plus you have to dry them... .

T: .Okay, I need a sentence. That was a good idea to add another idea.
Cassie: You would have to keep buying [inaudible]
T: You would have to keep buying the same uniforms? “I don’ t thrnk we should

wear school uniforms.’ Should we start out, now when we are doing, should
we write, just start and say, we would have to buy, we would have to, can
you guys see that back there?
Twrites.

T: To keep. How did you say it, Cassie? Buying. . .Would have to keep buying
the same clothing. Okay, that leads into another thing that we brainstormed, I
think, though, see how that might lead in?

T: Let’s reread this real quick. Everyone sit up straight and tall. Up, up... Here

we go.

T and Ss reread: I don’t think we should wear school uniforms. You would

have to keep buying the same clothes.

Cassie repeated Mark’s earlier idea about buying the “same uniforms.” At this point
there were three ideas on the table: Paul’s, Kevin’s, and Cassie’s. Rhonda took up and
considered Mark’ s/Cassie’s idea, which was related to cost or money, in the following
sequence. First, she repeated what Cassie suggested. Then she repeated the topic sentence.
Her next utterance was a think-aloud, a model of the type of thinking an author might use
during the drafting phase, as she tried first one idea and then another, with several false
starts and unfinished thoughts. Finally, she began to turn the students’ thought into a
written sentence, again consulting Cassie for appropriate wording. At this point, Rhonda
anticipated the content of the next sentence, although this can only be noted in hindsight.
As she spoke the phrase, “the same clothing,” she likely thought of the brainstormed

concept, “boring,” which the next sentence addressed.

205

Rhonda’s final action in this portion of the lesson was to engage all students in a
rereading of the text constructed at this point. Choral rereading provided lower-performing
students with an opportunity for voice-print matching in the context of supportive group
activity. The interactions portrayed in this part of the lesson present a clear demonstration
of joint problem solving in the work of text construction. Rhonda managed the social
participation structure; however, her role in the subject matter task was much less
managerial and closer to one of being a co-participant in the activity. Together, Paul,
Cassie, and Rhonda co-constructed a useable supporting sentence.

flensteueting the seeengl and third seppeging sentenees, Construction of the second
and third supporting sentences of the paragraph was fairly straightforward, in that Rhonda
and students turned several of the brainstormed ideas into complete sentences without
extensive negotiation. In the following segment, Rhonda used, with little modification,
students’ suggestions for the next two sentences.

T: What’s the next sentence that comes to your mind? I need some help from you.

Tara: [inaudible]

T: Okay, you want that one next, though? That’s a good one. Can you hold on to

it, though? I’m kind of not doing what I usually do, write it right up here, to

save time on the editing process here. Andre, what do you think? You buy the
same clothes

A: [inaudible]
S: [inaudible]
T: Okay, to wear the same clothes every day. Boring.

T writes: You would have to wear the same clothes every day and
that would be boring.

T: You might even want to do a little editing on that one. Okay, I’ll go back to Tara
right now. What did you say?

Tara: You would have to get up early in the morning to iron your clothes.

T: You would have to get up early in the morning to iron your
clothes.
Twrites this sentence.

T: Okay, we’re working pretty good. We’ve just about got this one finished, I
think. We’ve got the boring part and the ironing part.

Rhonda’s final utterance provides insight into her strategy for this part of the
paragraph. Using ideas from the brainstormed list—“boring” and “ironing”—she invited
students to offer suggestions for complete sentences. Tara repeated the idea, ironing, she

had contributed to the brainstormed list, but Rhonda decided to hold that in abeyance for a

206

moment. Perhaps she had decided to use the “boring” idea. Here we note that, although
Rhonda did not have a predetermined plan for the content of this paragraph, she revealed
evidence of her plans for an emerging structure based on the brainstormed ideas contributed
by the students. Accordingly, Rhonda responded to Andre’s raised hand, prompting him
with the idea she had in mind, “You buy the same clothes.” Andre and an unidentified
student modified Rhonda’s idea to suggest the sentence that Rhonda wrote: “You would
have to wear the same clothes every day and that would be boring.”

At that point, Rhonda returned to Tara’s idea. Rhonda imported her restated sentence
without modification into the text. She remarked on their progress metacognitively, “We’re
working pretty good,” and noted specific content, “We’ve got the ‘boring’ part and the
‘ironing’ part.” Ideas left unaddressed on the brainstormed list were cost and “get dirty.”
These were the prompts Rhonda used to begin consideration of a final sentence for the
paragraph.

WWW Whereas construction of the first three
supporting sentences required rather uncomplicated collaboration to compose text,
construction of the final sentence of the paragraph proved to be much more complex. A
word count of the dialogue engaged in during the construction of the first three supporting
sentences indicates that Rhonda and the students used a total of 630 teacher and student
words to construct the three sentences. By contrast, negotiations related to the fourth
supporting sentence alone required 957 words before the sentence was finalized. What
happened to account for this complexity? What were teacher and student roles in the verbal
interactions?

To structure the discursive activity surrounding the construction of the final sentence in
the paragraph, this piece of discourse can be parsed into four sections. Each of the first
three sections ends with a possible stopping point; however, something happens to extend
the discussion. At the first possible stopping point, Rhonda wrote a sentence on the board.

When we consider the pattern of dialogue used in the construction of the prior sentences,

207

we can speculate that she considered the sentence and the paragraph completed. However,
a student suggested an editing move to shorten the sentence, providing a second possible
stopping point. This was followed by additional attempts to modify and shorten the
sentence, a third possible end point of the discussion. However, just as she was about to
do this, another idea intervened to take the discussion in yet another direction.
Wfifingthesentenee concluded with the first site for potential resolution of the
paragraph. Rhonda began with an invitation for a new sentence as she referenced the
brainstormed list: “We want to add any of these?” She called on Marta, a special education

student, who had her hand up, but when called upon, seemed inarticulate.

T: We want to add any of these? We don’t have to use them all. It’s just our
brainstorm. Marta?/////
T: You want a sentence about clothes getting dirty and or how much they cost?

What were you thinking? Do you want to make a sentence about getting dirty?
Okay. We may be able to put these two together. And we may need to add this
one on in here somewhere. Marta, do you have a sentence about them getting
dirty? What is it?

T: Someone help Marta? Marta, choose somebody to help you in your sentence

about getting dirty. Do not choose someone who’s bugging you. /// Huny.

Marta: Dustin.

Marta’s act of hand raising signaled her understanding of the social participation
structure of this lesson. However, when called upon, she had difficulty in providing a
response. Rhonda allowed her to select another student to answer for her, participation by
proxy. In the following segment, Dustin, another student with a learning disability,
participated in the lesson.

Dustin: Eating lunch.

T: How’s that gonna? Is eating lunch a whole sentence?
D: No.

T: No. Can you make that into a whole sentence?
D: Eating lunch.

T: Tell me what would happen. Food would

D: Eating lunch. At lunchtime

T: At lunchtime, food might

D: Drop

T: Drop on your

D: Uniform.

T: Uniform. And then you would have to what?
D: Clean it.

T: Wash them.

208

Twrites this on the board: At lunchtime, food might dirty your uniform and
you would have to wash it.

Dustin’s idea may have been appropriate for this sentence, but he had difficulty
expressing it. “Eating lunch” required elaboration and a connection to the “get dirty” idea
on the table. Rhonda worked with him, providing scaffolding that supported his
contribution to the paragraph. The resulting sentence had intemal coherence and made
sense in the paragraph. At this point, the paragraph might have been complete; however, in
this classroom, such determination was not entirely the prerogative of the teacher.

Sheflening the sentence provided a second point of possible resolution. At this point
Paul suggested a revision of Dustin’s sentence that would be more succinct, succinctness
being a motive that Rhonda had suggested as appropriate writing behavior. Rhonda then
placed Paul’s suggestion “on the table,” as it were, for class consideration.

T: Paul? Your hand was up before? It went down? Go ahead, if you want to make

any adjustments?
Paul: [inaudible]

T: Paul, just a second. Over on this side of the room I’m hearing voices. Go ahead,
Paul.
P: I have an idea for a sentence. When you get dirty you have to wash it, which

would be a lot shorter. [inaudible]

T: Okay, they would, you get dirty and you have to wash it. Do you want to
change it, class? Thumbs up if you want to change the dirty one. Remember
how we talked about making it shorter, making our writing shorter, using less
words but still having a paragraph? Ifyou’re not sure, frne. Thumbs up for
‘Yeah, let’s change it.’ Thumbs down for ‘No.’

Condensing the sentence might have been an appropriate solution at this point, but
again, resolution was avoided. Rhonda again turned the decision and the composing
activity back to the students.

A seeend tty at sheflening the sentenee might have brought resolution, but did not.
Failing to sense a class consensus, Rhonda opened the process to Ned. Ned offered an
alternative to Paul’s suggestion, and Rhonda made Ned’s suggestion available to the class
for consideration.

Ned: I want to change it, but not his sentence.

T: Not his way... Okay, I don’t see too many thumbs up, so let’s listen to Ned’s
way.

209

Ned: Um, you could put you would have to keep buying new uniforms and they
would get dirty so you would have to wash them over and over again. So use all
three of them.
Well, you’ve got up here the keep buying thing already.
Then you could take away the money one.
Okay, keep buying would go with the money one. Is it okay if we vote on this?
Trey has an idea.
I would use the money one.
How would you use it?
: Um, pants would cost $20 or so.
Well, yeah, We don’t want to get too specific on how much, because we’re not
sure. We would have to keep buying the same clothes and
: It would be way too much money.
And it would be way too much money. We could add that one right there. Okay.
Tstarts to write.
What’s a shorter way to say it would be way too much money? It would//
Cost a lot.
Cost a lot. Okay, we got that one in there.
Okay, let’s go back to the bottom. Everybody sit up straight and tall and read
this sentence. Let’s see if we can make it shorter.

Z?)

"S
a
’.<.

8
~<

fifiwfi fl: fidflfi fl
. . (D
<

Ned offered a way to include several of the brainstormed suggestions in one sentence,
and convinced Rhonda that this strategy might work. As Rhonda worked with students’
ideas, she acted as billboard, publicizing current ideas for consideration. As she did so, she
acknowledged authorship: “Ned’s way.” By the time she said, “Ned’s way,” there were
several “ways” up for consideration: Dustin’s way (“At lunchtime food might drop on your
uniform and then you would have to wash them,”) Paul’s way (“When you get dirty you
have to wash it,”) and Ned’s way (“You would have to keep buying new uniforms, and
they would get dirty, so you would have to wash them over and over again”). By using
this move, Rhonda positioned students as decision makers and problem solvers (O’Connor
& Michaels, 1993). However, none of these ideas resolved the sentence, and Rhonda
brought the group back to consideration of how to shorten the final sentence, “Let’s see if
we can make it shorter.”

Mem’ten'ng the sentenee fer sense-making, rather than merely shortening it, finally
brought resolution. Rhonda noted a sense-making problem with Dustin’s sentence and
challenged him to clarify his idea.

T: I hate to tell you this, but how is that different from wearing your own
clothes? You might do that with your own clothes. Dustin, you might spill

210

We

assie:

3'10 71.353

Cassie:

Paul :

T:

food on that shirt today. Wouldn’t you wash it? Well, what’s the difference
between that and a uniform? Somehow we gotta make it be different.

: The buttons might fall off when you're washing your clothes.

Hm?

The buttons might come off.

Oh, you’ll have to wash them too often? Oh, now that’s another and if things
start falling off and if they wear out? There’s something we didn’t think about.
That could go with the buying one.

Could go with buying one up there too, couldn’t it. Good thinking. Cassie,
What’s your idea?

You could say you could get hot in the summertime, wearing pants.

You know what, that one might come under this one. If you get too hot. You
know if you have to wear sleeves and stuff in the summertime, you gonna get
hot. Hang onto that thought.

Why can’t they just wear regular clothes, why do they have to be at private
school?

Well, our issue is, we’re pretending that [our town] schools are thinking about
having all the [school] kids wear uniforms. And what would we want to say
about that to someone. How would we persuade someone to agree with the
stand we’re taking. Our stand is no. But we have to persuade someone. And
Dustin, but not just Dustin, everyone, if you’re writing things that could still
be the same as regular clothes, that’s not gonna persuade anybody. But he
added a thought, Dustin said they might wear out quicker. Now there’s a
thought. Uniforms might wear out quicker. Maybe we should add that at the
bottom. At lunch food might dirty your uniform and you would have to wash
it more often, and then they might wear out. How about that? Patrick?

You should put, you might have to wash it a lot, period. Then your uniforms
might wear out.

Tlooks at paragraph and thinks ( I 5-second pause).

All right. (Writes on board) and they might wear out. We’re gonna come back
to this stuff. All right, we’re done with this one for now.

Rhonda’s question called for critical thinking. Again, Rhonda worked with Dustin’s

suggestion to make it fit into the paragraph in a manner coherent with the persuasive genre.
Losing buttons in the wash was not clearly a problem with uniforms, but Rhonda
supported Dustin’s participation in the class activity by making the connection explicit:
“Oh, you’ll have to wash them too often? ...and if they wear out?” Rhonda’s moves in
working with multiple authors demonstrated that, although she had a sense of how the
paragraph, and the entire essay, might be constructed with genre-specific features, she did
not have a preconceived idea of the content to be included. As students shared their ideas,

Rhonda put them all on the table.

In all negotiations, Rhonda stayed very close to students’ own words and the already

recorded text. She seldom paraphrased already composed text. If Darlene’s repeated

211

question during whole group text construction was, “What’s next?”, Rhonda’s was, "Do
we/you want to...(include, use, state, add, change, make, vote, put)?” In this way,
decision-making remained with the students. Similar to Morning Message text, this text
was highly contestable, open to interrogation from both teacher and students, whose
collaborative efforts were required for its construction.

In the lesson examined, Rhonda spoke 1047 total words, for an average of 58 words
per minute. Her task talk made up 94% of her total words. Task talk consisted of questions

and statements that functioned to lead and direct the lesson (see Table 10).

 

Table 10
type; gng Pergentgge§ _e_f Tegeher’g Tglk Dering the Persggsive Writing Segments
Type of talk Percentage of talk
Questions 35%
Using and encouraging strategic thinking 28%
Clarifying or repeating student ideas 13%
Using and encouraging problem solving 13%
Thinking aloud 13%
Review 8%

 

Thirty-five percent of her task talk words were contained in questions. Almost half,
46%, of her questions were used to clarify the topic immediately under consideration or to
scaffold students’ responses.

How did you say it, Cassie?

You would have to keep buying the same uniforms?
See how that might lead in?

Oh, you’ll have to wash them too often?

Marta, do you have a sentence about them getting dirty?
Is “eating lunch” a whole sentence?

Thirty-one percent of her questions turned the problem-solving activity back to students
or calling upon or returning to students to pick up earlier suggestions.
Andre, what do you think?

Cassie, what’s your idea?
Do you want to change it, class?

212

We want to add any of these?
What’s the difference between that and a uniform?

Rhonda also used “What’s next?” in 15% of her questioning.
What could our next sentence be?
Can anyone think of a next sentence?
What can we do?
What’s the next sentence that comes to you mind?
A small number of words, 8%, were used to review possible content for the paragraph

under construction:

Do we want to include data here?
Do we want to state our core democratic value here?

Rhonda’s questions consumed 35% of her task talk, but in this lesson the dialogue took
the form of negotiation rather than repeating the I-R—E pattern so ofien typifying
participation structures in whole class lessons (Cazden, 1988). While this traditional pattern
of teacher-student exchange occasionally appeared, it did not dominate teacher-student
interactions. Although Rhonda, as teacher, held the felt-tip marker, the symbol of power
over the final text, she maintained a careful balance between explicitly guiding students’
actions during text construction, on the one hand, and, on the other, sharing decision-
making power with them.

Almost half of Rhonda’s statements, 41%, used or encouraged strategic thinking and
problem solving. These are examples of these statements:

This is where we need to be careful. . . .We want to make sure it’s going to fit in here

best. . . .We’re going to have to use some prior knowledge here.

Let’s just brainstorm for awhile.

Let’s take those ideas that we have and start putting them into sentences.

I need some help from you.

There’s something we didn’t think about.

You know what, that one might come under this one.

Rhonda also made her thinking visible in her think-alouds, which were sometimes
rather rough.

Should we start out, now when we are doing, should we write, just start and say, we

would have to buy.

Okay, that leads into another thing that we brainstormed, I think, though.
I’m kind of not doing what I usually do, write it right up here, to save time on the

213

editing process here.
Okay, we’re working pretty good. . . .We’ve got the boring part and the ironing part.

Too much teacher talk can be detrimental to classroom dialogue if it functions to close
down conversations (Burbules, 1993). Clearly, Rhonda’s talk served to extend, rather than
resolve, questions and issues, thus including the students as colleagues in the activity.
Through her talk, students were invited to enter the conversation and provided with a
verbalized model of mental processes involved in text construction. They observed
cognitive processes necessary for text construction (“Are we using our data here and really
getting details? That’s what you need to do”), and they also observed that the process can
sometimes be rough (“Should we start out, now when we are doing, should we write, just
start and say, we would have to buy, we would have to”). The opportunity was afforded
them to learn that, by working together and drawing on common knowledge, the task can
be accomplished.

n iz rci fr r Tex n cin'Trc ofM in Me I
Morning Message provided a standard of practice that was acknowledged both in practice
and in omission during the persuasive writing episode. First, typical Morning Message
practice involved error finding and editing for mechanical errors. Here, Ned invokes this
practice during the persuasive writing episode.

Ned: It should be “and it costs a lot.”

T: “Costs a lot.” I have to put the “5” up there.

Ned: There’s still some more corrections.

T: I know, but we’re not going to do that right now.

When Ned said, “There’s still some more corrections,” he invoked text construction
norms from Morning Message. During Morning Message, students were expected to
search for textual errors, whether the errors involved grammatical constructions,
conventions of writing, or other issues. Students seemed to view error finding as a
challenge or even a game, and Ned expected to engage in the practice now. Rhonda’s
response, “I know, but we’re not going to do that right now,” acknowledged both the

prevailing norms and the departure from the norms. Teachers embedded instruction in

214

writing conventions such as spelling, capitalization, and punctuation within the activity of
joint construction of Morning Message text. However, Rhonda’s instruction relative to the
persuasive essay activity did not focus on the technical and conventional attributes of
written text. Rather, as I illustrated above, Rhonda focused her instruction on the structure
and coherence of the text.

A second major influence of the Morning Message text construction process had to do
with student autonomy. During Morning Message, students, specifically the author of the
moment, retained decision-making authority over the content of the text, as has been
demonstrated above. However, in the persuasive writing sequence, Rhonda, because of
time constraints, diverged from standard practice by interjecting herself into text
negotiations in order to accelerate text construction. Rhonda twice referenced the Morning
Message standard by noting departures from it.

T: Okay, you want that one next, though? That’s a good one. Can you hold on to

it, though? I’m kind of not doing what I usually do, write it right up here, to

save time on the editing process here.
* * *

T: Not so much a freedom as a fundamental belief. Shall we put that, that’s a
fundamental belief? Not so much a freedom./// Now I’m kind of helping you
out here because of time a little more than I would normally do, but it’s always
good to go back to your chart, to use some of the big words up there,
fundamental belief will hit somebody right where they should start thinking
about it.

By saying, “I’m kind of not doing what I usually do,” and “I’m kind of helping you
out here because of time a little more than I would normally do,” Rhonda noted that she as
the teacher was taking a different stance relative to the composing process than students
might normally expect from their experiences in Morning Message activities. It was true
that she used a familiar process, group text construction, to accomplish her object of
acquainting students with a new genré of writing. However, as she noted, time constraints
(Scruggs & Mastropieri, 1995) prevented her from full compliance with established

classroom norms. In addition, she may have felt that a more direct type of instruction might

be more appropriate than an exploratory process at this time. Had students had multiple

215

opportunities to collaboratively construct persuasive text, Rhonda might have, over time,
gradually withdrawn this level of direction and support, fuming over the cognitive
functions to students as they exhibited increased expertise in the genré.

.rruu o Artz‘ !m§.JT ran ,1 .10 I run

In this section I consider features of student-produced texts related to both Morning
Message and Writing Workshop. I then comment on other writing activities in this
classroom.

W Both Morning Message and Writing Workshop involved writing
extended texts (Graham & Harris, 1994). In fact, students did no writing at the sound,
letter, word, or sentence level, except for phonics work during reading groups led by the
teachers. All other writing assignments (i.e., journals, report writing, Writing Workshop,
and recess writing assignments) were at the message level. Related to writing extended text
is writing sustained text (Raphael & Hiebert, 1996), where students are involved with the
same text over a long period of time. In this classroom, students in Writing Workshop
might work on a piece over many days or even weeks.

Both Moming Message and Writing Workshop involved writing expository and
narrative text. Although teachers frequently consider narratives a more appropriate genré
for very young students (Scott, 1994), Angie and Rhonda intentionally varied the genré for
all students, including their special education first graders. Thus, all students received
multiple opportunities to explore writing different types of texts.

Furthermore, all students were expected to write. No students dictated their texts to
teachers. All written texts produced were considered to be drafts rather than final versions.
That is, students could use invented spelling, editor’s marks, and other strategies (e. g.,
arrows) to compose and to provide coherence for themselves and their readers. “Sloppy
copies” were celebrated as documents that showed, by the appearance of editor’s marks,
arrows, cross outs, and so forth, evidence of the writer’s thoughtful composition of and

reflection on text. Angie and Rhonda emphasized the creativity and substance of the

216

product rather than its physical appearance. Students and teachers often used computers to
publish their writing; students were rarely required to recopy text by hand.
WE. For Angie and Rhonda, writing mediated all academic
activities. Writing activities undertaken for the purpose of learning academic subjects
included reading centers, literature response, reading journals, math journals, and theme
writing. When they talked about academic goals for writing, Angie and Rhonda talked
about immediate, within-the-classroom results: “We take kids where we get them, and we
try to give them a whole year’s learning. No matter where they came to us, they learn a
whole year.” They also talked about long-tenn, outside-the-classroom results:
Thinking about how you leam...(is) all part of becoming independent,...being able to
analyze what you need to do to become independent,.. .what works for you. Where do
you see yourself in a few years?...Where do you see yourself being in the world?
(interview)

Still other writing activities promoted the enrichment of all students, both general
education and special education. For example, an enrichment opportunity called Eight’s
Great, based on the multiple intelligences construct (Gardner, 1983), provided instruction
in areas and topics of individual student strengths and interests and was occasionally
offered during theme time in the afternoon. In another writing activity, one of the student
teachers in the classroom developed and taught a poetry unit during the Morning Message
time slot. Thus, formal writing instruction was often augmented by additional lessons and
activities which provided opportunities for further writing and literacy learning. Indeed, the
Watkins teachers claimed that writing mediated every aspect of students’ academic life:
“That’s a lot of writing, because whatever they’re task is, they have to write about it.”

,' ...I! .h. r0 r. ... kEn_ ..z-mn- ..m o i In er in i ’ 1i .. c Pri .. '

Recall that Angie and Rhonda placed high priority on the development of community. If

there was one expectation the teachers had of all children in this classroom, it was to

participate in all activities. They also expected students to help each other to be able to do

this. In this part of the chapter I take note of the engagement and social interaction

217

opportunities afforded to students with learning disabilities during large and small group
writing activities and during independent writing.
Engagedandflisengagedfiehmor

In Chapter Four, task engagement was defined as a combination of three traits: activity
(motoric vigor of the child), distractibility (extent to which attention and behavior can be
diverted), and persistence (length of attention span and tendency to continue a task despite
obstacles) (Orth and Martin, 1994). Examination and coding of transcripts suggested five
types of engaged or disengaged behavior: overt self-initiated behavior, overt other-initiated
behavior, covert self-initiated behavior, covert other-initiated behavior, and all disengaged
behavior. Note that in this study I distinguish between task engagement and social
interaction, although some task engagement behaviors include interaction with other
individuals.

Seeking to establish a sense of the range and type of task engagement of students with
learning disabilities, I typified rather than counted task engagement behaviors that seemed
to represent the type and level of engagement of Marta and Dustin, two students with
learning disabilities. In this part of the chapter I describe task engagement types and levels
in public, small group, and independent task structures. Following this discussion, I
elaborate on engagement episodes that include social interaction.

W This section examines engaged and
disengaged behavior during whole group text composition in Morning Message and
Writing Workshop. Examination of videotapes of Marta and Dustin showed limited
engaged behavior during both Morning Message and Writing Workshop episodes. For all
students, appropriate overt engagement behaviors for whole group text construction in both
Morning Message and Writing Workshop included raising one’s hand, speaking when
called upon, and rereading the text with the whole group. Appropriate covert engagement
included attending to speakers and generally appearing to follow the lesson. During the

Morning Message episode examined in this chapter, Marta, rather than being expected to

218

participate in the text construction, had a special task, checking names. However, to
illustrate that Marta on occasion did indeed engage directly with Morning Message text
construction, I offer a segment of another Morning Message. On this occasion, Marta
raised her hand to volunteer a sentence which was accepted into the text.

Angie prompts Tenishea, the author, to call on Marta.

Marta: Tenishea is going to open presents.

Angie: (to Tenishea) Do you like that?

Tenishea: Yeah.

Tenishea’s approving response to Angie’s “Do you like that?” meant that the sentence
would be included in the text of the message. For Marta, who was often reticent to speak in
whole group lessons, being able to draw on cultural knowledge to fluently suggest a
sentence without further prompting, and then having it accepted as part of the emerging
text, marked her as a contributing member of this community of practice on a par with other
contributing members.

During the Writing Workshop episodes involving persuasive writing, Marta overtly
engaged with the activity by raising her hand during whole group text composition on three
different days. On one of the three occasions she lowered her hand immediately and was
not called on. However, on the other two occasions she was called upon. In the exchange
recorded below, Rhonda and students had just completed a sentence in the clear position
paragraph. Rhonda asked the class what they wanted to add next.

T: Okay, we’re working pretty good. We’ve just about got this one finished, I

think. We’ve got the boring part and the ironing part.

T: We want to add any of these? (Rhonda gestures toward the brainstormed list of
items that could be used in developing the paragraph.) We don’t have to use
them all. It’s just our brainstorm. Marta?

Marta had her hand up, but when called on, can’t seem to think of anything to say.

T: You want a sentence about clothes getting dirty and or how much they cost?
What were you thinking? Do you want to make a sentence about getting dirty?
(Marta nods.) Okay. We may be able to put these two together. And we may
need to add this one on in here somewhere. Marta, do you have a sentence
about them getting dirty? (Marta nods.) What is it?///

T: Someone help Marta? Marta, choose somebody to help you in your sentence

about getting dirty. Do not choose someone who’s bugging you. /// Hurry.
Marta: Dustin.

219

This time, Marta apparently did not have a sentence ready at hand, or could not produce
one fluently. Despite her raised hand, Marta failed to respond verbally when called upon.
She simply sat and looked at Rhonda. Perhaps she had lost the thread of conversation, or
perhaps she had not realized the complexity of the response required. Rhonda attempted to
simplify the task by prompting possible appropriate responses, “You want a sentence about
clothes getting dirty and or how much they cost?” Rhonda’s second prompt, “Do you want
to make a sentence about getting dirty?” elicited a nod. Whether or not that was Marta’s
initial intention, she acquiesced with Rhonda’s suggestion. Although Marta’s initial act of
hand raising seemed to suggest that she had an idea for the paragraph and a sentence to
embody the idea, she did not produce it. At that point, Rhonda invoked the class “helping”
norm and asked Marta to nominate someone to “help,” which, in fact, meant suggesting a
sentence. Marta chose Dustin, who was sitting across the room. The focus of action then
switched to Rhonda and Dustin. Marta had participated in the class activity by designating a
proxy, surely an method of participation found in few classrooms.

In the following exchange, which occurred another day, Rhonda was reviewing with
the whole class the names of the four components of the persuasive essay structure they
were learning. By now the terms identifying the four paragraphs were familiar enough so

that many students had memorized some or all of them, including Marta.

T: (to entire class)...Raise your hand if you think you can tell me at least one of
those things I’m talking about.
Students raise hands.

T: Put your hand up if you think you can do two. Marta, what was your one?
Marta doesn ’t respond.

T: Which one of these things that we have to have?

arta: Data given.
T: Data given. There’s one, good for Marta.

Again, Marta did not immediately respond when called upon, and, again, Rhonda
provided a prompt. This time Marta responded appropriately. Two things may be noted
about Rhonda’s instructional behavior in these two situations. First, she gave multiple

prompts. When Marta did not respond to the first prompt, Rhonda offered a second. When

220

Marta responded to the second prompt, “Do you want to make a sentence about getting
dirty?” with only a nod, Rhonda continued to prompt until Marta’s contribution-by-proxy
was established. Second, Rhonda offered the possibility of differential responses and
response mechanisms which enabled the participation of students at different performance
levels. In the first example above, Marta had two options: responding herself or selecting
someone who would do this for her. In the second example, Rhonda, who had asked who
could remember “one of those things,” then two, continued the recitation by asking who
could remember three of the “things” and then all four. Marta was able to fulfill the
teacher’s first request, being able to remember “one of those things.” Thus, the
participation of students like Marta who might only be able to recall one of the paragraph
labels was as legitimate as that of students who might be able to recall all four terms.

WWW During the Moming Message episode
above, Dustin engaged in the activity three times by employing participation moves
frequently used in Morning Message lessons. Twice he called for a rereading of the text,
and once he challenged the use of the “name-he—name-he” pattern. In each of the two
transcribed segments which follow, Dustin had raised his hand, and Kevin, in his author’s
role, had called on him. Dustin asked that the class read over the text. Each time the teacher
responded affirmatively.

T: Okay, let’s read it over quick. Ready?

All: (Reading fiom the chart paper) Kevin already had his soccer game last
Tuesday night at 6:30. He has a soccer game at Grandview.

3|! * It
Dustin: Read it all over.
T: Okay, let’s go. Everyone sit up straight and tall and read.

All: (Reading) Kevin already had his soccer game last Tuesday night at 6:30. He
had a soccer game at Grandview Middle School. Kevin’s team won. He had a
fun time.

The rereading was intended to be metacognitive in that rereading was a way to monitor

the meaning of the emerging text. Rereadings were frequently done in order to

accommodate low readers and to be able to hear the text, which provided a different way to

determine meaning than visual scanning. Thus, Dustin’s move was appropriate, because

221

calling for rereading was always appropriate (unless immediately following a previous
rereading). It was legitimate participation because it was part of the social participation task
structure for this activity.

Calling for examination of the “name, pronoun, name, pronoun” pattern provided
evidence of Dustin’s attention to the activity. This occurred following another student’s
request for a rereading, which begins the next segment.

All: (Reading) Kevin already had his soccer game last Tuesday night at 6:30. He
had a soccer game at Gardner Middle School. Kevin’s team won and he had a
fun time. Kevin is good at defense in soccer.

Dustin: Kevin should be “he.”

T: Let’s check it. We alternate, right? Kevin, he, Kevin, he, Kevin. Nope, but
that was really good, because you’re trying to follow this. That’s a good habit
to get into, to check things.

What Dustin was likely attending to was the first word in each sentence, which
followed this pattern: Kevin...He...Kevin...Kevin. Dustin may have thought that the final
“Kevin” in this sequence should be the pronoun “he.” Angie, in checking the “name,
pronoun, name, pronoun” sequence, correctly included in the sequence the “he” in the third
sentence, which Dustin may have overlooked or not understood as belonging in the
sequence. Nevertheless, Dustin’s challenge was acknowledged as legitimate, and the
appropriate procedure for checking was initiated. However, the text required no change.
Angie acknowledged the value of Dustin’s self-initiated bid to participate. She standardized
the choice Dustin had made, “That’s a good habit to get into, to check things.” Dustin’s
move was legitimate, both as a discourse move in this activity (“We alternate, right?”) and
as a way-of-acting for writers (“...to check things”).

Both of these discourse moves were appropriate for the activity. Two interpretations of
these moves may be made. The first is that Dustin was closely following the text
construction, needing to have the text reread for his own benefit and determining that an
error in the “name-he-name—he” pattem required correction. A second interpretation is that

Dustin did not have a sense of the requirements of the construction of this particular text

and was arbitrarily imitating discourse moves he had seen others make. If the second

222

interpretation correctly represents Dustin’s intent, and I’m not suggesting that it does, what
would be the value of this type of participation? There are two possible benefits. First, the
moves were legitimate for this activity. Calling for rereading and challenging the “name-he-
name-he” pattern legitimized Dustin’s participation. Whether or not 12qu needed the
rereading, it had been several minutes since the previous rereading, and semeene would
likely benefit from it. Whether or not the “name-he-name-he” pattern was correct, it was
appropriate to check its use. In making these moves, Dustin demonstrated for himself and
for his peers his valued membership in the learning community. Second, Angie, to
encourage Dustin’s participation, treated the moves as_if they were necessary. The goal for
Angie and Rhonda was the participation of all students in classroom activity. The structure
of the activity was sufficiently loose that the placement of these moves within the total
activity sequence was flexible. Either of the moves might have been made at other points
and been equally as useful. Therefore, these discourse moves could be legitimized for the
purpose of encouraging participation as well as text construction. Acting out a legitimate
discursive sequence, needed or not, was useful for encouraging participation in the activity.
During the persuasive writing sequence, there was no evidence of Dustin’s self-initiated
involvement during whole class activities. However, he did participate actively when
prompted by the teacher (other-initiation). Several times Rhonda said his name, not
requesting a response, but to call his attention to the lesson: “Dustin, what do you do when
you start a paragraph? Everybody, say it.” The question was, in fact, addressed to the
entire class. Rhonda did not expect Dustin to respond, because she did not wait for him to
act. There was no pause before she added, “Everybody, say it.” Or another time, “I saw a
lot of no indenting. You’re going to remember this time, right, Dustin?” Dustin had been
sitting bent over so that his head was down near his knees. Rhonda’s intention was not to
elicit a response, but to call him to attention, a typical teacher move. In this way Dustin was
called from his disengaged state - whispering to Mark, looking at a book in his lap, talking

to Diane, wiggling, whispering to another student about her sunbumed face, tapping his

223

desk, burping, and yawning - to attention to the whole group activity.

Covert engagement in both lessons was difficult to determine, but it was assumed that
if students oriented their bodies and/or eyes to the teacher and the general give-and-take of
the dialogue, they were engaged as an active if silent participant in the lesson. Using
body/eye orientation as an indicator, I observed both Dustin and Marta covertly engaged at
times during whole group lessons. On one occasion during the persuasive writing
sequence, Marta seemed to follow the text on the large chart paper as the teacher and
students reread it. Although her lips were not moving, her eyes seemed to follow the text as
it was read.

Disengaged behevier eering peblie lessens; Mega. Instances of Marta’s and Dustin’s
disengaged behavior during whole group activities were also recorded. Typical of these
was Marta’s playing with something at her desk, whereupon Rhonda called on her: “Marta,
stop,” “Marta, please stop doing that with your shoe.” Other disengaged behaviors
included laying her head on her desk, prompting the teacher to remonstrate, “Marta, I hope
you’re taking part in the classroom here,” or orienting her body away from the teacher, to
which Rhonda responded severally, “Marta, turn yourself this way so I know you’re
watching.” “Marta, look up here.” “Marta, you need to pay attention this way.” During this
orientation away from the activity Marta might be observed looking around the room.

WWW Dustin’s disengaged behavior
during whole group activities was similar to Marta’s. During the Moming Message
episode, he was oriented away from the teacher, causing her to prompt: “Dustin, face this
way. Don’t turn around again.” Several other times Angie incorporated his name into her
instruction, not to call upon him, but to re-engage his attention, as when she addressed the
whole group with an explanation: “We said, ‘Kevin already had,’ meaning it’s already
past, so we call it, Dustin, past tense.” Other disengaged behavior during whole group
lessons included being distracted by the microphone on his desk or looking inside his desk

’

giggling with a peer, whispering to tablemates, watching other students rather than

224

orienting eyes and body to teacher and text, putting his head on his desk, burping, and
yawning.

WWW Many researchers investigating process-
product connections suggest that, given optimum conditions, students may be more highly
engaged during individual seat work than during large group lessons (Good & Brophy,
1978). Based on classroom observations and work products during individual writing
session of Writing Workshop, Marta exhibited high continuity and consistency of task-
relevant behavior, including writing, editing, illustrating, and asking for spelling
assistance. Her work products were often completed, having filled the page and,
occasionally, including an illustration.

Marta wrote a number of stories in her Writing Workshop notebook. Each story, as per
Writing Workshop guidelines quoted above, included the date, and, in the beginning, her
name. A number of stories included titles. Most stories were personal experience stories,
completed in one writing session. Topics included her pets, excursions (carnival,
sleepover, camping, an amusement park), next year in fourth grade, and playing with
friends. Stories never ran over a page in length, and most skipped lines “to get to the
bottom of the page” (interview with Marta). Indeed, in the writing interview in the fall of
the year, Marta talked about her writing strategies.

What do you do first?

I just start out “I.”

You just start out? Okay. You start out “I,” and then what?

And I just write.

Do you plan your ideas on paper, or do you plan them in your head, or do you
just start writing?

I just write.

You just write?
Until I get all the way to the bottom.

33.33 6363-67.?

In fact, Marta mentioned writing “all the way to the bottom” three times in the
interview. She also emphasized that she writes “real” stories.

M: I just write about stuff I know...This is a real story...I have a real dog.
R: You have a real dog. So you write real things.

225

Marta’s “real” stories were, as she said, “about stuff” she knew. These were mostly
descriptive depictions, although one story was a chronological accounting of an event. This
was a typical “real” story:

I will go capin in 2 wecs with my mom and my sister and me. We are going to Being

my Bike too. We are going to go fishing with my dad. We Will go Bike riding with my

dad. The End. (1 will go camping in two weeks with my mom and my sister and me.

We are going to bring my bike too. We are going to go fishing with my dad. We will

go bike riding with my dad. The end.)

Marta’s disengaged behavior during individual writing included talking with other
students about topics other than writing, messing with articles such as pencil Sharpeners, or
doodhng.

flfesk engagement during privete work; Qestjn, Dustin’s task orientation during
individual writing tasks was much more disengaged than engaged and more disengaged
than Marta’s behavior. The only individual writing activity he seemed to enjoy was
keyboarding his text into the computer.

Disengaged behavior included off-topic conversations or giggling with tablemates,
chewing on paper, tapping with his pencil, doodling on the back of his Writing Workshop
notebook, being distracted by the microphone, or looking out the window. On one
occasion, while he was gazing out the window instead of writing, Rhonda approached him
to suggest that he write something new (an author’s choice). A few minutes later, a
paraprofessional suggested that he write about Christmas, assumably a motivating topic.
However, Dustin responded to neither suggestion, and continued to look around the room.
Frequent teacher prompts to encourage Dustin to write included comments similar to, “Are
you supposed to be writing?” or “Dustin, you can get going on yours.”

Where Marta had developed some writing procedures and wrote about familiar topics
(animals and excursions), Dustin’s writing methods seemed to be limited to techniques for
“How to Begin.” This is how he described “How to Begin” in an interview.

RB: So what do you do first?

D: Make a title.
RB: Make a title?

226

D: Then write our name, write the date. And then just start writing. (Fall interview)
In actual fact, only a few of Dustin’s stories had titles and many stories were undated.
His writing process did not include writing to the bottom of the page. In fact, his longest
story was about a half page in length. Sometimes he produced completed stories; however,
more ofien he was not engaged in writing during Writing Workshop, and his stories often
reflected his disengaged behavior in their few words and incomplete texts. It is
understandable that his writing strategies seemed to focus on the problem of spelling. He
used a great deal of invented spelling, but his inventions were less decipherable than
Marta’s.
Do you ever read it to the teacher?
Umm. My response journal I read it to the teacher.
Yeah?
Sometimes when I get big words. I get stuck and I say, “I don’t know those
words,” and I read it to the teacher, and I find the word out.
Ohhh, okay. So when you’re all done writing, what do you do with your paper
or your story?
[inaudible] then I get other student that could take my paper, then teacher’s

conference, I mean student conference, then teacher conference. Then I’m all
done. Then they ask, can I read it? And I always say , “No.”

“$961.?

we

Dustin seemed to understand the process writing sequence used in his classroom, but
his final comment underscored the difficulties he had with reading: “[The teachers] ask, can
I read it [to the class during Author’s Chair]? And I always say, ‘No.”’ (December
interview).

Task engagement can overlap with social interaction when the task is collaborative;
however, in this section I will focus specifically on the roles and relationships that occurred
between teacher and students and between students during whole class text construction in

Morning Message and Writing Workshop.

 

, rti i .. n' n The challenges of whole
group instruction entailed maintaining attention to the task, including following the give and

take of the dialogue, and participating appropriately. Fortunately for students who had

227

difficulties with these challenges, the teachers deployed two scaffolding strategies: (a)
supporting student-initiated bids to enter the conversation, and (b) repairing inappropriate
participation moves (Cooper & Valli, 1996).

Although Dustin’s nomination by Marta to add a sentence to the persuasive paragraph
text was not self-initiated on his part, he was able to make a valued contribution to the

lesson with Rhonda’s on-line and carefully calibrated assistance.

D: Eating lunch.

T: How’s that gonna? Is eating lunch a whole sentence?
D: No.

T: No. Can you make that into a whole sentence?
D: Eating lunch.

T: Tell me what would happen. Food would

D: Eating lunch. At lunchtime

T: At lunchtime, food might

D: Drop

T: Drop on your

D: Uniform.

T: Uniform. And then you would have to what?
D: Clean it.

T' Wash them.

Tiwrites on the board: At lunchtime, food might drop on your uniform, and then you
would have to wash them.

First, Rhonda asked for a whole sentence, but Dustin’s response, “eating lunch,” was
not a whole sentence. She provided further support, “Tell me what would happen” and
then, by repeating his words and rewording when necessary, provided a framework on
which Dustin could hang the parts of the sentence. With Rhonda’s cloze-type verbal
prompting, Dustin was able to compose a sentence to build the continuing dialogue
(Nystrand, 1995).

Angie and Rhonda often repaired student participation efforts. One repair occurred
during the above-referenced Morning Message lesson where Dustin had suggested that
there should be a “he” instead of “Kevin.” Although Dustin’s challenge was appropriate, it
was also unnecessary, because the text was correct as written. However, Angie repaired
his participation in a manner that did several things. It modeled appropriate checking

behavior (“Let’s check it. We alternate, right? Kevin, he, Kevin, he, Kevin”), interpreted

228

Dustin’s behavior with respect to individual learning need (“You’re trying to follow this,”
something Dustin needed to work on), emphasized good writing behavior (“That’s a good
habit to get into, to check things”), and employed an “encouraging” strategy to validate
Dustin’s participation (Vaughn, Bos, & Schumm, 2000).

Another repair involving Dustin occurred during the persuasive writing episode.
Rhonda was seeking reasons why school uniforms might be undesirable, and Dustin
suggested that food might get spilled on the uniforms during lunch. Rhonda countered that
the same thing could happen with ordinary clothes, that somehow they had to make
uniforms be different in a way that was disadvantageous. Dustin thought that the buttons
might fall off when the uniforms were washed. This idea still did not accomplish the task
Rhonda has in mind for this part of the text, but she worked with Dustin’s idea.

T: Dustin, you might spill food on that shirt today. Wouldn’t you wash it? Well,
what’s the difference between that and a uniform? Somehow we gotta make it be
different.

The buttons might fall off when you're washing your clothes.

Hm?

The buttons might come off.

Oh, you’ll have to wash them too often? Oh, now that’s another, and if things start
falling off and if they wear out? There’s something we didn’t think about.

That could go with the buying one.
Could go with buying one up there too, couldn’t it. Good thinking.

r715? 37393-39.

Rhonda repaired Dustin’s comment so that it made sense in the context. By so doing,
she reduced the risk for students with learning disabilities to enter the conversation.

These examples illustrate teacher-student interactions during whole group lessons. Both
Angie and Rhonda expected and encouraged such participation. Rhonda stated her
expectations as she prepared students for one of the persuasive writing lessons.

R: Okay, desk tops cleared off. Eyes up here. Feet on the floor. Sitting up. Your best
participating position.

W What was interesting about this classroom

was that student participation in whole group participation structures was not limited to
speaking and listening, as the traditional I-R-E interaction (Cazden, 1988) might suggest. A

particularly interesting method of oral participation evokes Bakhtin’s (1986) notion of

229

“heteroglossia,”or speaking with multiple voices. Students in the inclusion classroom
literally spoke through their peers. This was called “helping.” In the following excerpt from
the persuasive text composing activity referenced in this chapter, Qi, an English language
learner, had raised her hand to respond to the teacher’s question, but needed some help.
The following sequence begins with Rhonda offering a prompt to help Qi.

T: ...What’s the other part we’re going to use for our reasoning, in writing our

persuasive article?
Cassie whispers to Qi.

Qi: Core democratic values.

T: Okay, a little help from a friend.

Rhonda acknowledged the “little help” from Cassie without additional comment, thus
accepting the interaction. In another classroom, Cassie’s action might have been considered
a pre-empting of Qi’s bid to speak. However, in this context, Qi might not have attempted a
response in the first place without the security of this safety net.

In the following segments, the helping continued. Mark (a student with learning
disabilities), Shenie (an average-performing student), and Kenton (a low-performing
general education student) were helped.

T: And our last thing we would put in our paper would be?

Mark has raised his hand, but hesitates. Ned and Kevin both whisper: Core
democratic values.

Mark: Core democratic values.

T: Core democratic values. Everybody tell me the initials.

Group: CDV.

Ned’s assistance enabled Mark to contribute to the activity, and Rhonda incorporated
Mark’s contribution into her review sequence just as if he had said the answer without
help. The same type of “helping” occurred in the next two segments.

T: ...Sherrie, the first one.

Sherrie hesitates. Student whispers to Sherrie: Clear position.
Sherrie: Clear position?

It * *
T: ...Number 3... Kenton?
Danny leans over and whispers to Kenton: Prior social studies knowledge.
T: Well, part of me says I don’t mind the help because that’s the community
thing. What is it, Kenton?
K: Prior social studies knowledge.

230

Such ad hoc sharing of response opportunity (what in another classroom might be
called “sharing of answers” and, as such, a form of cheating) was common in the Watkins
inclusion classroom and not surprising in light of the community metaphor appropriated by
the teachers. However, Rhonda did, on one occasion, acknowledge this unusual practice
when she said, “Well, part of me says I don’t mind the help because that’s the community
thing.” This statement implied an uneasiness about her own view of this “helping”
behavior. When the “helping” occurred again, Rhonda provided both a boundary on
“helping” and an explanation of its purpose.

T: Okay. I saw a lot of helping going on, and sometimes, if we don’t want that help,
teachers should remember to say, “Okay, I’m going to ask a question and you can’t
help.” Other than that, I think if people are helping each other, that’s a good thing to
do. In fact, as far as social studies goes, that’s about what we all want you to start
doing and do all the rest of your life, is to help people, so why should we tell you
not to help people now. Just doesn’t make sense to me. So thank you for all that
help from everyone.

Rhonda clarified when “helping” may be appropriate and when not. According to her
explanation, “helping” would not be appropriate if the teachers had requested no helping.
However, there is an interesting subtext in Rhonda’s comments. Her remarks reflect both
her personal belief about community (“We all want you...all the rest of your life...to help
people”) and her awareness of societal conventions regarding what constitutes cheating
(“Why should we tell you not to help people now. Just doesn’t make sense to me”). Thus
Rhonda’s comments indicate her awareness of alternate interpretations of their classroom
practice of “helping” and a sense of unease that her own interpretation of “helping” might
be construed as something else by others.

Where the above incidences of ad hoc helping were allowed, another kind of helping
was more formally established in classroom practice. In this type of helping, students could
call on someone else to speak for them. Marta did this (the incident is described above)
during the whole class session, as she had done earlier in the year in other contexts. As

Marta sat without speaking, Rhonda went into repair mode.

T: You want a sentence about clothes getting dirty and or how much they cost?

231

What were you thinking? Do you want to make a sentence about getting dirty?
Okay. We may be able to put these two together. And we may need to add this
one on in here somewhere. Marta, do you have a sentence about them getting
dirty? What is it?/////

T: Someone help Marta? Marta, choose somebody to help you in your sentence
about getting dirty...
Marta: Dustin.

Rhonda’s verbal prompt, “What were you thinking?” was not an accusation, but a
probe into Marta’s thinking. Not knowing what Marta’s thoughts were, Rhonda suggested
several ideas that would fit into the paragraph being constructed. All Marta was required to
do was use one of the ideas. Rhonda would see to the coherence and appropriateness of the
response by fashioning Marta’s idea into a usable statement. However, Marta remained
silent, so Rhonda suggested that she call on someone to help her, an involvement move
common in this classroom.

As observer, I sensed that Rhonda was at times unsure herself of how to construct the
text. Her uncertainty showed in her false starts and appeals to students to repeat their ideas.
This willingness to risk an unauthoritative role (i.e., not having all the answers) and to
model writing dilemmas in the text construction process was a clear demonstration that
decision making, was open to all, teacher and students alike. Even though Rhonda was the
scribe, students seemed to understand their latitude to contribute to and shape the text. The
teacher-student relationships during text construction were characterized by reciprocity and
the idea of distributed knowledge (Brown et al., 1993). Rhonda’s visible struggle with the
text reflected her belief that it was okay to be vulnerable. In their classroom world, no
individual, including teachers, held all of the expertise. Everyone had areas of strength and
weakness. Roles of expert and novice could be interchangeable. Responsibility for text
construction was distributed among all community members, along with the accompanying
right to challenge the ideas and suggestions of others, including the teacher.

5'” 'E'Slli 1M]
Because the nature of the tasks undertaken by small groups was collaborative, in this

section I consider roles and interpersonal relationships during small group work. The

232

whole class text construction phase of the persuasive writing sequence was also of a
collaborative nature, but it was different than small group collaboration because any
particular student was less “on-call” during the whole-group activity, and interactions were
subject to teacher supervision. Because 25 students had to take turns speaking, much of the
participation during whole class lessons was necessarily observation rather than speaking.
Small group activity, on the other hand, was more dense in the sense that frequency of
participation was much greater. Additionally, interactions necessarily were less teacher-
regulated, because the teacher could not supervise all groups at once.

Several models for small group collaboration have been researched and developed.
Cooperative learning models (Johnson & Johnson, 1999) encourage the assignment of
various roles for the group members: encourager, materials getter, timer, writer, and so on.
Although small group work was common in this classroom, it was generally implemented
on an ad hoc basis. Specific social norms for the organization of small group work, such as
those associated with the cooperative leaming model, were not well-established, although
general principles of social interaction were publicly recognized, such as not teasing or
yelling. Thus, students were largely on their own during the persuasive writing sequence to
develop relationships within their groups that the teachers hoped would allow their work to
continue and to involve everyone in the group.

WWW Small group participation structures offered new challenges
for Marta. Ifthe challenge during whole class instruction was to remain oriented and
attentive to instruction, the challenge for Marta during small group collaboration was to find
a role in the group activity. Five students made up Marta’s group, four boys and Marta.
Two students, Danny and Arnold, were excellent writers. Marta and Cory were special
education students, and Kenton was a low functioning general education student. Their
assignment was to develop and write a persuasive essay on the topic of soccer goals at the
school. The five students were expected to jointly compose a single text. This task included

taking turns doing the writing. At the beginning of the first small group session related to

233

persuasive writing, it was evident that Marta desired an opportunity to write and foresaw
that she might not receive one. She unhappily pointed her pencil at Danny and Arnold as
she spoke.

Marta: Just you write. All [inaudible].

Danny: That’s because we know how to spell better.

Amold: I know how to spell better.

Marta: Why are you taking over the paper?

Danny: We spell gooder. We spell better.

Marta’s “Just you write” was not a request or a command. She was in effect saying,
“You are the only ones who get to write.” Although Marta wanted to have a turn at writing,
she was excluded from the role of writer because she was positioned by Danny, who, with
Arnold, assumed leadership roles in the group, as not having adequate spelling skills for
the task. Marta seemed to equate writing with a leadership role as she observed that Danny
and Arnold were “taking over” the paper. Marta apparently believed that possession of the
paper defined, for the moment, who was the leader in the group.

During the writing session, the matter of who got to write came up again. This time
Marta was not seeking to write, but she unveiled the inequities in the group by naming the
students who did not have opportunities to write and challenged the two boys who she
claimed denied them this opportunity.

Arnold: You two [Cory and Kenton], you guys barely even get any chances to write.

Marta: You two [Danny and Arnold] don’t let ‘em.

Arnold: They don’t ask for it.

Danny: And then you have to cry, and you’ll say we get to write all the time.

It was unclear why Arnold mentioned only Cory and Kenton as not having chances to
write, when it seemed painfully obvious to the observer that Marta also was denied the
opportunity to be the writer. Because of my familiarity and history with this classroom and
Marta, I knew she had writing skills. Later in the persuasive writing sequence, after both
Arnold and Danny had had turns to write, Kenton took a turn as scribe. In the social
hierarchy of the group, Kenton was likely the third in line, after Arnold and Danny and

above Marta and Cory, the least skilled writers in the group. One might assume that this

234

hierarchy was established because the task called for a written product, and there were only
two accomplished writers in the group, and wonder whether judgements of worth would
have been differently decided had the task required some other skill, such as singing, for
instance.

At one point Kenton, the third-in-line scribe, needed to know how to spell the word
“because.” Marta immediately offered her help, pointing to the Word Wall, a list of words
high on the wall: “It’s up there! B-e-c—a-u-s-e.” Marta’s writing strategies included finding
and using environmental resources to support her writing. Danny, however, again thwarted
her attempt to play a contributing role in the group, when he accused, “See, you’re like,
oh, argh, she’s diggin’ up her nose again!”

Still Marta assumed responsibility for monitoring the activities of group members and
challenging them: “You’re not supposed to write on paper on your desk.” “You guys ain’t
working.” She attempted to remain connected with the group activity even if participation
meant only keeping track of the progress of the text by looking at the text or at the group’s
web. Throughout the several sessions of text composition, when she was assured no
further active role in either writing or spelling, she continued to exhibit a sense of
ownership for the group’s product. When Danny and Arnold disagreed over the wording
of a sentence Danny was writing, they began to struggle over who had the paper. Marta
responded by threatening that if they did not stop their struggle, she would intervene: “You
guys rip the paper, I’m going to rip your butts...You guys are crunching it up...You’re
ripping the paper...See, they were crumpling up the paper. They were going to rip it.” The
last two utterances, beginning with “See...” were addressed to a teacher who had
approached.

Overall, in this particular series of text composing events, although Marta exhibited a
strong sense of ownership over the task and sought to remain engaged with the activity,
she was pushed aside. She attempted to engage in the activity by actually writing text or by

offering spelling assistance. Marta recognized these opportunities for engagement, and

235

attempted to exploit them for herself, but was prevented from doing so to her satisfaction.
Marta’s challenge of the inequities in the group may have come from a strong sense,
internalized from her long history with Angie and Marta, that everyone can participate. It
can be argued, however, that some of Marta’s difficulties may have stemmed from her
presence as the only female in a group of males. Gender has the potential to position group
members, enabling some and silencing others (Evans, 1997).

We may assume that task engagement is related to academic learning. Social
interactions involved in the same task can lead to another goal for students with learning
disabilities in inclusion classrooms: “blending.” Blending could be another word for
inclusion. However, because the term “inclusion” may have different meanings (Keefe,
1998), I propose defining blending as a classroom condition wherein special education
students are undifferentiated in every way en the basis of their disability elassifieatiee.
Differentiation may occur based on other criteria that are applied to all group members
without destroying the blended status of special education students. The slogan, “different,
but not disabled,” illustrates what I believe to be a blended condition. Blending must
include both academic and social aspects.

Putting students together in small groups without direct and explicit instruction on how
the group is to interact does not always lead to blending. Although a casual observer might
have concluded that all students in the classroom were engaged and interactive, and would
undoubtedly been unable to identify which students were special education students, a
closer look at these interactions provides indications that while the classroom looks
“blended,” one must also consider whether blending has actually occurred for the student in
this particular time and this particular place.

As we have seen, Marta had difficulty with blending into the small group, primarily due
to her marginalization by another member of the group, Danny. Danny’s goal seemed to be
to exclude Marta from making a meaningful contribution to the group. He used knowledge

of Marta’s academic weaknesses to position her in a “one down” position

236

(Tannen, 1986). When Kenton asked Arnold how to spell a word, Marta entered the
conversation by seeking to align herself against Kenton, another struggling writer.

Marta to Danny: (Derisively) He [Kenton] doesn’t know how to spell it!

Danny: He can spell better than you. He’s in a bigger spelling group.
Kenton to Marta: Yeah, and you’re [inaudible] in second.

Marta: No, I ain’t.

Danny: Yes, you are.

Marta: Shut up.

Danny, however, persisted in placing Marta in a one down position. This was followed
by more discussion about who was in which reading group. To prove that Marta was a
poor speller, Danny and Arnold rapidly fired some words at her which she could not spell.
Rather than fight back, Marta put her head down on her arms on her desk. This exchange
ended Marta’s attempts to assume a key role in the construction of the text.

Danny even used Angie and Rhonda’s classroom language to insure Marta’s low
position in the group.

Danny: Marta, it’s your time to participate.

Marta I am.

Danny: No, you’re not...Now participate! Especially you, Marta...Just saying you’re

participating and then not participating.

Angie and Rhonda frequently talked to the students about participation. Danny
appropriated this language to use against Marta. Danny’s statement, “Marta, it’s your time
to participate,” was not an invitation. In fact, at that moment, Kenton was writing with
Amold’s assistance for spelling, so that both the writing and spelling functions were being
fulfilled. Aside from writing and assisting the writer, there were no opportunities for
participation other than waiting and watching the writer. Danny’s provocation was just that.

In fact, Danny seemed to take delight in excluding Marta from the activity, even using
teacher language to make his pronouncements authoritative. Commenting on this
interaction, Angie later said that Danny, in his first year with the class, had not yet learned
the community ethos, in fact, was a sort of failure in that respect. Marta eventually dealt

with her exclusion by disengaging herself from the activity. She played with several small

erasers while three of the boys did the writing, and chatted about lunch and other topics.

237

Marta saw herself as part of the activity and the community, but was denied the opportunity
for active participation in the actual work of the group. To her credit, she never left the
group physically or socially. She stayed with the group, apparently continuing to see
herself as a member of the collaboration. This, according to Angie, was a sign of growth
and positive development for Marta, who in earlier years might have withdrawn in tears.

Destin; Making it mine, Dustin’s group exhibited a set of dynamics that were also
difficult for members to deal with. This group had a natural leader in the person of Ryan,
an extremely outspoken and bright student who sometimes found it difficult to share
decision-making responsibilities with others in the group. Dustin’s group was composed of
four boys and, after the second small group session, two girls. Dustin and Andre were
special education students, Qi was a second language student, and Della was an average-
perfonning general education student. During the first session, Ryan took the lead in
composing the topic sentences dealing with the quest for soccer goals. Dustin and the
others did not object to his taking the lead in this way.

After the topic sentences had been composed, the writing role passed to Qi, as per the
class norm of taking turns. Ryan, however, continued to guide and monitor the
construction of text, as well as oversee turn taking. After being cautioned by the teacher to
“make sen; Andre and Dustin are contributing,” Ryan addressed Andre, “Andre, it’s your
turn to come up with a sentence.” However, Ryan did not stop there; he also suggested

what Andre might say for his turn.

Ryan: Like a reason we should get soccer goals, like without soccer goals people
cheat, like that.

Andre: People cheat because um

Ryan: They say they get goals when they really don’t. Write that down. Good
idea.

Andre: That was my idea.

Qi to Ryan: Actually, that was your idea.
Ryan asked Andre to take a turn, but retained tight control over the content of the
suggestion, even complimenting himself on his own good idea: “Good idea.” Next, Dustin

claimed a turn for contributing a sentence he had in mind. Ryan, however, insisted that

238

they all should contribute to the sentence.

Dustin: Now it’s my turn. We should have soccer goals, because every time we make

Ryan: N%?§o, it’s all of us. Because every time we make a goal the other team says

we didn’t?

Dustin: No, I know mine. Because every time we make a goal the ball rolls and rolls

and rolls and nobody will [inaudible] and rolls and rolls and then it goes in the

Ryan: WEE: we kick the ball write when we kick the ball the ball goes really far and

it takes a long time to get it.

Dustin understood that when it was his turn to compose a sentence, he could use his
own idea. Ryan’s insistence that “No, no, it’s all of us” who get to decide the content of a
sentence, was a bit self serving, since he had brooked no interference with the topic
sentences he had just composed. However, Dustin asserted his right to contribute his own
idea (“No, I know mine”). A sort of functional compromise was reached between these
competing bids for the right of decision making when Dustin allowed his idea to be restated
by Ryan, who improved the sentence while retaining Dustin’s ideas. Thus, the sentence
reflected the input of both boys. Despite what seemed an auspicious beginning, Dustin
spent the rest of the session overtly disengaged. He whispered to Ricky about what the
microphone can hear. He and Andre talked while Ricky wrote. He told Andre and another
student about a butterfly he caught. He made a game of pronouncing Andre’s name.

Ryan was not adept at involving his peers in the activity in collaborative ways. The
structure of the activity did not lend itself to continuous involvement, as only one out of
four group members could write at one time. There might have been opportunities for
collaboration on spelling issues, but Ryan was not a person who required such assistance.

Negotiation of text, in this group, usually meant that Ryan sought support for his idea,

rather than seeking ideas from other group members, as in the following exchange

Ryan: Watkins should have soccer goals because it will make soccer more fun.
No response, so he writes the sentence. Then he suggests a second
sentence.

Ryan: How about, we should get soccer goals because more people wanted
them?

Dustin: Yeah.
Ryan writes. He suggests a third sentence.

239

Ryan: How about we say that our friend went to school with soccer goals, and it

was real fun?

Dustin: I don’t care, Ryan.

Andre: Yeah.

Ryan to Qi: You want to?

Qi shrugs.

Ryan: Okay.

He writes the sentence.

With Ryan’s strong leadership, engagement opportunities were limited, other than
taking a turn at writing. Insisting on his right to write or to compose text, in this situation,
required Dustin to display a large amount of energy, initiative, and risk-taking. Dustin did
challenge Ryan, but most of the time it was just easier to let Ryan take the lead.

Dustin’s chance to take the lead by assuming the writing task came several days later
when the group met again to work on their essay. Ryan, feeling he was being “picked on,”
had left the group and not returned. The writing task fell to Dustin.

Dustin, however, was not the leader Ryan had been. He was an individual who
enjoyed the social opportunities provided by small group interaction, whether the
interaction was around text or entered into for other reasons. Dustin aroused a heightened
degree of social interaction within the framework of the academic task by playfully
engaging with other members of the group. The task was to write the PSSK (prior social
studies knowledge) paragraph. Dustin wrote the sentence,“Qi has soccer goals.” Qi
protested: “That ain’t true!” Now the game was on. It was a contest between Dustin’s
playful invention of “fact” and Qi’s insistence on fidelity to reality. Dustin revised the
sentence to read, “Qi has a soccer goal at home,” and then, “Qi has two soccer goals at
home.” This increasing license with factual information stopped the task in progress; Qi felt
misrepresented and could not let this rest. Dustin enjoyed these types of language games,
and he enjoyed the social interchange this disagreement created, resulting in much off-task
behavior of the group. It took the teacher’s direct and concrete intervention, including

actually writing some of the text, to finally get the group back on task.

This episode was complex. At least three factors were at play in the interactional

240

sequences involving Dustin and his peers. First, the teacher expected students to use
personal experiences of selves or friends as prior social studies knowledge. An example
might be, “My friend’s school has soccer goals, so they don’t have to argue about whether
a goal was made or not.” Thus, in a sense, Dustin was following the preferred mode! by
citing a friend’s situation. Whether or not it was true was not a representation issue for
Dustin, who did not care whether it was true; rather, it was a social interaction issue, a way
to provoke response. Second, this exercise was, in truth, a combination of reality and
realistic fiction. Teachers and students really did want and need soccer goals at Watkins,
and some students knew other students whose schools had soccer goals; however, Rhonda
and the class invented the survey data they cited, because they did not have time to go
through the whole process of writing, doing, and analyzing a survey. Rhonda’s object for
the lesson was to focus on the writing genré. Thus, Dustin’s making up a story about Qi
might have worked for the immediate purposes of learning the persuasive genré, or of
rapidly completing the task, if Qi had agreed to go along with the scheme. Dustin’s
awareness of the looser fidelity required of the text was evident in his statement, “It’s make
believe...We ain’t sending it to the governor or not...We’re not sending it to the school
board.” Third, Dustin was often playful with his peers, enjoying a playful and friendly
tease. Thus, this can also be seen as a teasing episode. At any rate, Rhonda eventually
came over and canceled the “Qi has soccer goals” idea, substituting other text.

Dustin’s role as temporary group leader involved writing the group-composed text. It
also included monitoring the progress of the task, as indicated by his comments of, “What
else?” and “See, we done.” Later in this session, when Rhonda asked all of the groups
about their progress, Dustin urged his group in another scheme, without success, to say
that they were finished with their paragraph when he and they knew that they were not.

As temporary person-in-charge by virtue of being the writer, Dustin fulfilled some of
the academic requirements of the task before them by writing text and monitoring the

group’s progress. He also attended to the social possibilities of the situation, employing

241

academic means to initiate social interactions (i.e., using invented information to arouse and
engage Qi in personal interaction). He also participated in non-academic reasons for social
interaction by holding a brief conversation with Qi and Della about bangs, hair, and
teachers’ ages.

Although small group collaborative structures seemed problematical for Marta and
Dustin on one level, there were some positive aspects of these associations. First, the small
group participant structure afforded social opportunities unavailable in the Ellison
classroom. Both risks and rewards were attached to this structure, and we have noted the
risks. However, when the collaborations were successful, the potential for rewards, in
terms of making valued contributions and being accepted as group member, were large.
Second, the small group collaborations indicated a direction on the road toward
community. Closer attention to task instructions, student preparation, and the nature of the
teacher role may have moderated adverse outcomes (Cohen, 1994). Angie and Rhonda
commented, in their final teacher interview, about the restraining effect of too little
classroom space on these kinds of collaborative opportunities. They had not been able to
include as many of these experiences in their instructional activities this year.

W The mediating artifacts and their influence on the academic
and social interactions of the persuasive writing episode differed with the various
participation structures. Several issues pertain here. First, different participation structures
differentially influenced students’ access to the artifact. During whole class lessons, the
artifact (i.e., the jointly-composed text posted on large chart paper or the chalkboard) was
ostensibly available to all. However, some students might be more able than others to work
and interact with text within that participation structure. For example, when students were
involved in the co-construction of text under the direction of the teacher, the mediating talk
tended to be very rapid and tightly linked to previous utterances and topical threads.
Therefore, making a coherent contribution to the dialogue required close attention to the

progress of the conversation. However, Rhonda mitigated possible difficulties by asking

242

the class to reread the text with her. For Marta and Dustin, the rereadings of the text
provided access to the text and to the interactions occurring during the construction of that
text.

Access issues might also be critical during small green eellaeeratiens. In this
participation structure, low performing students, such as Marta and Dustin, might have
difficulty accessing the material artifact, the group-constructed text, because one or two of
the higher performing members of the group assumed authoritative roles that determined
possession and control of both the artifact and the rules surrounding its construction. Marta
desired access to the text. She wanted to have a turn to write, which was denied her. Marta
was in a particularly difficult situation, because even her attempts just to look at the text
were made difficult.

Marta: I was just trying to look at the paper.
Danny: You think messing with that is trying to look at the paper?

Danny was devastatingly thorough in his ongoing refusal to allow Marta status in the
group. He even used community norms as weapons against her involvement: “You should
be participating.”

.0 ..- 'r : {H.111 0.. ' o : L'HOriniiVi , .0 k’M .. ..m in. it An
important object of instruction in this classroom was that students should be able to
accomplish tasks independently. Whole class lessons and modeling and small group
collaborations were considered to be scaffolds toward this goal. Evaluating levels of social
interaction during individual work was difficult without the verbal interaction that often
offers a window for seeing what the individual is attending to and understanding the nature
of his or her interaction.

Although students were expected, during individual writing task, to produce their own
product, peer interactions were allowed and encouraged. Thus, ad hoc associations were
entered into, usually with peers close by, such as at the same table, and lasted for a short

time, usually until support was no longer needed for the problem or situation encountered.

243

These ad hoc associations represented another type of subject relationship as the
participants used each other’s resources to mediate their task. One such ad hoc association
was the one described above, where Jenny and Marta engaged in several exchanges over
Jenny’s Easter bunny story.

Dustin entered into these ad hoc associations less often; in fact, I have no videotaped
examples of his doing so. He seemed eager to write what he knew and be finished; crafting
extended text into a meaningful text was not a goal for Dustin. He just wanted to be done.
He still had not received the meta-message of the lesson. Dustin’s example illustrates the
necessity of longitudinal studies of individual development. This was his first year in this
community of learners. If his academic progress followed the pattern of other students with
learning disabilities in this classroom, his second year would show significant academic
gains.

Students’ access to material text during the individual writing episodes of Writing
Workshop lessons could occur at any moment, because students working individually were
in control of their text. In these contexts, students were not required to negotiate with their
peers for the right to control the content, the process of text construction, or the material
artifact itself. In fact, students might even retain control despite teachers’ requested access,
as in the following episode involving Marta during an earlier free-choice Writing
Workshop. Rhonda stopped by Marta’s desk to check on what she was writing and asked,
“Can you think of something to write?” Marta, however, made no reply, and Rhonda left.
As soon as she was gone, Marta, subvocalizing the while, wrote the word “I” and
continued to write and say the words as she wrote. In charge of her text, she had shielded it
even from the teacher.

IN . . E l . _ I I

As a general and gross measure of literacy skill, Marta’s and Dustin’s SORT-R scores

indicated that we might expect Marta to be working at an approximate second grade level

and Dustin at a pre-primer level. Indeed, examination of their writing conventions as

244

exhibited in writing samples and the pretest and posttest writing measures administered
might corroborate this prediction. Writing measures provided a far point measure of writing
skill transfer, because the measures were decontextualized from current writing activity.
Two writing measures were administered as pretests and posttests representing two distinct
genres: expert (expository text) and personal narrative. Marta at the beginning of the year,
in the expert and personal narrative measures, wrote 63 and 50 words respectively (see
Figures 16 and 17). She spelled approximately two-thirds of the words correctly in both
measures. Examination of other writing conventions reveals little use of punctuation,
probably due to run-on sentences; however, most sentences begin with capitals letters and
most of the words are written in the lower case. In the pretests, Marta numbered the lines in
both written texts. Little use of voice (defined as attention to audience and communication
of personality through dialogue, humor, and personal opinion) is apparent in either genré.
Posttests in the two genre's, with 80 and 49 words respectively (see Figures 18 and
19), show an increase in the ratio of invented to conventional spelling (1:7 and 1:5,
respectively). She did not number the lines. Her use of conventions was at approximately
the same level as the pretests. The use of voice was more apparent in the posttests. Marta
exhibited voice by saying that something is “fun,” that her dog is “nice to people,” and
commenting that “I always am in first place” in the game she played on the computer.
Evidence of editing in Marta’s writing, both writing samples and writing measures,
demonstrates inconsistent attempts to edit. Some of the editing evident in Marta’s work,
according to Angie and Rhonda, was peer editing. Interestingly, the personal narrative
pretest showed multiple instances of editing that involved changing the spelling of “frend”
to “frand,” and changing lower case “and” at the beginning of sentences to upper case. On
several occasions in her classroom writing she used an arrow to indicate indentation at the
beginning of a story; however, this practice was inconsistent and not used in the writing
measures. The arrow reflected an editing move often modeled during Morning Message.

Use of the arrow first appeared in Marta’s Writing Workshop notebook in November, on a

245

.fBOS

a: ..EPG .m- Lhasa-«ESL, -oe..m->§?--L-.-3 Q
. - -..m.S>oo.-H..r

G r ...---.j no.4-.. -Gflmrrm. -.Ndwrrmwmra tour; s

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. Nauurm
..--thGUHOBR--mEUO--.&.JUmD-.-w©1\«Em e
.. .. r S. ...-m- .2 r9. .. rim-Md»- . H.990.- -MVS EELS-E-»

 

Nata-“he -..ggpoi b --m$5-§flE-:
x oi..ENG-214.36.--rfi&i§k31%+wm

--mG.c. ----fries.-- ebu.m----;®3®wo
..... ...---mfitl DeB-..b--mx-,.e¥zw._

U r (:19 win

 

 

 

 

gs Gas—v3.02 Emma

Eigurele, Marta’s expert pretest.

246

 

 

 

 

  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

..................... w----------------um~
.............. gamma- L. E. - .635“ «more - Mme
llllll Norma—:3 I I L lat haM/emxwwwmv I bm
-ensmca-amar-mbemeneeo-emm-omawa-mem-emwd
and?as-Lanes-om-we-Ree-gdweae-raem-e-wesm
- E E - ...-H...“ - 26% Sam- .m. LEE - Em - 3%- LE?
-amwe-mame-odemae-re-e>o-damn-mmw-awW.-e,

EVAN! W NEE i Ewen:

>m m3mz 032:0: “u: h30m< m5:

Figure 17. Marta’s personal narrative pretest.

247

 

..... s “outliers-.ms- 56.5 0+ 39$ 6. was.

germane. .4de fl eeéwiumeimr .81.-er mm.

"ll'l'-

 

. we. L wwnnw -6 Mars. .s er haw .3). km .GLQ- . ..o-4.. . ..Lronr

 

 

 

 

- l- _ _
new a... a - ...E a. .- L... ,....E - .cefl - Em. - M..- - he; .. .. whom-a.
- -. .0... - -. Mew-p..- - a. - ..o; .. - Ema-E - -..o-swam.- - L ...o-..o.
- 8... ME .....sEem- «an e.- .. ME .. Es.- - E E - .. are.

 

Es whim +30 ”toffee me; E. s8 \FL

 

 

 

 

 

 

at be... he. - -m mm»- - H .. L- E. .. -e- Loe- .. ..sbm ..
r- . _ L :.
l r - o... . _ .. )5 ._ ..fi .- .
-. - BE.- - i ...o-mom. - - Mahatma ..eh... - be .. - MN.- .. MW
% O l. N .Nrnu. min mmzofi»
>m "mac-:2 mma<am>>mz .Emaxw

 

Eigmelfi, Marta’s expert posttest.

248

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\ oust ’ . , L
..mo: .nuunauk\k.%run .. 1M..- .. r&&\..6u®n .. .. mhnf u cm,» .. [mun .. “,..” ..
Ewan. u Wmficmm. .. NEW: u Wm n a Wuamnwwufirmwg. .. ..Mnnsmr ..ME

 

 

 

 

 

.8 -m m. r m 9:3 I 5303:.
- E «in: 02.25: nm... 503 mam:

 

Ejgmejfl. Marta’s personal narrative posttest.

249

story which was peer edited. It may be that Marta appropriated the arrow strategy from
either or both Morning Message or peer use of the arrow.

Regarding genre characteristics, the expository pretest was not in the expert genre',
because it was an account of her dog and how he wakes her parents in the middle of the
night with his barking. In the posttest text Marta began to develop an expert stance. The
text was again about a dog; however, a trace of expository genré can be detected in her
account of how she must feed the dog, take it to the bathroom, put it on a chain, and of the
toys the dog has. Although it was a first person text, this list of responsibilities might
provide content for a piece with a more expository stance.

Marta matched personal narrative genré relatively well. This may have reflected her
general choice of personal narrative genré during Writing Workshop lessons that provided
choice. However, her narrative style was quite descriptive, and did not include
chronological accounts of events. Indeed, in all of her “regular” Writing Workshop texts
and these two writing measures, only one text related an event in chronological order. That
text described an event where, when she saw a rabbit jumping, she became frightened, ran
into the house, and looked out the window to discover that the rabbit had gone.

Overall, Marta wrote meaningful text in individual tasks. Her handwriting was clear
and her invented spelling was decipherable. She showed emergent signs of editing and
attention to capitalization and punctuation. She seemed to be discovering the dialogicality of
text and its usefulness for communication. Because of the instrumentation used in this
study, we cannot say for certain what Marta appropriated from the rich literacy environment
in which she was immersed, and environment that provided both verbal and written
resources. We may surmise that she was strategic in her spelling (use of the Word Wall and
invented spelling) and in her accomplishment of writing tasks (put the date, write to the
bottom of the page, answer the teacher’s questions). An evaluation of Marta’s writing
behavior that would capture her thought processes by recording verbal interactions or self-

talk would provide a richer and more complex picture of what she was able to appropriate

250

from the writing instruction provided for her. Such data would also assist in developing
our understanding of possible connections between instruction and achievement for
students with learning disabilities. Marta as a participant in the study might have been a
less-than-ideal choice for providing such data, because she did not talk much and was not
involved in partner writing which might have engendered interactions revealing her thought
processes.

Dustin tended to write what he knew over and over again with as few words as
possible. His expert and personal narrative pretests contained 11 and 26 words,
respectively (See Figures 20 and 21). He spelled about two-thirds of the words
conventionally; however, his choice of words included many basic sight words that he
knew how to spell: my, dog, and, he, can, I, the. Use of mixed cases is evident, and little
or no use of punctuation. Dustin exhibited little use of voice; the only voice he gained was
by using the first person in both pieces.

Posttests in the two genres, with 48 and 53 words respectively (see Figures 22 and
23), show a large increase in fluency and a slight increase in the use of conventional
spelling. Indeed, one would not expect such fluency from Dustin based on his scant texts
in both writing samples and response journal entries throughout the year. Use of writing
conventions (capitalization and punctuation) remained at approximately the same level.
However, his use of voice was remarkably higher in the posttests. In each posttest, he
addressed his audience through the use of questions (“Do you like soccer?”) or direct
appeals (“Guess how they make balloons”). He also used opinion and implied “you,” as
in, “Do you pick up the ball.” The only use of editing was the use of an arrow to indicate
indentation in the personal narrative posttest.

Dustin was able to match the genre’ quite well in both expert and personal narrative in
three of the writing measures. In his expert posttest, he assumed an expert stance as he

described rules and conventions with respect to playing soccer. In his personal narrative

251

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

:0-

 

INWN ”We

 

Emzo<mh

fi..0:.¢< Ema<am3mz hmmaxm

EM Dustin’ s expert pretest.

252

nllll'l‘ll|""l|lvlll"..l'|'|'|"lll||""l|'

 

 

 

 

rikabuimcgiigriwqt i on .0-

t 2 5::

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fl? I Q amt GEE 5qu

Figure 21. Dustin’s personal narrative pretest.

253

0.5sz 69% 60 QI/mOfl 301w

 

..-..r+iie+bmi-.finflrfifx .3” >4}---

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

F igurg 22. Dustin’s expert posttest.

254

 

 

"l""""|'l"'II"I"III"III"""II"'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

./ ~ tr Iltvéwu+vixow FF\D lull
. ......... fibkt: E6?-.§.M ........
... .......... film? ..... m Mommiwet fil
MES 1
>0 303.5 Gun—(aw; "N was

255

 

 

 

 

 

 

mh----n..n.m---4.afik. ....... A. + ...............

 

 

 

 

4 - .1- r - ll » mAl r

ma..m........m..ym-:..§- - ......e ..... .. ii---

15 .236 C 6 I. lead

Asumwir—Mzflhrr irrrIUMSMII:NuI.xfikrulrrrusflrlk lllll

nurnwmmnwranflurflufiinruurarmmdc iiiiii fl a c u N u _ uni..-
(86.5.0 @332

 

MEwifi+iim.so.---n.wa....w ....I .....

i .
of be. .m. .QQ ...... E vamp - .. fl. - - gate ........
- - .- \W
--NE.--Emu.----wwfli---.§mcfi-bEi:

D olkhl‘ K!
'I '-

madmwmcnuh MCI. - - - 6+ .. wcmir W- mm“.

27% E3 muzofip
. E aim: a; "95333!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 23. Dustin’s personal narrative posttest.

256

tests, he selected appropriate content (i.e., personal experiences). The story of his dog
biting his finger was recounted in accurate chronological order, although with little detail.
The circus story was more descriptive than the dog bite story, but did include embedded
temporality in the section about the person who got on the elephant and then his pants fell
down. In fact, both of the posttest pieces, with their respective expert and narrative stances,
respective assumption of authority and embedded temporality, and attention to audience in
both, provide excellent examples of emergent genré writing.

Overall, Dustin presented the image of a developing writer whose skills were at times
unevenly applied to his work, but who was not afraid to experiment with and appropriate
practices and behaviors he observed. Fortunately for Dustin, he was not judged unready to
write by his teachers because of his unclear handwriting and ambiguous spelling, but had
many opportunities to write extended text. It appeared that, in his scanty texts, he had not
yet developed the comfort with writing that his teachers no doubt hoped he would
eventually achieve. However, he seemed to possess a developing sense of genré (response-
question pattern in response journals, authoritative stance for expository, and use of
temporality in narrative). As with Marta, improved instrumentation and appropriate
research activities might provide a richer picture of his use of cognitive and material
resources in his writing.

In this classroom, where teachers encourage the holistic development of writers, that is,
where teachers attend to progress and development of writing skills beyond the evaluation
of spelling and other writing conventions, we see young writers who experiment with
writing practice, who make use of the many resources around them, and who are
developing personal writing strategies that transfer to other writing activities.

WW

Students in this classroom learned writing behavi ors that reflected their membership in

a community of learners. First, writers who are members of a community of learners make

decisions about topic, pace, and stage of writing. When writers write in the real world,

257

they choose their topics. At Watkins, students chose their journal writing topics. Angie
described one student who illustrated what they were looking for in this activity: “With the
response journal,...he wants to tell Mrs. Grant what’s going on. He gets all excited when
he writes to her, and he wrote, look at today’s, he showed it to me, he was real excited.” In
addition to journal writing, students chose topics for their Writing Workshop texts, for
Morning Message texts, and for literature response assignments.

In addition to making topical decisions, effective writers make decisions about pace and
phase of writing. In choosing topics to write about and performing the writing process,
both Angie and Rhonda encouraged students toward the goal of independence. They stated,

I want them to be more independent. I want them to read more independently, write

more independently, work more independently, work in groups. ‘Cause that really is

the ultimate goal. We talk about empowering students. We want to empower them. And
that’s really what it is, we want them to be able to do the kinds of things that we ask
them to do, independently, and do their very best and continue to feel success.

(interview)

Marta and Dustin both made many decisions about their individual writing. Although
they had not yet developed all of the resources that competent writers have at their disposal
when they make decisions, their immersion in the writing practice of this classroom, where
they observed multiple cases of text construction, allowed them to develop the strategies
and skills required for independent practice.

Second, writers in a community of learners solve their writing problems either
individually or by calling upon the expertise of others. Angie and Rhonda encouraged
problem solving when they turned Writing Workshop rule making over to the students. In
this classroom, Writing Workshop is

not teacher-led... Our rules and steps in Writing Workshop are what the students in the

class generate as a whole. So we sit and we brainstorm, what should we be doing,

what would make good quality text, what should we do when we are editing. Our
goal is to revisit it every month or so, so they can add and subtract. A lot of the stuff
we do, we try and make sure the class is making this decision, that this would make
quality writing. (interview)

Angie and Rhonda also encouraged problem solving among peers: “If it’s bothering

them that they might not be able to spell a word, they can get help with that in their group.

258

That’s one of the major supports.” A common problem for special education students
particularly was spelling the words they were trying to write. In the episode above, Marta
was called upon to help Jenny, another special education student, to spell several words.

Third, a good writer spends a lot of time writing. In the Watkins inclusion classroom,
writing was involved in almost all academic activities. During reading instruction, students
were involved in writing activities related to books and literature. Social studies and science
involved writing, and even math required math journal writing, although Angie and
Rhonda said they wanted to expand their math journal writing in the future.

Fourth, a good writer is skilled in multiple genres. Students were expected, not only to
be able to write in one context, but to transfer to and use their skills in multiple contexts.
Thus, they “wrote across the curriculum” and in many genrés, for example, character
study, webbing, poetry, and realistic fiction.

Fifth, a good writer is a part of a community of writers. The inclusion classroom at
Watkins included students from the first through fourth grades. Teachers saw this wide
range of ages and performance levels as a resource for student learning. Veteran students,
who had been in the class during previous years, were called “experts” and were enlisted to
help new students accomplish learning tasks through the use of problem solving and
multiple resources. For example, Angie stated her expectation that students would handle
difficulties with a math assignment by consulting a peer “expert”: “Raise your hand if you
think you need help, and I’ll try to find you an expert” (transcript, Oct. 11).

Veteran students even assumed teaching responsibilities with the teachers. Early in the
year several veteran students, who were familiar with how the teachers had taught poetry
the previous year, not only suggested several poems to learn but also conducted the lesson.
Angie described how Bailey, a special education student, in the role of teacher,
choreographed and directed a class reading of a poem she brought for sharing.

The kids are doing poetry this year, once a week. I mean, kids are doing

poetry...They’re teaching a lesson... Today Bailey brought this one in from a book she
had at home...She said, “Okay, now, this group, you’re gonna do this, read this

259

section, and this group, you’re gonna read this section.” She leads them. (interview)
Members of the writing community may be called upon to assist in problem solving, as
in the Marta and Jenny spelling episode, or provide response to and critique of one
another’s work. Formal occasions for seeking critical response included peer conferences
and teacher conferences during the writing process, and Author’s Chair for disseminating
one’s work. Students found such opportunities, Author’s Chair in particular, to be
motivational for their writing. The teachers noted the motivational aspects of sharing: “It’s a
motivator...They want to be able to share.” Informal occasions for seeking response to
one’s work included ad hoc interactions during the course of any writing session: “They
can talk to others. With a multi-age room, they’re all mixed up together, and they can talk.
We encourage them... In Writing Workshop they talk.”
Not only was community membership a resource for emerging writers, but students in
this classroom were expected to assume responsibilities accruing to community members.
Children that are capable understand pretty quickly that they are expected to help others.
That’s part of being in this community. Not only do you not make fun or anything else.
That, you know, and we do have children come up. Somebody came up to me, I think
somebody came up to me today, said to me, “Can I read alone, I’d rather read alone.” I
said, “No, some people can’t read this. That’s part of our job in this community is to
help other people.” (interview)
At Watkins, the community of learners supported struggling writers such as Marta and
Dustin. However, membership alone in a community of learners does not guarantee
success at every moment. As in any community, members struggle with real issues of

power, authority, access, and participation. How the conflicts are managed and with what

consequences for students with learning disabilities are the issues at hand.

260

 

CHAPTER 6
DISCUSSION: COMMON THREADS ACROSS CONTEXTS AND PRACTICES

This study explored broad questions regarding affordances (i.e., the resources and
opportunities available to students with learning disabilities as they learned and practiced
writing skills), participation (i.e., how students were involved in classroom activities), and
appropriation (i.e., what students learned and were able to do). Resources, opportunities,
involvement, and outcomes help define a student’s classroom experience and what is
learned.

The major theme of this study dealt with relationships between affordances,
participation, and appropriation. When we as educators hope that what we teach will be
learned by students, we are often thinking about our planned curriculum. However,
students also learn the social and cultural Discourses (Gee, 1992) of our classrooms
evidenced in our epistemic stances towards teaching, which, in turn, influence what we
teach and the way we teach it. Therefore, to construct as complete as possible a picture of
students’ learning, research in classrooms must consider affordance, participation, and
appropriation at many different levels, including the official level, the teacher planning
level, the instructional level, and the classroom culture and counter-culture levels
(Richardson & Anders, 1998; Doyle, 1992; Gerhke, Sirotnik, & Knapp, 1992; Gutierrez,
1995)

It should be clear by now that, while these two instructional contexts differed in
interesting and important ways regarding affordances and forms of participation, teachers’
practices exhibited common features, specifically, carefully calibrated attention to individual
learning needs, that caused these classrooms to be good learning places for students with
special needs. In the following sections, writing instruction in the two classrooms is
summarized and compared by examining what was afforded, how students participated,

and what students appropriated. I highlight themes related specifically to the constructs of

261

affordance, participation, and appropriation and generally to effective instruction in
inclusion classrooms.
W'i I . 'IM ill iEE ll

Learning may vary according to the type of curricula and instructional activity afforded
in a particular classroom. Consider the nature of opportunity to learn as addressed by
Brock (1997), who argued that, while early understandings of opportunity to learn
involved time-the amount of time available for teaching and learning and the actual time
that students spend on academic tasks--researchers must also ask, "What counts as an
opportunity for this particular child in this specific context?" As we have seen,
opportunities for learning in the two research classrooms were very different. In this study,
I employed two lenses to investigate the nature of writing activity in classrooms and what
opportunities for learning were afforded to students. The first lens was a wide lens
focusing on opportunities to write and general classroom organization. The second lens
took a finer-grained look at the social structure of writing lesson events. The section on
affordance concludes with an examination of attention to individual learning needs in the
two classrooms and a comment on curriculum design.
Wg'u'gg Opportunities and Classruum Organizatiun

In examining writing instruction and activity, it is important to understand what was
afforded through daily and over-time opportunities for writing, as well as general patterns
of organization of classroom activity that frame students’ activities and interactions. The
discussion of opportunities for writing addresses content of writing activity, purposes for
writing, and features of texts. This will be followed in this section by an examination of
general classroom organization.

MW Students in both classrooms had a wide range of
opportunities for writing. At Ellison School, writing opportunities included board work,
phonics work sheets, reading lessons (at least for higher performing students), joumals,

and theme writing. Four of these activities--board work, reading lessons, journals, and

262

theme writing-provided opportunities for writing extended text. It is interesting to note that
two of the extended writing activities--board work and reading lessons--involved writing
activities for higher performing students only. Lower performing students were considered
to be unready for writing extended text, and they were allowed to dictate their stories to the
teachers. With their low encoding skills, writing stories was too “frustrating” for them.

It’ll be oral. As they tell, we’ll write the paper, but they’re going to sit there and tell it

to us and we’re going to write it down for them. And that’s their first step. So we

don’t even attempt this with them because it’s too frustrating. They just cannot handle
it right now. And we didn’t learn that until maybe two or three years ago. We expected
everybody to do it...they’ve only got, what, about twelve sounds under control, and
it’s just too frustrating for them (teacher interview, Ellison Team Room).

At Watkins School writing opportunities included journal writing, writing at reading
centers, recess writing (disciplinary writing), theme writing, and Writing Workshop. Three
of these activities--joumals, theme writing, and Writing Workshop--provided opportunities
for writing extended text. However, and in contrast to Ellison, all students were expected
to write extended text for stories and in their response journals. About one of the
academically lowest performing students, the teachers said, “If Roger writes a couple of
words [in his response journal], three words, I’m happy with three...he’s being successful
for where he’s at. And he’s feeling that success” (teacher interview). These teachers
believed that the accomplishment of writing provided successful experiences for students.

W At Ellison, writing was often done for exhibition or to complete
assignments. Lanie’s remark, “When it’s for parents, our last parent meeting, they show
everything what we do,” indicated her awareness of exhibition. A general education student
in the Ellison Team Room explained why he wrote: “I just try to write stuff like they tell
me. That’s all. You gotta write it.” Ellison teachers saw the purpose of students’ writing
instruction as being able to get something on paper. For them, the achievement of written
text was the prime reason for learning to write. For students, the cognitive and social

requirements related to writing were fairly straightforward. Expectations were quite clear

with few decision points as long as students complied with the specific structure suggested

263

by the teachers. For students with learning disabilities who might have attentional or
interpersonal difficulties, clear expectations might be a protective barrier providing a
manageable working space.

At Watkins, writing was often problem solving and intended for communication with
an audience. Reasons for communication might include resolving recess problems or
writing to the school board. The persuasive writing activity illustrated writing that involved
a highly structured text. However, within the activity were provided ample opportunities
for problem solving in situated contexts as students strove to identify and express ideas that
would address the goal for the writing, which was to persuade the school board to install
soccer goals at the school. The Watkins teachers felt that the purpose for writing instruction
was to enable students to communicate for authentic reasons, and that such authentic
communication was critical for student motivation to write. Writing was not an endpoint
but a tool to accomplish social goals. For students, expectations were no less clear than at
Ellison, but at Watkins task structures included multiple decision points. Additionally, the
need to negotiate meaning making and turn taking required students to attend to identity
building and relational tasks, with attendant risks rife with opportunities for public and
painfirl failure. The other side of the negotiation coin was that students who successfully
navigated this dangerous territory were rewarded by their functional inclusion in the task
and in peer interactions.

W At Ellison texts were comprised of word and phrase-length answers
and were expected to represent “quality work” (Lanie’s student interview). Quality work
meant neat handwriting, best individual effort, and correct answers. This explicit attention
to form was important for students who typically have difficulty learning by observation
without direct instruction.

At Watkins, almost all writing was considered to be at the draft level. That is, students
could use invented spelling, editor’s marks, and other ways to provide coherence for the

reader (e. g., arrows). Teachers celebrated “sloppy copies” as documents that showed, in

264

their use of editor’s marks, arrows, cross outs, and other editing devices, evidence of the
writer’s thoughtful reflection and composition of text. Some of these editing moves
showed up in Marta’s and Dustin’s writing, particularly the use of an arrow to indicate
paragraph indentation. Teachers emphasized creativity and the substance of the product
rather than its physical appearance. Teachers or students published their stories by typing
them at the computer; students were rarely required to recopy text by hand.

Genera! urganizatiun uf activity, Erickson (1996) suggested that organization of
activity in the classroom can contribute to the assimilation of students with disabilities into
classroom activity. Classrooms where all students are expected to do the same thing at the
same time (e.g., math problems in a text book) display a monochronic organization of
activity, which tends to make visible students who are engaged in different activity (e. g.,
using manipulatives to help solve problems in a task that is pencil-and-paper work for all
other students). Polychronic activity, on the other hand, where students are engaged in
different activities at the same time, firnctions to conceal differences in levels and quality of
student performance in the classroom, helping students with learning disabilities to better
blend with other students.

Polychronic organization seemed to characterize the general organization of activity in
both classrooms. At Ellison, center time, which accounted for most of the time between
9:00 am. and 12:30 pm, organized student activity around six different tasks, with
participation changes every 30 minutes or so. Casual observers would see a buzz of
activity, rendering it virtually impossible for them to identify students who might have
learning disabilities. Everyone was busy and took a turn at each of the six centers.

At Watkins, similar activity occurred during reading instruction. Some children
participated in reading lessons organized in heterogeneous groups, while others completed
work at various academic centers. The students at the centers rotated on the sound of a
timer. Writing Workshop was also a polychronic activity in the sense that students were

engaged in various phases of the writing process at the same time. Some might be drafting,

265

some editing, or some involved in processing their stories on the computer for publication.

Sometimes organization of activity was monochronic in both classrooms, usually
during whole-group lessons. Some lessons tended to be recitations or discussions. In these
lessons, the teachers carried the responsibility for supporting students’ participation and
helping them blend. Appropriate behavior for both of these participant frameworks
included observation, a low-risk activity appropriate for both special education and general
education students. Active participation in these lessons was usually voluntary, and in both
classrooms teachers provided calibrated scaffolding for lower-performing students who
volunteered to participate. Scaffolding might be offered in the form of revoicing (O’Connor
& Michaels, 1993), as demonstrated by this exchange in the Ellison classroom where
Maddy, a special education student, volunteered information about an octopus.

Maddy: Some octopuses change their color when they’re around their color they go

they change they their color.

T: That’s right, when they’re around a certain color, they change to that color.

That’s right.

As Maddy struggled to put her idea into words, Darlene offered a coherent revoicing
of her thought. In this way, Maddy was assisted to participate in the whole group lesson
with a valuable contribution to the knowledge collection activity.

At Watkins, monochronic activities such as journal writing or math group lessons
were arranged in such a way that supports or scaffolds (e. g., procedures for asking peers
how to spell a word, using math manipulatives) were not based on a special educati on-
general education distinction. In the whole group structure, peers as well as teachers were
called on to assist the participation of students who risked volunteering.

At Watkins, Morning Message, a whole group activity, might be considered to be
monochronic in that everyone was engaged in the same activity at the same time. However,
it might also be considered to be polychronic in the sense that there were different levels
and opportunities for involvement. For instance, some students were involved in evaluating

and adjusting coherence, a complex meaning-making activity, while others addressed end-

266

of-sentence punctuation. Both elements of text, meaning, and conventions, are critical in
written expression; therefore, both types of contributions were important to the
construction of complete and correct text.
MW

We turn now to a closer look at the structure of writing lessons, focusing on the types
of activity structures (Gallimore & Tharp, 1990) found in the Ellison Team Room and the
Watkins inclusion classroom. Students in both classrooms participated in different activity
structures or participation frameworks (O’Connor & Michaels, 1993) ranging from
“solitary” to “collective.” A participation framework describes (1) the ways that speech
event participants are aligned with or against each other, and (2) the ways they are
positioned relative to topics and even specific utterances (i.e., participants talking to one
another and about one another). Participant frameworks are different from participant
structures, which denote the rights and responsibilities in classroom activities purposefully
set up by the teacher--small groups, large-group discussion, lecture--and they are also

different from speech activities (Gumperz, 1986), which are defined as conventional levels

1, “ ’3 6‘

of activity (“classroom discussion, complaining, making a speech”).

A common participant framework found in schools is represented by the teacher who
talks, decides who else talks, asks the questions, evaluates the answers and clearly
manages the conversation (Mehan, 1979). This pattern is the I-R—E (or F) pattern: teacher
initiation of an exchange, student response, teacher evaluation or feedback. In an I-R-E (or
F) pattern, the roles of teacher and student are unequal. The teacher casts students in the
role of learners, who are considered to be unknowing and unable to evaluate their own
responses, while the teacher is the authority and arbiter of what counts as knowledge. This
is not bad in and of itself, but if we believe that meaning is constructed discursively, then
using participant structures that rely on inquiry and instruction without opportunities for

conversation and debate (Burbules, 1993) severely limits learning opportunities for

students. Thus, altering the participant framework might not only position students in

267

active, rather than passive, roles relative to teachers, but prompt teachers to find ways to
position all students, including frequently marginalized special education students, in active
roles relative to other students.

To understand the types of participant structures and frameworks that might be
available in these two classrooms, I drew on my own teaching experience, classroom
observations, and other resources to construct types of classroom interaction. Four types of
participant structures seemed to include most academic activities. Calling the four possible
configurations “learning spaces,” I defined and illustrated the: (1) standard learning space,

(2) guided learning space, (3) collaborative learning space, and (4) autonomous learning

 

 

space (see Figure 24).
Learning Standard Guided Collaborative Autonomous
Space Learning Space Learning Space Learning Space Learning
Space
Action Teacher explains Teacher/student Student writes Student writes
how to write text write text together text with peer text
independently
T T
0 tr 0 S is Q S S
S S

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 24. Learning Spaces: type, action, and direction of action.

The first space, the standard learning space involves unidirectional teacher-student
interaction. This might occur when a teacher introduces and explains new material to be
learned. In a traditional grammar lesson using a textbook, for example, this would be the
phase where the teacher explains how to identify nouns in sentences. In this interactional
space, the teacher is active and the student is mostly passive. The teacher explains and
illustrates, while the student observes, perhaps requesting clarification. In its extreme form
(i.e., lecture only) this space did not seem to be present in either the Ellison or Watkins
classrooms. All of the teachers seemed to be skilled at drawing students into their
presentations of new material in ways that allowed students to make connections between

their prior knowledge and new material. For example in the following segment, Darlene

268

introduced new board work lessons at Ellison by calling on students to recall prior

knowledge:

Darlene: Okay. I have got something on this board work, some kind of special word.

A.

Does anybody in purple know what in the world these things are? What are
they called? Adelyn, do you think you remember from last year? I don’t
know if you did this last year, but you may have heard about it.

I heard about it.

Darlene: Heard about it. That’s what I thought. You heard about it. All right, Donny,

Donny

you think you remember?
: Compound words

Darlene: Did you just say that, Adelyn? Very good.

By calling on students to consult their prior knowledge, Darlene drew out their

knowledge

of compound words. A less skilled teacher might have said something like this:

“Okay, today I am going to tell you about compound words. A compound word is a word

that is made up of two smaller words...” Darlene, however, through her knowledge of the

history of the class regarding what happened, or might have happened, last year, was adept

at making connections with students’ prior learning.

Likewise Rhonda, in the inclusion room at Watkins, involved students in her

explanation of the task. Recall her introduction to persuasive writing.

R:

Ned:
R:

This morning we are going on a journey of writing that will cause someone else
to change their thinking or so we can do something we want. What do we call
that type of writing?

Persuading

Persuading. I’m sure you all have done something like this...You really want
some new roller blades. You want something new that you think you need, but
your parents don’t agree.

In this way, Rhonda elicited the topic from the students, rather than disclosing it

herself. She also involved students in the selection of a second issue by drawing the topic,

school uniforms, from another classroom activity, a virtual journey through Africa.

R:
S :
R:

Thus,

What did you vote on today on Globaleam [computer site for the journey]?
Wearing uniforms to school.

That was the issue...We are going to take the issue of wearing uniforms to
school

although persuasive writing meant learning new concepts and writing skills,

Rhonda did not present these as a lecture, which less experienced and skilled teachers

269

might have done, but provided opportunities for students’ active involvement.

The second space, the guided learning space, involves bidirectional interaction as the
teacher leads students through examples involving application of new knowledge. Both
teacher and student are active. In our example, this is the phase where the teacher in the
hypothetical grammar lesson says, "Okay, let’s do the next one together," and then
proceeds to lead students as they do the exercise. Although both research classrooms
afforded opportunities for activity in the guided learning space, the nature of those
interactions was quite different. In the Team Room at Ellison, continuing the board work
example shown above, the following bidirectional interaction occurred as Darlene
continued to guide students through the assignment they would be doing later on their own.

D: Then what do we have next? Loren.

Loren: Mailbox.

Mailbox. What are two small words in mailbox, Loren?

Mail and box.

Mail and box. How about this word, Lanie? (Lanie has raised her hand.)
Popcorn.

Popcorn. What are the two small words?

Pop.

Pop

Corn
And corn.

PS‘DS’DEDS‘Q

Together Darlene and the students accomplished the task, with the teacher guiding
students through the exercise. However, the interaction had the qualities of the initiation-
response-evaluation (I-R-E) pattern (Cazden,l988; Mehan,]979). The lesson was quickly
accomplished and the teacher moved on to the next group, where a similar sequence was
repeated.

At Watkins, teacher management of the guided learning space was quite different.
First, because writing a persuasive essay was a more complex task than writing compound
words, the guided phase of the lesson was much longer for the persuasive exercise.
Rhonda and the students spent several days on the task, first constructing topic sentences
and then paragraphs. In the transcribed segment below, note how, rather than controlling

the discussion through the use of the I—R-E sequence, Rhonda engaged the students in

270

problem-solving by referring decision making back to them.

T: I hate to tell you this, but how is that [soiling a uniform] different from wearing
your own clothes? ...Somehow we gotta make it be different.

The buttons might come off when you're washing your clothes.

Oh,...if they wear out? There’s something we didn’t think about.

That could go with the buying one.

Could go with buying one up there too couldn’t it. Good thinking. If you’re
writing things that could still be the same as regular clothes, that’s not gonna
persuade anybody. Dustin said they might wear out quicker. Now there’s a
thought

715.719.

Rhonda identified a logic problem with their argument, then turned it over to students
for repair. Dustin’s response received a high level evaluation (Nystrand & Gamoran,
1991), one that allowed his contribution to influence the outcome of the discussion.
Dustin’s sentence was eventually added to the model essay. Through the guided co-
construction of text, Rhonda built from students’ comments, as if she were positioned
equally, as just another group member working with Paul and Cassie to compose a
sentence for their common essay.

Thus, we note the possibility of variations of teacher guidance within the guided
learning space. Darlene provided guidance that involved students, but she was leading
students toward known answers. Rhonda’s exchanges with students were used to develop
students’ thought processes and ideas.

Passing over the third learning space for a moment, we note that the fourth learning
space, the autonomous learning space, involves independent action on the part of students
as they proceed to apply new knowledge in some task. This would be the phase in the
traditional lesson where the teacher directs students to "Do the next ten sentences on your
own." In the board work lesson above, this occurred later that morning during the time
specified for seat work. In the persuasive essay writing, this would have occurred later had
there been time before the end of the school year.

The three learning spaces just described, the standard, guided, and autonomous
spaces, seem to be typical in most classrooms. This brings us to the third space, the

collaborative learning space. Learning in the collaborative space is an instructional phase

271

that is critical for student learning. This is where peer-peer interaction takes place as
students help and instruct each other in the application of newly learned skills to a new
task. As active participants in this new, joint task, students have opportunities to instruct
and be instructed, explore, take intellectual and emotional risks, voice authentic and
personal questions, and initiate topics of interest (Raphael, Brock, & Wallace, 1998).
Learning in the collaborative space assumes the social construction of knowledge and
moves away from teaching and learning viewed as transmission.

Students in the Watkins classroom had opportunities to work in the collaborative
space, directing peer talk toward the accomplishment of a joint task. Students were often
encouraged to work in small groups or in dyads. This interaction was viewed as a
responsibility of members of a learning community. As responsible members of the
community, students shared knowledge with each other and assisted other students in case
of need. At least this was the goal, and despite times when the interactions fell short of the
goal, students had the opportunities to benefit from these interactions. This possibility was
missing at Ellison. For example, Table 11 illustrates representative lesson sequences in the
two classrooms. Typically, students at Ellison were not provided collaborative

opportunities, while students at Watkins were.

 

 

 

Table 11
E l ' Re r iv E _
Standard Guided Collaborative Autonomous
Learning Space Learning Space Learning Space Learning Space
Ellison Teacher lists Teacher elicits (No formal Students copy

facts & models facts and big opportunity for concept map
concept map for ideas. peer and write own
octopus report. collaboration) report.

Watkins Teacher shows Teacher & Students Students would
the persuasive students construct essay have written
essay web. construct model on new topic in own essays, if

essay small groups. time.

 

To summarize, activities in the standard and autonomous learning spaces were similar

in the two classrooms. In each case, teachers explained the task to their students, and

272

students performed independent work. However, activities in the guided learning space
might be qualitatively very different, as they were in the two cases under consideration.
Guiding took different forms. In Darlene’s octopus lesson, she asked students to recall
what they remembered. She then augmented their recall with her own observations and
comments. In Rhonda’s sequence of lessons on persuasive writing, she asked students to
problem solve as they and she struggled to construct text together. For her, guiding
involved turning problem-solving situations back to the students and providing them with
opportunities to respond to the ideas and suggestions of other students.

In the collaborative learning space, students at Watkins worked together to construct
persuasive essays. Working without major teacher input, students had the opportunity to
explore the new skill of persuasive writing with their peers. Students at Ellison did not
have formal opportunities for this type of mutual, collaborative exploration of new skills.
An opportunity for useful exploitation of the collaborative space might have occurred had
students been instructed to write their reports with a partner, that is, two students writing
one report.

We have demonstrated in the persuasive writing collaborations described in Chapter 5
that acting in the collaborative learning space entails risks. However, the point is that
students in the inclusion classroom at Watkins had opportunities for collaboration that
students at Ellison did not. Ifopportunities for social interchange are critical components of
opportunity to learn, then, clearly, students in the Watkins inclusion classroom received
enriched learning opportunities. At Watkins, what was afforded was a rich menu of
opportunity for social interaction that involved activity structures allowing for whole class,
small group, dyadic, and individual activities. Participation in such structures allowed the
involvement of more knowledgeable others (V ygotsky, 1978) to serve as resources for
students’ learning. Students with access to each other for support have a wider range of
educational opportunities available (Gutierrez & Stone, 1997) when compared with

students who must rely exclusively on their own resources or on the teacher.

273

Cuniculuchsign

Since special education and regular education typically operate within different
paradigms (Meredith & Underwood, 1995), curriculum design for inclusion classrooms is
a critical issue. Typically, special education provides instruction that is individualized,
deficit driven, segmented, and tightly controlled (Poplin, 1988). General education
teachers, on the other hand, are required to attend to the needs of an entire group of
students. At present, teachers in general education environments do not often adapt
curriculum to meet the unique learning needs of students with disabilities who are included
(McIntosh, Vaughn, Schumm, Haager, & Lee, 1993; Scott, Vitale, & Masten, 1998;
Zigmond & Baker, 1995). In effect, students are included but not engaged. Teachers in
both of the classrooms in this study designed similar curricula for every child, with the
child’s participation individually determined. The curriculum was for everybody, and
differential participation was supported. At Ellison, participation in the universal curriculum
was asynchronous, in that, although all students learned the same curricular components,
they learned them at different times. At Watkins, participation was synchronous, but
different levels of performance were allowed and encouraged.
A ' ivi L min N e

Attention to individual learning needs is necessary and critical for students with
learning disabilities (Kauffman & Hallahan, 1997). We might wonder how, in an inclusion
context, this individualization might be accomplished. In particular, because writing
instruction in the Team Room at Ellison was so obviously structured to focus on
remediating individual learning needs, we might well wonder how similar individualization
was accomplished at Watkins, where all students often participated in shared activities.

I suggest that, in both classrooms, instruction was indeed individually calibrated for
all children, whether they were identified as general or special education students.

However, this calibration was accomplished in different ways (see Table 12).

274

Table 12

(Qalibrauun Qf Individual Instructiun
What is provided When it is provided

 

Ellison Calibrated instruction is provided All calibration is planned for ahead
for every child by the individual of time. Requires less on-the-spot
materials and activities provided teacher-student interaction.
for each student.

 

Watkins Calibrated instruction is provided Requires constant on-the-spot
for every child "on line" as calibration during the process of
teachers interact with students the task.
while they are doing the task.

 

To state these findings as a claim, individualization was provided in the Ellison
classroom via planning, and in the Watkins classroom via scaffolding. In the Ellison
classroom, calibrated instruction was provided by the planned materials. These teachers
had complied shelves of large three-ring binders full of phonics work sheets that covered
and carefully sequenced every phonic element they could think of. Students were assessed
at the beginning of the year, and on this basis, assigned an “entry point” into the phonics
curriculum. Progress was planned for by sequenced work sheets and activities. This type
of calibrated instruction required less on-the-spot calibration on a moment-to-moment
basis, because all calibration was planned for and prepared ahead of time.

In the Watkins classroom, calibrated instruction was provided "on line" within the
"multilevel instructional " tasks (Vaughn & Schumm, 1996) required of all students. As
teachers interacted daily with students during Morning Message or Writing Workshop, they
adjusted and tailored their instruction for each student. Such instruction requires on-the-
spot calibration during the process of the task.

It may be that the "inclusion" aspect of both classrooms could be defined as (a)
enabling of students academically and socially, and (b) attention to unique learning needs,
and is found in the calibrated individualization of instruction for every child, whether
general or special education. It is the presence or absence of calibration that is a key feature

of successful inclusion rooms.

275

Participation, according to Wenger (1998) is made up of action and connection.
Therefore, participation has both individual and social aspects that imply interaction. In the
classroom, both teacher and student contribute in and to classroom activity. The teacher
contributes instruction (action) and trust (connection) to the interaction. The student
contributes some kind of activity (action) and trust (connection). Interaction implies
engagement. We know that engagement is critical to achievement. If engagement abates,
achievement may be reduced.

This section is segmented into three parts. The first deals with teachers’ views of
participation, the role of trust in participation, and the nature of participation in writing
activities. The middle part addresses actual engagement of students in writing activities.
The final segment considers the roles and relationships among students and teachers during

writing activities.

' i ' in I r In
W I was alerted to possible variations in classroom

culture when the teachers in each classroom defined “participation” rather differently.
Ellison teachers talked about two kinds of participation. One was whole group participation
in specific activities, as when all students receive the same content at the listening center:
“Everybody participates...everybody’s getting the thematic information. It’s
necessary...because their board work, or everything, revolves around what the theme is.
So everybody’s participating in attaining all kinds of...information.” This kind of
participation meant listening to the tapes and completing the accompanying activity.
Another whole group activity where everyone participated was the daily introduction to
board work: “Everybody participates as full group, but these [board work exercises] are
specific to whatever their needs are. So they have a specific place they have to direct their
attention to when they’re doing the board work.” This was a similar kind of participation,

in that students were expected to listen and give the right answer when called upon.

276

....

For the Watkins teachers, participation and community were linked. Both terms
surfaced in the same conversational topic. Participation was essential for community
membership; if you’re not there, you can’t be fully part of a community: “When kids are in
pull-outs, they’re not really a whole part of that community.” Participation also creates
community: “They immediately were talking [through their journals] back and forth,...it’s
also building community.” Participation was a goal: “Everyone can participate today.” If
academic learning was not immediately evident, the bottom line was “at least the
participation part was there.” Participation was linked with empowerment: “I have the
power to do that if I participate.” In the Watkins classroom, participation was expected at
the whole group level, it was invited, and it involved writing or speaking.

A second kind of participation involved students’ relationship to the general
instructional program of the classroom. Having prior knowledge of the sense of
community and the kind of participation the Watkins teachers encouraged, I tried to prompt
the Ellison teachers to say something similar, to somehow indicate that for them,
involvement of students at various levels in the shared activities of the classroom was also
important.

RB: Well, for instance, some people in inclusion classrooms might say, I really
expect, they mean everybody, but I really expect the special ed kids to really
try hard, do their best, you know, participate.

DW: That’s just everybody. I don’t expect anything from a special ed kids I don’t
expect from everybody. I don't, I never even thought of it. I mean, that’s
why the question seems so foreign, because it’s not something we think
about.

The Ellison teachers seemed to construe participation as participation in, as opposed to
the participation with that the Watson teachers valued. At Ellison, students participated in
order to complete their work. At Watkins, students participated in order to belong to a
community. Participating in an individual tape-listening activity is different than
participating with peers in the construction of a Morning Message. The kind of participation

I thought I was attempting to describe in the interview just didn’t make sense to the Ellison

277

 

teachers. To paraphrase in my own words the sense of the Ellison response, “Of course,
students participate. They come to school; they do the work. If they don’t, they’ll be in
trouble. What else is there?” At Ellison, participation was assumed at the individual level,
required, and involved listening, observing, or simple responses. At Watkins, participation
was assumed at the group level, invited, and involved complex responses in addition to
listening and observing.

Requirements for participation may be pre-defined or decided in situ. At Ellison,
participation was nailed down. Students knew what was expected of them each day, and
teachers made sure all assignments were completed. Structures, even physical structures
such as the dividers at the literacy centers, encouraged students to participate (i.e., do their
assigned tasks). At Watkins, participation was much more contextually determined. Since
participation was in a sense optional (invited), teachers constantly encouraged participation
by, for example, asking Morning Message authors to call on students who had not yet
participated, by scaffolding participation when it was difficult (e. g., Marta being allowed to
call on another student to speak for her), and by noting participation when it occurred
(“That’s good. Thank you”).

MW Teachers at both schools talked about the importance
of trust. At Ellison, gaining students’ trust was prerequisite for learning and preceded
everything else. Once trust had been established, students would do with the tasks selected
for them. At Watkins, trust was also considered foundational to learning: “They have to
trust us to make sure it’s okay to...try things.” The teachers seemed to understand that the
possibilities for learning and participating may be hi gh-risk for some students. However,
one had the sense that trust was also the result of community building. This vignette told by
Rhonda demonstrated how trust evolved from relationships.

I got on some kids out here I don’t even know, at recess time....After I’d taken care of

the problem, I said [to some of our students], “Boy, they sure looked like they were

afraid of me, didn’t they?” and they started giggling...So, it’s, you know, that trust

thing...[They know] you’re going to be accepting of them, even when they make
mistakes. (interview)

278

The nature ef paflieipauen in writing eetiyity, Writing activities in the two classrooms

may be characterized differently. At Ellison, activity involved copying, listening,
responding to a phonics tape or a computer skill drill program. It also involved observing;
however, it was observing for the purpose of providing the correct answer at the
appropriate point, to learn the guidelines for an assignment to be accomplished later, or to
provide an audience for the teacher’s presentation of new knowledge. These were the
teachers’ activities _f_o_r the students. In the octopus report writing, the activity was to copy
the web and then produce the product the teacher wanted, which included a particular order
for the “big ideas.” In the creation of the dragon shadow puppet show script, the teacher
was visibly in charge of the text, paraphrasing it and modifying it as she wished. Activity
was reproductive (Bloome, 1989) rather than productive, and the teacher owned the task.
In fact, the teacher’s talk contained very little evidence for the possibility of joint
ownership. For example, the only time the teacher used the pronoun “our” in the octopus
lesson was in referring to the new students in the class who were learning how to use “our”
brainstorming sheet, a sort of “them” and “us” inference.

At Watkins, activity involved speaking, writing, and observing; however, observation
involved identifying a point where one might contribute to the product under construction.
There was every indication that a student’s contribution would actually modify the outcome
of the activity; thus, a student might develop a sense of ownership in the activity and
outcome: “That word/phrase/sentence/idea up there is mine. The teacher didn’t think of it; I
did.” In the persuasive essay whole group activity, the teacher’s talk included ten instances
of the use of the pronoun “our”: our data, our web, our topic, our paragraphs, our list, and
so on. Activity was shared activity and was productive rather than reproductive.

To be part of an enterprise, subjects must be joined in a common task that is mutually

shaped by their interaction (W enger, 1998). Participation in such a task might be defined as

279

engagement. This section will address student engagement in three activity structures:
whole group lessons, small group collaborations, and individual work.

Engagement during whele greup lessens. Whole group lessons included text
construction during Morning Message and persuasive writing at Watkins, the dragon story
at Ellison, and the public phases of board work and process writing (the octopus report) at
Ellison. In the octopus report and dragon story lessons, the teacher invited student ideas,
but students were not involved with her in composing the texts. At Watkins, the students
provided the raw material and also co-constructed the text. When students were involved in
the composition, the interactions tended to be much tighter, in that, to make a contribution,
a student would have to be attending to and following the thread of the conversation in
order to understand the process. In this type of interaction, sequence is integral to
coherence. A student’s contribution must be made at the right time to make sense. Students
with learning disabilities might find this type of interaction difficult if the interaction
proceeds rapidly. The following transcript segment from the persuasive writing episode
illustrates the tight, sequential nature of the exchange.

P: Okay, you could put “He says that they’re too hot.”

T: Okay, ...remember Cassie,...This was kind of your issue.

Cassie: You could write, he says the uniforms get too hot, because they’re not hot
when it’s winter.

D: Or we could put, are too hot in the spring and

Cassie: Summer

D: Or in warmer weather?

P' Yeah. The uniforms are too hot in the warmer seasons.

Tiwrites: The uniforms are too hot in the warmer seasons.

Four people were involved in this conversation: Paul, Rhonda (the teacher), Cassie,
and Danny. For Danny to be able to say, “Or we could put...,” he had to have been
following the exchange closely. His utterance directly related to Cassie’s immediately prior
utterance. This is equally true for Cassie, because her, “Summer,” completed Danny’s
unfinished thought. Thus, attentional demands were greater in large group lessons at
Watkins, but this also meant students were being apprenticed into a wider range of

“discourses.”

280

Although exchanges similar to the one above were common, there were more relaxed
opportunities for entering the dialogue at other times. During Morning Message, Mark, a
special education student, asked a question that began with a question word: “Where did
you go and play soccer.” This followed the teacher’s reminder to Kevin to call on
someone, which, in turn, followed her reminder for students to use question words. The
cue, “If there’s someone who hasn’t been called on, you need to call on them,” signaled
that the previous exchange had finished, and the author was ready to entertain a new
question or suggestion. Mark’s contribution at this point did not need to be linked to the
previous text construction episode.

In both the octopus report and dragon story at Ellison, students did not have to attend
as closely to sequence. During the octopus report, recalled information could be presented
in any order to be added to the list on the board. Categorization had not yet begun. During
the dragon story lesson, the teacher kept the students apprised about what needed to come
next.

0 He is calling for Ling-Ling to come...Raise your hand if you have an idea of what

could happen next.

- The tiger was walking toward the emperor...What next?

- In flies Ling-Ling. He says, “Welcome, I’m here to help you.” What next?

- The emperor is saying again, “Help me!” What’s going to happen next?

- He’ll get rid of that tiger for ten gold coins, and he’s gonna find his cricket on top of

it. What’s going to happen next?

Each “What’s going to happen next?” question was preceded by an account of the
story line to that point. In this way, the teacher did the intellectual work of coherence.
Students at Watkins needed to pay close attention to the ongoing dialogue to understand the
sense of it, while at Ellison the teacher provided the coherence. This was an important
scaffold for students who typically have difficulty with coherence issues in both narrative
and expository writing (Englert & Raphael, 1988).

Whole group instruction provided opportunities for engagement at both Ellison and

Watkins. It also provided opportunities for disengagement. In both classrooms, students

with learning disabilities volunteered contributions and responses during this participant

281

framework, but did not carry the major work of the conversation.

WWW Peer collaboration for the purpose of
text construction was not an activity at Ellison. At Watkins, for better or for worse, target
students had access to both the risks and potentials of small group dynamics. Small groups
were often constituted for writing expository text and for supported independence before
individual performance. These events provided opportunities for students to take the lead
and/or be mentored in the production of text, but also created problems of access to the text
and to the writing process when one or two members of the group dominated the activity.
Success in small group collaborations demanded the negotiation of both social and
cognitive tasks. Again, the target students displayed both engagement and disengagement
behaviors during small group collaboration.

WWI; Types of task engagement during individual
tasks were probably similar at both Watkins and Ellison. However, I noted some
differences. At Watkins, students were expected to help each other and also sat in close
physical proximity when engaging in writing activities. They could easily ask a neighbor
how to spell a word or comment on their or someone else’s text. Routine writing activities
at Ellison were generally intended to be individually completed at students’ desks. Students
were not necessarily located near each other. This was because one group at a time was
distributed throughout the desk area while the five other groups were away from their
desks attending other centers. However, students occasionally formed ad hoc associations
for writing.

In both classrooms, individual activities offered the most opportunities for students to
be engaged. Even so, target students in both schools tended to exhibit a mixture of both
engagement and disengagement during individual writing activities, attending to task, then
being distracted, then turning back to the task, only to be distracted yet again, and so on.

In summary, while active engagement in large group activities by the target students at

Ellison generally meant providing direct answers to teacher’s queries, active engagement in

282

individual activities involved individual attention to one’s task. At Watkins, active
engagement in large group activities involved closely attending to the ongoing conversation
and contributing to the joint construction of text. Active engagement in small group
collaborations required the negotiation of the social norms of the interaction as well as the
cognitive content. As at Ellison, active engagement in individual activities demanded
attention to one’s individual work.

’ 0]: ..o! .1'lgion " rr- LI" «.1. 0.1-1130 '1'-3i.

Participation and engagement imply the existence of roles and relationships that
emerge as individuals interact with one another. This section addresses the role of the
teacher as decision maker and student roles and positions relative to teachers and peers,
concluding with attention to the effect of the multi-age/grade nature of the classroom on
students’ positions within the classroom community.

WW1? Classroom structures involve social hierarchy and
relationships among participants and their roles in the learning process (Gutierrez, 1994).
One of a teacher’s roles is traditionally that of decision maker. However, in communities of
learners, both teachers and students may at times share aspects of the expert role with
respect to domain knowledge, and at times act as acquirers, users, and extenders of
knowledge in the sustained, ongoing process of understanding (Cole & Engestrom,1993).

Ellison teachers initiated and controlled most of the writing tasks on behalf of the
students. For example, Darlene was clearly the decision maker in the octopus report writing
activity. As the decision maker, she was vested in and owned the task. In her talk she
repeatedly referred to “you” and “your,” but what “you” were expected to do as a student
was follow the teacher’s instructions. Problem solving on one’s own was unnecessary. In
contrast, Rhonda at Watkins sprinkled her talk with references to “our
paper/web/issue/data/stand/topic/paragraphs/list/writing.” Joint ownership was implicit in
her talk. At Ellison, the only use of “our” in the events transcribed occurred when Darlene

made a distinction between newcomers and old-timers in the classroom: “So the first

283

graders, and those who haven’t been in our room before, they are just going to be learning
about it right now. How to fill out our brainstorming sheet” (transcript). Here, “our” was
used to divide the group into two parts, newcomers and old-timers, rather than to signal
joint ownership of and participation in the task.

Students at Watkins had a great deal of input into whole group text construction. They
also retained a high degree of discretion over their writing tasks in Writing Workshop.
They were able to decide topics, when to stop, and length. Marta, for example, knew how
long to make a story, “to the bottom.” This was her decision, not the teacher’s. It was
typical for the teacher to introduce Writing Workshop by reminding students of their
choices:

You reread what you wrote last time. Then what do you do?...Write the date where

you’re going to start this time. You have to make a decision, don’t you? Paul, what do

you need to decide?...Okay, keep working on another story or start a new one.

(transcript of videotape)

Whenever students did Writing Workshop, they began with decisions: what to work
on, for how long, and so on. Student decision making determined the nature of Writing
Workshop for the individual student and the class as a whole for that lesson.

Aeademteauiaqgtalpufluumug, In this study I asked whether students identified as
special education students were positioned in these classrooms in a lower position because
of their disability. Positioning always occurs in social relationships. In a social relationship
one individual may be in a position of dominance, relegating other or others to positions of
inferiority (Harré & Langenhove, 1999). I sought to discover whether and how such
positionings occurred in these classrooms, but more importantly, whether and how such
positionings may be related to disability status. In the next two sections, I look at
positioning relative to teachers and positioning relative to peers.

Busitieuiug relative tQ teaehers, A reason for undertaking this study involved the

possibility that teachers might inadvertently position students with disabilities in inferior

roles both academically and socially. Such findings were an important contribution of a

284

study undertaken by Dudley-Marling (1998), who found that special education students
were positioned as disabled by teachers who paced lessons too rapidly, who demanded a
high degree of specificity in student responses, and by the hierarchical and technical
components of the lessons in which they participated.

I found no evidence that this might be occurring in either of these classrooms. In both
classrooms, teachers were attentive to the needs of students with disabilities. In neither
classroom were students with learning disabilities distinguished as a group from those
without learning disabilities. The teachers in the Ellison Team Room held the view that all
students had unique and distinct learning needs. The teachers in the Watkins inclusion
classroom were committed to the empowerment of all students in their classroom.

Wm The teachers in both of these classrooms strove to
conceal the identification of students with disabilities. (Recall that there were no students
with moderate or severe disabilities in these classrooms.) Their intention was that no
student in the classroom would be able to position another student, or students position
themselves, on the basis of disability. Thus, teachers’ self reports indicated an intention to
eliminate the possibility of observable differences based on disability classification.
Consequently, in one sense, positioning on the basis of disability was moot in these
classrooms.

However, in another sense, positioning on alternative bases might be more critical in
the sense that these classrooms, as inclusion classrooms, had a wider range of performance
levels than regular classrooms, which might make academic differences more clear and
obvious, and provide the impetus for students to position others as academically and
socially inferior. The public “board work” lessons at Ellison might have provided just such
a forum for indexing student knowledge or skill levels. Where the curriculum is stratified
and students are publicly assigned to different levels and/or activities, as they were for
board work and phonics center assignments at Ellison, the opportunity exists for students

to figure out their academic level relative to other students and to make assumptions about

285

others or themselves on that basis, if they care to do so. Where the curriculum is multilevel
and students participate in shared activities, as they did for Morning Message and the
persuasive writing lessons at Watkins, it is unlikely that students will be able to make such
comparisons, because every contribution is valuable and valued. In addition, any individual
student may contribute a variety of skills to the shared activity, since multiple intelligences
theory (Gardner, 1983) suggests that students are likely to perform in multiple skill areas,
depending on activity and students' interests and strengths.

At Watkins, peer judgment might have influenced interactions in the episode regarding
Marta and her spelling level. Spelling, at Watkins, was a stratified activity, with students
assigned to various spelling groups. This stratification allowed Danny to position Marta,
even though Danny’s judgement was unlikely based on an overt awareness of disability.
However, we might ask, What difference does that make for Marta? Whatever the basis for
her marginalization by the higher performers in her group, this episode, uncomfortable for
me to observe, must have been difficult for her.

Was this episode evidence of a breakdown in the community fabric or a normal, albeit
rather dark, aspect of relationship in any collective? In this opportunity for special
education students and general education students to participate in a shared, small-group
activity, the general education students did not take up the community idea, even when
afforded. At other times other students did, as when general education students “helped” by
sharing answers with other students in large group situations. In the case of Marta’s group,
uptake needed to be done by the regular education students.

MultL-agezgtade Adding to the diverse nature of the classrooms, both shared the
distinction of being multi-age, multi-grade classrooms. In such classroom arrangements,
“veteran” students (students in the classroom prior year[s]) might provide for the
“maintenance of institutional memory” (W eade, 1992) and help “rookies” adjust to new
learning demands and processes. In the Team Room at Ellison there were twenty

“veterans” and twelve “rookies.” The veterans provided models for the rookies at the

286

beginning of the year when the routines for using the literacy centers were being learned.
However, teachers at Ellison portrayed Team Room veterans as puzzled onlookers, rather
than as a resource for the rookies: “And the second and third graders...are going, what is
wrong...why can’t they do this?” (interview). Rookies were accorded novice status in
areas where they have not yet mastered the procedures: “So the first graders, and those
who haven’t been in our room before, they are just going to be leaming...how to fill out
our brainstorming sheet” (transcript). “They” were not us, and “our” artifact had not yet
been mastered by the rookies.

At Watkins, where the range of student ages included first- through fourth-graders,
teachers exploited this wide variation as a resource for student learning. “Experts” (the
teachers’ term) were called on to assist those who needed help in accomplishing learning
tasks. For example, Angie stated her expectation that students would handle difficulties
with a math assignment by consulting a peer “expert”: “Raise your hand if you think you
need help, and I’ll try to find you an expert” (transcript).

At Watkins, veteran students may even assume teaching responsibilities with the
teachers. This happened early in the year when several students, who were familiar with
how their teachers had taught poetry the previous year, not only suggested several poems
to learn but also conducted the lesson:

The kids are doing poetry this year, once a week. I mean, kids are doing

poetry...They’re teaching a lesson... Today Bailey brought this one in from a book

she had at home...She said, “Okay, now, this group, you’re gonna do this, read this
section, and this group, you’re gonna read this section.” She leads them. (interview)

However, this variety of ages and performance levels posed a unique problem for
Angie and Rhonda, particularly in Writing Workshop. Because their students were
working at so many different levels, it was challenging to assess where each student was
performing on a daily basis and where to go next. They were concerned that “sometimes,
as a teacher, it’s hard to keep everything in your head.” Having this knowledge would

enable them to be confident that they knew that a student might be

287

kind of at this emergent or beginning emergent, or later emergent, you know, and

these are the things we’re working on, what else do I need to work on...Yes, he’s

kind of here. What else at that level could we be working on? (interview)

They felt that they were doing this, but wanted to feel more confident about it. Having
this specific knowledge available would also enable them to effectively communicate with
parents about the progress of their student.

Darlene and Monica dealt with the range of ages in their classroom on an individual
basis. They placed students at the appropriate point in the curriculum sequence, knowing
that what the student needed was determined by what came next in the sequence. Students
might progress more rapidly or slowly than others in the sequence, but everyone went
through the sequence. In this way, the teachers ensured their own awareness of individual
achievement levels and eliminated the possibility of gaps in students’ learning. Such a
curriculum also made it easier to monitor and predict students’ past and future progress.

Writing Instutetiuu; What Was Apptepriated

W This study equates appropriation with
learning (Rogoff,l993). However, a sociocultural framework suggests that what use
students make of the cultural tools available to them both determines and exposes what they
know. Discourse serves as a cultural tool for learning. In the Ellison classroom we have
seen that the teachers controlled the discourse, thus limiting opportunities for students to
engage with teachers and peers in decision-making and problem-solving situations. At
Watkins, teachers constantly used discourse to make visible expert thinking and problem-
solving techniques and to turn back to the students spaces where students could explore the
possibilities of learning afforded in the tasks.

Students must be engaged with the learning task in order to learn from it. However,
students with learning disabilities have more difficulty engaging in participant frameworks
that involve whole group activities than their general education counterparts, and, because
of their less well-developed social skills, possibly with small peer groups as well. This was

borne out by the data for this study. Engagement in individual, private, activities seemed to

288

engender the least problems for students with learning disabilities in both classrooms.

What was appropriated at the two schools depended on engagement, what was
afforded, and types of activity. At Ellison, if participation was defined as doing what you
were asked to do individually, to learn a curriculum that represented a tight sequence of
knowledge, in activities under the authority and control of the teachers, then appropriation
involved following directions and learning skills. Students at Ellison appropriate a product.
At Watkins, if participation was defined as speaking or writing in interaction with others, to
learn a curriculum that offered a wide range of possibilities, in activities negotiated with
other community members, then appropriation meant finding a way to contribute to and
share in the activity and interactions of the group. At Ellison, appropriation meant
metaphorically turning a page in a linear advance toward a particular learning goal. At
Watkins, the relevant metaphor might be a web page with hyperlinks, where the student is
exposed to the whole task with multiple entry and decision points.

Aeademjeauisecialgiteomes, Because participation has both personal and social
aspects, so do outcomes have both individual and social characteristics. Academic
achievement is an individual outcome. Ellison students scored higher on a standardized test
of word decoding. This outcome makes sense, given the phonics curriculum emphasized
there. Some target students from each room also did well on criterion-referenced writing
measures.

Important social outcomes for students with learning disabilities have to do with
enablement. Individuals are enabled to be literate through “tool kits” (Gutierrez,
Baquedano-Lopez, & Turner, 1997, p. 376), which are sets of practices that include the
literacy skills and behaviors acquired through social interaction. How one is enabled
depends upon what one is enabled to do. Students at Ellison are enabled to do what
everyone else does.

That’s just everybody. I don’t expect anything from a special ed kid I don’t expect

from everybody...everybody, across the board, we have the goal is the same. How
we arrive at that goal is different for each kid, but it’s not because they’re special ed or

289

regular ed, it’s because of who they are and what their needs are. (teacher interview,
Ellison)

Thus, enablement at Ellison meant students individually and skillfully doing their
work, enabling them to acquire knowledge and blend in with other students who are also
doing their individual tasks.

Teachers at Watkins talked about empowering students, not only to succeed in the
classroom, but to be able to regulate their own actions and learning.

We talk about empowering students. We want to empower them. And that’s really

what it is, we want them to be able to do the kinds of things that we ask them to do

independently, and do their very best and continue to feel success, and continue to
grow in their abilities. ..And metacognitively...we really talk about, think
about...thinking about how you learn and what you want to do and why (interview).

Enablement at Watkins meant learning through being involved with others in
interactive associations, blending in with other students and teachers in reciprocal
relationships that allow shared expertise and resources.

Remaiuing Challeuges fer the 1219 Researeh Classreums

The purpose of the study was to discover the unique attributes of each of these
classrooms that contributed to the deconstruction of disability in each classroom, rather
than to unfavorably compare one with the other. That disability had been deconstructed in
each classroom as a consequential factor for academic instruction or social interaction was
apparent. However, unique challenges remain to be confronted for each classroom model.
For the Ellison classroom, how might principles of universal design be used to include all
students and to foster a sense of community? How can shared ownership of expertise and
resources facilitate learning? How can discourse and talk be used to enable learning? Given
what we know about communities of learners and the social acquisition of knowledge, how
can learners be supported to use each other as resources?

Likewise, teachers in the Watkins classroom face unique dilemmas. For classrooms

where students share expertise and learning tasks, how are individual learning needs

appropriately recognized and met? Because many learning tasks are designed to involve the

290

whole group, how is active engagement supported for students with learning disabilities,
who are considered to be passive and disengaged learners? Asking students to work in peer
collaborations presents special challenges with respect to identity. The risk-reward hazard
may be particularly acute in these situations. For students whose contributions are valued,
the rewards of such interaction may be large. However, students who find themselves
marginalized in such situations where the brokering effect of the teacher may be absent may
elect to disengage from the situation.

We cannot consider these two classrooms with the depth of observation and analysis
we have applied without wondering, What could be the ideal classroom? The teacher is
key. Students may appropriate only from what is afforded, and the teacher stands as the

grand designer and broker of affordances.

291

CHAPTER 7
IMPLICATIONS

The inclusion of students with learning disabilities in general education classrooms
involves issues of affordance, participation, and appropriation. The 1997 Reauthorization
of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) encourages access to and
participation in the general education curriculum as a means for improving educational
results for students with disabilities. Such participation is believed to be important for
students’ sense of self-worth and belonging and thought to facilitate special education
students as academically and socially enabled leamers who are full participants in their
learning communities.

However, this study illustrated the need for concepts such as “access” and “general
education curriculum” to be further defined. In both classrooms, opportunities afforded,
and thus, what students had access to, became a critical issue due to contrasting teacher
beliefs, writing curricula, and instructional techniques. The findings of the study have
implications for teachers and educational researchers who work in or are involved with
inclusion contexts. Implications in the three areas of affordance, participation, and
appropriation are discussed in this chapter: (a) the influence of teacher beliefs and
curriculum design on opportunities afforded for students’ learning; (b) participation types
and structures, particularly teacher-student interactions and activity structures; and (c)
appropriation and learning in inclusion classrooms. I also discuss methodological
implications, limitations of the study, and future research directions.

i ° r n ’ Le in
flieaehet Beliefs

This study demonstrated the influence of teachers’ theories about learning, instruction,
and disability on classroom practice and students’ learning opportunities. Variations in

writing instruction in the two classrooms appeared to be linked to underlying differences in

292

epistemological stances held by the two teaching teams. Corresponding variations in the
implementation of similar instructional models have been noted by other researchers
(Gutierrez, 1994; Mariage, 1995; Turner, 1995). Clearly, both teams of teachers operated
from “orienting premises” (Vaughn & Schumm, 1996) that influenced every aspect of
classroom life and activity, and their explicit articulation of personal philosophical
perspectives was probably unusual and clearly a gift for me as the researcher.

Researchers investigating the effectiveness of intervention strategies with special needs
students need to include consideration of teacher beliefs as a possible confound affecting
fidelity to treatment. Different outcomes in the effectiveness of particular interventions may
be traced to variations in teacher theoretical orientations rather than to effectiveness of
treatment.

Teacher educators need to address teachers’ beliefs and theories about learning and
instruction in both pre-service teacher preparation and in-service teacher education.
Disagreement with or lack of understanding of the underlying principles associated with
particular teaching techniques may undermine the effectiveness of the technique. The
consequences of failing to consider teachers’ beliefs include the possibility of low fidelity
to desired instructional interventions. Because teachers might embrace a different
epistemology than that upon which a particular instructional intervention is based, their
instruction may have little power and fail to achieve intended outcomes.

1 i F r n i 1

Teachers in both of the classrooms in this study implemented instructional approaches
that required teacher collaboration, and their collaborations were more extensive than those
typically found in many general education classrooms. Rather than merely planning
adaptations and modifications of general education programming for some students, the
teachers preferred comprehensive approaches and viewed them as important in meeting the
needs of all students. Theoretically, such approaches may be considered as using principles

of universal access to curriculum (Orkwin & McLane, 1998) or as increasing the

293

instructional tolerance of classroom teachers (Scruggs & Mastropieri, 1995). Whether seen
as universally designed curricula or supports for instructional tolerance, special
modifications of general education curricula were not required for lower-performing
students. Instead of targeted modifications, students’ learning was supported by the
curriculum sequence at Ellison and by “on-line” teacher scaffolding at Watkins.

The success of these two approaches to inclusive instruction suggests the need for a
turn in research on inclusive curriculum and instruction toward the study of whole class
models of instruction, rather than modifications targeted for some students but not others.
Instructional interventions that “water down” general education curriculum for special
needs learners are unnecessary when teacher and peer support are provided for students
who require such support. By using universal approaches, inclusion can be successful, as
students will be academically and socially both included and engaged. This type of
inclusion does not preclude the use of pullout programs for some students. However,
pullout arrangements will not be permanent, and grouping patterns will be based on
specific student need, rather than on disability category.

Nevertheless, despite their success, both approaches were resource heavy, and their
accomplishment depended greatly on teachers’ skills and dispositions. The Ellison teachers
contributed enormous amounts of personal time and resources to develop and implement
the individual programming that was planned for each student. The Watkins teachers
worked within highly indeterminate interpersonal contexts, where they were required to
improvise moment-to-moment interventions benefitting each individual child, and where
traditional teacher-student roles and relationships were traded for distributed forms of
expertise. Both teaching teams were highly committed to their particular approaches, but
each approach exacted a high price in terms of personal resources. One cannot assume that
similar levels of personal dedication and service will be standard in every inclusion
classroom. Therefore, much additional research needs to be directed toward the planning

and implementation of universal curricula for classrooms with diverse learners and, most

294

importantly, the supports required to teach diverse students in inclusive contexts. Without
such supports, most teachers will be reluctant to assume inordinately heavy work
responsibilities, and effective teaching in inclusion classrooms will continue to be variable
and random.

However, responsibility for the development and availability of resources required for
alternative instructional approaches for teaching diverse students in inclusive contexts
should not be limited to the individual classroom teacher. In our society, efficiency and
division of labor have shaped our thinking about the delivery of educational services
(Skrtic, 1995). Traditionally, special education services have been specialized and
separated from the general education context. Because these teachers’ beliefs prompted
them to collaboratively instruct all students, they worked in a societal vacuum with little
building, district, or community support. Changing this societal orientation to one which
accepts and expects shared responsibility for learning and collaborative approaches to the
provision of instruction similar to those implemented by the teachers in this study may be a
difficult but, nevertheless, worthy goal.

' i i n e n re

The teachers in both classrooms engaged in teacher-student interactions and
established activity structures that have implications for both pre-service and in-service
teachers.

- r ° n

In any classroom, social interactions are the critical mediator of instructional
interventions (Reid, 1998). In the research classrooms, the type of social interaction (i.e.,
whether teachers maintained tight control over the interactions, as in the Ellison classroom,
or whether they sought to turn over decision-making to students and even to position
students to respond to one another, as in the Watkins classroom) made a substantial
difference in the classroom experiences of students with learning disabilities. Thus, at a

minimum, teachers must be aware of their personal interaction styles vis-a-vis students and

295

__'FI

the effects of their interaction styles on student learning.

However, to increase instructional flexibility, teachers must also be prepared to
employ a variety of interactive practices appropriate for specific goals and purposes of
learning (Wiggins & McTigue, 1998). These may include effective teaching techniques
uncovered in the process-product research as well as contributions from social
constructivist approaches to instruction. Accordingly, teachers will have knowledge of
under what conditions to employ teacher-directed lesson formats that include clear
introductions, effective demonstrations, well-paced presentations, and productive use of
seat work as well as shared task activity involving authentic tasks, holistic activities,
productive classroom dialogue, and collaborative work opportunities (Englert, Tarrant, &
Mariage, 1992).

A . . 5

Students in both classrooms had opportunities to work in a variety of activity
structures as they learned to write. In the Ellison classroom, students worked
independently alone, independently with interactive materials in the phonics center, in a
large group in a recitation format, or in a large group in a collaborative format. Students at
Watkins worked independently, with peers in dyads or small groups, or in large group
collaborative formats. Each activity structure had unique opportunities for participation.

Independent tasks allowed students to demonstrate autonomous achievement.
Independent work might facilitate learning in two ways. First, as they work individually,
students are relieved of the demands of simultaneously constructing identities, as they do in
social interaction. Second, attentional demands are greatly reduced. However, if tasks are
predominantly independent, students may lack opportunities to experience advantages of
peer interaction, which may both provide assistance for difficult tasks as well as allow
students to learn by providing assistance to others. Teachers need to use independent
activity structures effectively, but need to balance these with other types of student

engagement.

296

 

Small group work allowed students to explore new task requirements with the
collaborative support of their peers. However, these experiences can also have negative
effects. At Watkins, students with learning disabilities involved in small group activities did
not necessarily have access to either the cognitive activity or the co-constructed artifacts.
Two implications might be derived from these findings. First, results of this study are
congruent with research on small group dynamics and cooperative learning in suggesting
that use of alternate participation frameworks requires careful planning and preparation of
students for unfamiliar forms of interaction and engagement. Second, the experiences of
these students adds weight to the argument for retaining the continuum of services for
students with disabilities. Perhaps pullouts in early years could be more effective in both
individualizing instruction and constructing identities. After all, get reading and writing are
detrimental to constructing a positive identity.

Large group participation structures were either recitation lessons or collaborative text
construction. Although recitations are traditional activity structures (Mehan, 1979), the
teachers at Watkins made a conscious effort to step out of this conventional structure in
order to empower students as co-participants in the instructional event. This powerful
teaching technique positioned students in roles typically associated with teachers, which
included calling on students and challenging teacher or student responses. Students with
disabilities used this opportunity to observe peers performing complex learning tasks, tasks
to which they might not otherwise have access in another classroom where basic sldlls
instruction is emphasized for students with disabilities. However, students did more than
merely observe; they had opportunities to be involved in integral roles in the task. Teachers
who wish to teach in inclusive settings must find and learn similar instructional techniques
in order to fully integrate all students into the academic and social life of the classroom
community.

To summarize, teachers must consider the range of different types of interactional

opportunities available to students in their classrooms, and the four learning spaces (i.e.,

297

standard, guided, collaborative, and autonomous) provide a useful heuristic for this
purpose. While most teachers are probably well aware of cooperative learning models of
instruction and grouping, cooperative grouping schemes seem to be targeted toward
specific uses such as problem-solving tasks. Teachers need to be made equally aware of the
benefits of peer interactions for other types of learning. If teachers are cognizant of the
desirability of promoting peer interactions in a variety of grouping schemes and their
application toward a variety of tasks, they may search for other models of interaction to
accommodate varying goals and purposes for learning, rather than rely only on customary
or narrowly-applied configurations.

Apprepriatien aud Leamiug

We as educators, and particularly as special educators, often assume that affordances
are directly appropriated by students and result in learning. In other words, we want to
believe that what we teach is what students learn. This probably derives from a linear
notion of transference of knowledge, and the belief that knowledge can be handed over to
fill students’ empty heads. In this study, however, in addition to stated curricular
objectives, student learning was also affected by the established discourse of the
community of practice to which they belong.

Broadly construed, the students in both the Ellison Team Room and the Watkins
inclusion classroom learned to write. However, the um'tteu artifacts tell only part of the
story. The teachers in both classrooms had both material and social goals for students’
writing achievement. This study demonstrated that, without looking at the digmuse and
other semiotic resources available, we are likely to miss the bulk of student experience and
learning. Students’ writing achievement must be evaluated with both material and social
goals in mind in order to determine whether or not they were successful writers in their
respective classroom communities.

Yet, this begs important questions -- Do these students become more competent

writers several years down the road, and do they transfer their writing skills to other

298

contexts and purposes? Longitudinal data are required to address this issue.
M h l ' Im i i n

Several implications for methodology are suggested by this study. The first involves
the relationship between individual and social learning (Salomon & Perkins, 1998), with
the methodological issue being selection of an appropriate unit of analysis (Trent, Artilles,
& Englert, 1998). This study sought to examine the individual in context. To do so, I
foregrounded aspects of one or the other at different times. Observations of group lessons
focused on social interactions and affordances available in the group and environment.
Examination of individual engagement and writing samples foregrounded individual
learning and development. Both were necessary to understand the learning experiences of
students with disabilities in inclusive contexts.

A second implication involves research design. Many studies of educational
programming for students with learning disabilities involve single subject designs in
evaluating effectiveness of instruction and learning outcomes. Other studies seek to provide
descriptive data about students’ interactions in the classroom (Bulgren & Carta, 1992) by
use of checklists and coding schemes. However, this type of data has limited usefulness
for close examination of in situ classroom interactions.

This study involved ethnography in seeking to understand the learning experiences of
students with disabilities. Not only was student interaction studied in the context in which it
occurred, but also context was considered as constitutive of opportunity to learn. Since
both individual and context were foci of the study, multiple tools were used to collect
information. Accumulation of multiple types of data resulted in a more complex data
reduction and analyses project, but also ultimately deeper understandings of students
learning and classroom life. Researchers who wish to derive a fuller understanding of how
students with disabilities fare in general education contexts must engage in holistic and
comprehensive studies that investigate the individual learner in context, as well as take into

consideration a child’s strengths and weaknesses with respect to visual and auditory

299

Pl'll'i'iilliirlli

 

processing, executive control, regulation of attention, short- and long-term memory, verbal
expression, and so on.
i i ' ' i 11

Several methodological limitations bounded the generalizability of the study. First, the
teachers and students were not a random sample but were selected on the basis of their
epistemological beliefs and reputed effectiveness as teachers. Second, only two classrooms
were examined, thus limiting the generalizability of results. Third, because of limited
numbers of videotaped observations in the classrooms, representativeness of data cannot be
ensured beyond my familiarity as researcher with the patterns of instruction common to
each classroom.

Other limitations of this research point to directions for further investigations. Few
quantitative data were collected about time on task. Additional studies of inclusion
classrooms should include detailed data regarding both time on task and engaged time as
broad indicators of student activity and to enable evaluation of student engagement with
respect to known patterns of task engagement of students with learning disabilities. These
data, together with data addressing quality and nature of interactions, can provide more
comprehensive information about student engagement.

In both data collection and analysis, not as much attention was given to the
development of the construct of appropriation as I had hoped. A greater involvement in the
classroom and collection of larger amounts of data would allow a deeper focus on
individual students and how they come to appropriate what they eventually display as
learning. This focus would include evaluations of student temperament and “personal
stimulus qualities” that shape their learning and social interactions (Bronfenbrenner, 1992;
Orth & Martin, 1994).

In addition, the design of this study precluded multi-year data collection, important for
following the learning development of students with learning disabilities. It has been

shown that students’ learning develops unevenly over time and that longitudinal research

300

designs are more useful in being able to detect learning patterns and development (Englert
et al., 1995). Richard’s writing achievement, for example, must be examined in the light of
his performance the previous year, when he destroyed most of his written work before it
was completed. With that perspective, his careful construction of written texts during the
study year must be viewed as an important achievement. Inferences about Dustin’s seeming
lack of writing progress should properly be withheld until subsequent years, because the
firture development of his writing skills will likely have had their beginnings during this
academic year. Future research on this topic will be longitudinal to be maximally
informative.
e i n F r B l ssr m

In practical terms, the most critical issue with respect to inclusive environments
involves teachers’ skills and knowledge in adequately and effectively meeting the unique
learning needs of students with disabilities in the context of general education. Stated
otherwise, teaching in inclusive contexts requires teachers to work in two paradigms, and
these must be balanced. The paradigm of general education requires teachers to attend to
group needs, while teachers working in a special education paradigm focus on the strengths
and weaknesses of individual students. Perhaps the teaching team at Ellison emphasized
attention to individual needs at the expense of community building. Perhaps the Watkins
teachers’ commitment to community overshadowed attention to the unique learning needs
of individual students. How to maintain an appropriate balance is a constant challenge, but
one that can be met when the collaborative efforts of school people, university personnel,
and community members focus on preparing teachers, providing necessary supports, and

changing societal views about educational access and achievement.

301

   

  
 
 

. . r. V w. . o 6. un‘ .L. . . . .

.. ...... ...: . .....H. a $2,. . ......e...... ., , .

...... ... .. . z... ...... . . .. ... . 9... 1.3.2... . . . : . Lax ....
.u L . . . .. . .. . . .

. ~. ...
t..: .L.

.. .. .....vb... «,.....
.39.. 913...?

. .
...T...'t...l: ..v... 3‘... .

      

     
  

. ... as
.. I... ... .. . .
..u .. . .. «a .3. . ...

 

3 . _
.o

...1. 3 . L
.

  

 

. turnip-

 

302

APPENDIX

Initial Teacher Interview

A. Questions about your teaching background.

1.

2.
3.

 

Please describe your teaching background in terms of preparation, years of
experience, and grade levels taught.

Why are you interested in teaching students with disabilities?

How did you come to teach in a collaborative teaching team in an inclusion classroom?

B. Questions about youngeneral writing program.

4.

10.

ll.

12.

l3.

14.

15.

l6.

17.

18.

 

Please describe the writing instruction you will be providing this year (when and how
do you teach writing?)

What are your academic/leaming goals for writing instruction? social goals?

How do you plan writing instruction (over the year, from day to day)?

What are the different kinds of texts students write in your classroom? (journals,
stories, reports, etc)?

What instructions, guidance, or rules do you provide for each type of writing?
How did develop your writing program? Where did you get your ideas?
How have your ideas about teaching writing changed over time?

Will your writing instruction be different this year than last year? Please explain.

Questions about writing instruction for nonwriters

What are the key principles or components of a writing program that are likely to help
nonwriters become writers?

What are the important scaffolds or supports that you use in your writing instruction
that help the lowest-performing students in your classroom be successful?

Are there other promising techniques or strategies that you feel are successfirl with
nonwriters? Are there things that don’t seem to work?

What do you believe to be the major problems or barriers that inhibit the progress of
nonwriters?

What are your thoughts about what teachers should do to accelerate the performance of
nonwriters?

How do you accommodate a wide range of student needs (both regular education and
special education) regarding writing instruction?

Your classroom is an inclusion classroom. Are there advantages for students with l
disabilities in an rnclusr on versus pullout context?

303

19.

20.

21.

22.

'n n’n n hr’x in

Do the regular education and special education students in your room have different
needs in terms of writing instruction? Please explain.

Do you have different expectations for regular education and special education
students? Please explain.

How do you measure or evaluate success for regular education students? special needs
students?

How confident are you that your nonwriters will make progress in your room this
year? What kind of progress do you hope they will make?

304

 

Final Teacher Interview

A. Questions about the effectiveness of gour general writing program this year

1.
2.

9.

Please describe the writing instruction you provided this year.

What were the different kinds of texts students wrote in your classroom? (journals,
stories, reports, etc)?

What instructions, guidance, or rules did you provide for each type of writing?

Were there any particular successes in your writing program this year (events or
particular students)? Please describe.

Were there any problems or disappointments? Please describe.

Were there any challenges for you (personal challenges or student challenges)? How
did/are you dealing with these challenges?

Have you developed any new insights into principles, activities, or strategies that seem
helpful to your students?

I noticed that (open-ended for the researcher to focus on a particular
practice, event, student, etc). Please say more about this (in terms of description and
evaluation of success).

 

Did your writing instruction differ from last year? Please explain.

10. Are you considering further changes for next year? Please explain.

B. Questions about students’ needs and teachers’ expectations

ll.

12.

13.

Did you find that the regular education and special education students in your room
had different needs in terms of writing instruction? Please explain.

Did you have different expectations for regular education and special education
students? Please explain.

How did you accommodate a wide range of student needs (both regular education and
special education) regarding writing instruction?

305

A .
“AAA. » '

Writing Strategy Interview
Directions: (1) For the teacher: Circle the response for each item that is closest to your
impression of the student’s writing strategies and behaviors. Respond in the blank space as
appropriate. (2) For the student: Circle the response for each item that best describes your
writing strategies and habits. If none of the choices seem to describe what you do, you may
write a better response on the blank lines. You may wish to choose more than one response
for some items. (The student may have the items read aloud to her or him.)

1. When I have to write a paper for school, I:
(a) don’t know where to begin.
(b) know what to do first.
(0) other:

 

2. Before I write, I:
(a) plan my ideas on paper.
(b) plan my ideas in my head.
(c) don’t plan; I just start writing.
(d) other:

 

3. When I am writing and spelling words, I:
(a) usually spell all the words correctly.
(b) forget how to spell words.
(c) just try to spell the best I can.
(d) ask a teacher or friend if I don’t know how to spell a word.
(e) leave a blank space for a word I don’t know how to spell and ask someone later.
(f) other:

 

4. When I am writing, I:
(a) try to think of my audience.
(b) don’t think about who I am writing to.
(c) try to answer all of the questions that a reader might ask.
(d) other:

 

5. When I am writing, I:
(a) try to choose words that make my paper interesting.
(b) choose words that I know how to spell.
(c) other:

 

6. When I am writing, I:
(a) make sure my paper has a beginning, middle, and end.
(b) other:

 

7. When I am done writing, I:
(a) read over my paper to make sure it makes sense.
(b) read it to someone else to make sure it makes sense.
(c) ask someone else to read it to make sure it makes sense.
((1) other:

 

3. When I am done writing, I:
(a) read over my paper and edit it.
(b) type my paper on the computer.
(c) just hand it in.
(d) other:

 

306

l

 

Teacher Temperament Questionnaire

Name of student: Name of teacher:

Short form of the Teacher Temperament Questionnaire (Keogh Pullis, ls Cadwell, 1982). Copyright 1982 by the National Council on

Measurement in Education. Adapted with permission of the publisher.

 

 

Item

 

Hardly
ever
1

Almost
always

 

Factor I: Persistence/Distractibihty/ Activity

 

Childseemstohsve difficulty sittingstill.nnywriggleslotorgetoutofscat.

 

If child’s activity is interrupted. helshe tries to get back to the activity.

 

Child is easily drawn away from his/her work by noises. something outside the
window. mother child’s whispering. etc.

 

Child can contimse at the same activity for an horn.

 

Qfldis abletositquietlyforareasonableamotmtoftime(as comparedto
classmates).

 

Childcannothedistracted whmhelsheisworking (seems abletoconcentrateinthe
midst of bedlam).

 

Ifotherehildrenare talking ormakingnoise while teacheris explaining alessou.
this child remains attentive to the teacher.

 

Grildstartsanactivityanddoesnotfinishit.

 

Childsits still whensstoryisbeingtoldorread.

 

l

 

Factor II: Adaptability/Approach-Withdnwal/Mood

 

Whenwithotherchflthmthischildseernstobehavingagoodtime.

l

 

Child will initially avoid new games and activitiespreferring to sit on the side and
watch.

I

 

Child enjoys goingtmerrands forthe teacher.

 

If initially hesitant about entering into new games lid activities. child gets over
this quickly.

 

Child takes along time to become conu'ortahle in a new physical location (e.g.,
different classroom new seat. etc).

 

Child will ahowlittleornoreactionwhenanotherchildtakeshislhertoyor
possession away.

 

Child plunges into new activities and situations without hesitation.

 

Child takes a log time to become comfortable in s new situation.

 

Child is bashful when meeting new children.

 

 

Factor [11: Reactivity

 

Whenplsyingwithotherchflrhmmischildargueswiththern.

 

Childis sensitivetotemperanneandlikelytocommentonclsssroanbeinghotor
cold.

 

Child ovmeacts (becomes very upset) in a stressful situation.

 

When child can't have or do something helshe wants. child becomes annoyed or
upset.

 

 

Child is highly sensitive to changes in the brightness or dimness of light.

 

 

307

 

REFERENCE S

308

REFERENCES

Allington, R. L (1995). Literacy lessons 1n the elementary schools: Yesterday, today,
and tomorrow. In R. L Allington & S. A. Walmsley (Eds.,) Ne quiek fix; Rethinkiug

me 1-15) New York: Teachers
College Press.

Allington, R. L. ,& Shake, M. C. (1986). Remedial reading: Achieving curricular
congruence in classroom and clinic. WU), 648- 654

Almasi, J. R, Anderson, E., Russell, W. S., & Guthrie, J. T. (1998, December).
111 111W1r-‘7rA1111 1.1-1. 1i- m 1.11‘1,.-nrnl-.. vi1-_-111r.-1r’

p eer ruiseussiuus Qt infurmauun nla tex t, Paper pfesented at the National Reading

Conference, Austin, TX.

Alves, A. J. & Gottlieb, J. (1986). Teacher 1nteractrons with mainstreamed

handicapped students and their nonhandicapped peers. WU),
77- 83.

Ames, C. (1992). Classrooms: Goals, structure, and student motrvatron Lgumamf
_eeeaeenflmheoLG) 261-271

Angrosino, M. V., & Mays de Pérez, K. A. (2000). Rethinking observation. From
method to context. InN. K. Denzin& Y. S. Lincoln (Eds), Haudboukeflquahtattue
_eseateh(2nd ed. ,p.p 673- 702). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Applebee, A. N. (1996). W Chicago: The University of
Chicago Press.

Au, K., & Carroll, J. H. (1996). Current research on classroom instruction: Goals,
teachers’ actions, and assessment. InD. L. Speece& B. K. Keogh (Eds), Researehuu

. 1111‘ 119' 111 1.11f1-.1_111111 1.1 --11111. 11 1 (pp.
17- 38). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Bakhtin, M. M. (1986). SueeehgeutesaudgtheLLateessays (C. Emerson & M.

Holquist, Eds.) (V. W. McGee, Trans). Austin: University of Texas Press.

Barnes, D. (1993). Supporting exploratory talk for leamrng InK. M Pierce& C. J.
Gilles(Eds.), 11f '1i11'Ex 1 __1 h 11 en1l1 lkinle mi 1 1111 hi
(pp. 17- 34). Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Baumrind, D. (1991). The influence of parenting style on adolescent competence and

substance use. leumelofEsdyAdelrseeneeJlU), 56-95.

Beach, S. A. (1994). Teacher'stheories and classroom practice. Beliefs, knowledge,
or context? WW6) 189-196

Berry, R. A. (1998, April).F leer manager; Teaeher strategies in a first-grade beuk
diseussum, Paper presentation at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research

Association, San Diego, CA.
Biemiller, A., & Meichenbaum, D. (1998). MW

309

ur- 11W -- ‘ n-.. 11 Aron 1n ’ “T1 ‘ 1.1-1.11f

seatfuldjtig; 115 1.111er: fut the field ufleam rng disabilities” 311(4), 365 369).m

Bissex G L (1996) WM
tesearehmgPortsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Bloome, D. (1989). Beyond access: An ethnographic study of reading and writing in a

seventh grade classroom. In D. Bloome (Ed. ),Qlaero_o_n1s_aud_litetagL, Norwood, NJ:
Ablex.

Bloom, B. S., & Krathwohl, D. R. (1956). flfaxunemy Qt edueatiunal ebjeetjyes; The
WWW New York: Longmans

Green.

Bloome, D., & Egan-Robertson, A. (1993). The social construction of intertextuality
in classroom reading and writing lessons. WW“), 305-333.

Bloome, D. ,& Green, J. L (1992). Educational contexts of l1teracy Annual Review
oLAeelredIangmstres— 2-49 70

Boundy, K. (1998). IDEA '97, Paper presented at the Citizens Alliance to Uphold
Special Education, Lansing, MI.

Brantlinger, E. (1996). Influence of preservice teachers' beliefs about pupil

achievement on attitudes toward inclusion. E
12(1), 17- 33
Brock, C. H. (1997). E l ' l n' i r
' ' ll r ' Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Michigan State
University.

Bronfenbrenner, U. (1992). Ecological systems theory In R. Vasta (Ed) Ann nal s ef
-11111 ‘ .,‘1‘11111RV1f 111 11 ..1
issues (pp. 187-249). London: Jessica Kingsley.

Brostrdm, S. (1999). Drama games with 6-year-old children: Possibilities and
limitations. InY. Engestrom, R. Miettinen, & R. Punamaki (Eds.,) Petspeemsuu
WWI). 250-263). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Brown, A. L. Ash, D., Rutherford, M. ,,Nakagawa K., Gordon, A., & Campione,
J. (1993). Distributed expertise in the classroom. InG Salomon (Ed.,) Distributed

eegnrtronLBsyeeogrealaeedeeatroealseeuderaeeesmp 188-228) Cambridge

Cambridge University Press.

Brown, A, & Reeve, R. A. (1987). Bandwidths of competence: The role of
supportive contexts in learning and development. In L. S. Liben (Ed), W
leamrngLenflreteJongnmmp. 173-223) Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum

Associates.

Brown, J. 8., Collins, A., & Duguid, P. (1989). Situated cognition and the culture of
learning EdeeaeeealkessrchLLU), 32-42

Brownell, M. T., & Pajares, F. (1999). Teacher efficacy and perceived success in

310

mainstreaming students with learning and behavior problems. Teaeher Edueati ruu an nd
Speei 1a] Eidueat ruu,2 2,(3) 154-164.

Brophy, J. E., & Good, T. L. (1974). Teachers’ communication of differential
expectations for children’s classroom performance: Some behavioral data. Journal at

13111193119111; Bsyehulugy, 61(5), 365-374.

Bryan, T., Bay, M. & Donahue, M. (1988). Implications of the learning disabilities
definition for the regular education initiative. o m f L min i ili 'e (1), 23-
28.

Buckland, M. & Croll, P. (1987). Classroom organisation and interactions of pupils
with moderate learning difficulties in mainstream and special schools.E W

Speeial ue edsEdueati en, 2(2) 75 87

Bulgren, J. A., & Carta, J. J. (1992). Examining the instructional contexts of students

with learning disabilities. Exeeptienal thldren, 59(3), 182-191.
Burbules, N. C. (1993). Qialegue iu teaehing; Theoty and praetice. New York:

Teachers College Press.

Calkins, L. M. (1986). MW Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Cancelli, A. S, Friedman, D. L. ,Harris, A., & Yoshida, R. (1993). Type of
instruction and the relationship of classroom behavior to achievement among learning

disabled children. las r mIn r i n 28 (1), 13-19.
Cazden, C. B. (1988). Qlassrmm diseuutse; [he language uf teaehing and learuing.

Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Cohen, E. G. (1994). Restructuring the classroom: Conditions for productive small

groups. WWO) 1 -35
Cole, M, & Engestrom, Y. (1993) Acultural- historical alpproachn to distributed
cognition. InG. Salomon, (Ed), Di 11 PS ti n

eudsjdgatious (pp. 1-46). New York: Cambridge University Plresls.

Collins, A., Brown, J. S., & Newman, S. E. (1989). Cognitive apprenticeship:
Teaching the crafts of reading, writing, and mathematics. In L. B. Resnick (Ed),
n1 1.11:.- i 1 .111 'n - i11' E 1 '1h11nr111fRe 1 er (pp. 453-494).
Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Cooper, D. H, & Valli, L. R. (1996). Designing classrooms for rnclusron Beyond
management InD. L. Speece&B. K. Keogh (Eds.,) R r h l s r
-11_1_o-111,1__1_l 11 1 11 1.11 11i11 1i1lr (pp. 143-162) Mahwah,
NJ: Erlbaum.

Coupland, N., & Nussbaum, J. F. (1993). Discursively formulating the lifespan. In
N. Coupland, & Nussbaum, J. F. (Ed), Diseuurse and lifespau identity (pp. 1-3).
Newbury Park, CA: Sage.

D’Alonzo, B. J., Giordano, G., & Cross, T. L. (1995). Inclusion: Seeking
educational excellence for students with disabilities. Teacher Edueatur, 31(1), 82—95.

311

Davis, A. Clarke, M. A., & Rhodes, L. K. (1994) Extended text and the writing

proficiency of students in urban elementary schools. Journal of Eoooational Psychology,
8_6, 556-566.

Dewey, J. 1963 [1938]. MW London: Collier.

Dorn, S. ,,Fuchs D. & Fuchs, L. S (1996). Historical perspective 1n special
education reform. Ih eoryr irntoE raotiSoo,3 (1), 12-19.

Doyle, W. (1992). Cuniculum and pedagogy. In P. W. Jackson (Ed.,) flthQQkJLf
W®p 486- 516). New York: Macmillan

Dudley-Marlins C- (1998, March)Lanwa.sc..po.m.amL11m’ng_d_isalLiljnes Paper
presented at the 19th annual Ethnography in Education Research Forum, Philadelphia.

Dudley-Marling, C. ,& Stires, S (1992). Including all students within a community
of leamers W6) 356- 371

Edwards, D., & Mercer, N. (1987). Commonkngmloogo, London: Methuen.

Edwards, A. D., & Westgate, D. P. G. (1987).1ny_ostigating_c_lass[oom_taj_k, London:
The Falmer Press.

Englert, C. S. (1992). Writing instruction from a sociocultural perspective: The

holistic, dialogic, and social enterprise of writing. loomal of Loaming Di sabilitj as, 25(3 ),
153-172.

Englert, C. S- (1998, October). WWW
Projoot. Conference presentation at the 20th International Conference on Learning
Disabilities, Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Englert, C. S.,Ber1y, R. A., &Dunsmore, K. (1998, December). Mothooologioal

11-:111'_u11111-11'-11'1:1r 1_'1111flir1
WWW Paper presented at the 48th annual National Reading Conference,
Austin, TX.

Englert, C. S. ,Berry, R., & Dunsmore, K (2001). A case study of the
apprenticeship process: Another perspective on the apprentice and the scaffolding

metaphor. We) 152 171

Englert, C. S. Gannon, A. ,Mariage, T., Rozendal, M., Tarrant, K, & Urba, J.
(1993). The early literacy project: Connecting across the literacy curriculum Learning
MW 253-275

Englert, C. S., & Mariage, T. V. (1996). A sociocultural perspective: Teaching ways-
of-thinking and ways-of-talking in a literacy community. e min Di ili i

121111111110), 157-167.
Englert, C. S., & Palincsar, A. (1991). Reconsidering instructional research in

literacy from a sociocultural perspective. Learning Disabilities Researoh & Praon'oo, 6, 225-
229.

312

Englert, C. S., & Raphael, T. E. (1988). Constructive well- formed prose: Process,
structure, and metacognitive knowledge. W1 513 -520.

Englert, C. S. ,,Raphael T E ,& Mariage, T. V (1994). Developinga school- based
discourse for lrteracy learning: A principled search for understandingL oarning Di 1sa bilitios

W232

Englert, C. S., & Rozendal, M. S. (1996). Nonreaders and nonwriters in special

education: Crossing new literacy thresholds. Reading an nd Wnong; An Intordisoiplinaiy
LoumaLJi 87- 103

Englert, C. S., Rozendal, M. S., Mariage, M. (1994). Fostering the search for
understanding: A teacher's strategies for leading cognitive development in "zones of
proximal development.” L in Di 'li erl 17, 187-204.

Englert, C. S., Tarrant, K. L., & Mariage, T V. (1992). Defining and redefining
instructional practice in special education: Perspectives on good teaching. fljoaoh or

WW9) 62- 86

Erickson, F. (1996). Inclusion into what? Thoughts on the construction of learning,
identity, and affiliation in the general education classroom. In D. L. Speece & B. K. Keogh
(Eds.,)’ '1-11 11‘1111'119'.11111. 1 1 .111 11'111

W®p 91-106). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.

Erickson, F. & Shultz, J. (1992) Students’ experience of the curriculum. In P. W.
Jackson (Ed. ), Handbook of iesoaroh on onniool om (pp. 465-485). New York:

Macmillan.

Evans, K. S. (1997). Exploring the complexities or peer-led literature discussions:
The influerice of gender In J. R. Paratore & R. L. McCormack (Eds) _P_e_er_taik_in_tho

WW (pp. 156-173). Newark, DE. International Reading

Association.

Fairclough, N. (1989). Langmggandpmyen London: Longman.

Forrnan, E. A., & McCormick, D. E. (1995). Discourse analysis: A sociocultural
perspective. m i l i 1E ' 11 16(3), 150-158.

Fuchs, D. ,& Fuchs, L. S (1994). Inclusive schools movement and the radicalization

of special education reform. Mom—(4), 294- 309.

Gallimore, R., & Tharp, R. (1990). Teaching mind in society: Teaching, schooling,

and literate discourse. In L. C. Moll (Ed), Vygotsky and odooation (pp. 175-205).
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Gardner, H. (1983). Erarnos of Mind; {1 ho thoory of moltiplo intolligenoos, New York:

_BasicBooks.

Gee, J. P. (1989). What is literaoy? (Tech. Rep. No. 2). Newton, MA: The Literacies
Institute, Education Development Center, Inc.

Gee, J. P. (1992). Tho sooial in ind; Langiiago, ideology and sooial praon'os. New
York: Bergin & Garvey.

313

Gee, J. P., & Green, J. L. (1998). Discourse analysis, learning, and social practice: A
methodological study. Roviow of Rssearoh in Ednoation, 23, 119-169.

Geertz, C. ( 1973) Thick description. Toward an interpretive theory of culture.T _ho
WW (pp. 3- 30) New York: Basic Books.

Gehrke, N. J. ,Knapp, M. S., & Sirotnik, K. A. (1992). In search of the school

curriculum W11, 51- 112
Giddens, A. (1990). Contr a1 probloms in sooia! thooiy; Aotion, stniotoro and

_onttadiotioinnsogaLanaiyss, Los Angeles: University of California Press.

Gindis, B. (1995). The social/cultural implication of disability: Vygotsky's paradigm
for special education. Edooational Psyohologist, 30(2), 77-81.

Www.globalearn.org (2000)

Goatley, V. J. (1995). Diverse learners participating in regular education “Book
Clubs”. WWWO) 352 380

Good, T. L., & Brophy, J. E. (1978). Looking in olassrooms. New York:
HarperCollins.

Graham, S., & Harris, K. R. (1994). Implications of constructivism for teaching
writing to students with special needs. S ' l E ' 28(3), 275-289.

Graves, D. H (1991). All children can write.e In S. Stires (Ed.,)

(pp. 115-125). Portsmouth, NH:
Heinemann.

Greeno, J G., Collins, A. M, & Resnick, L. B. (1996) Cognition and learning In
D. C. Berliner&R. C. Calfee (Eds), Handinflofjdooanonalpsyohologywp 15-46).

New York. Macmillan.

Greenwood, C. R, & Maheady, L (1997) Measurable change 1n student

performance: Forgotten standard in teacher preparation? WM
WG) 265 275

Gumperz, J. J (1986). Introduction. InJ. J Gumperz& D. Hymes (Eds.,)
D'111 11 1.1a .- _I1'111_1111 O 11-111.-:(pp125)BaSil
Blackwell.

Gutierrez, K. (1994). How talk, context, and script shape contexts for learning: A
cross-case comparison of journal sharing Linguistics and Edooati ion, 5, 335- 365.

Gutierrez, K. D. (1995). Unpackaging academic discourse. Disoonrso Ptooesses, 19,
21-37.

Gutierrez, K., Baquedano-Lopez, R, Turner, M. G. (1997). Putting language back
into language arts: When the radical middle meets the third space. ngoage Ants, 74(5),
368-378.

314

Gutierrez, K. & Rymes, B. (1995). Script, counterscript, and underlrfe 1n the
classroom: James Brown versus Brownv. Board of Educatron Hammemfl
Review, 65(3), 445-471.

Gutierrez, K D., & Stone, L. D. (1997) A cultural- historical view of learning and
learning disabilities. Participating in a community of learners. W
WWWQL 123-131

Haas, N. (1998, April). fl he semiosis e: inelusion, Paper presented at the annual
conference of the American Educational Research Association, San Diego.

Hallahan, D. P., Keller, C. E. ,McKinney, J. D. ,,Lloyd J W., & Bryan, T. (1988).
Examining the research base of the Regular Education Initiative. Effr cacy studies and the

Adaptive Learning Environments Model. a[gquna_gl_‘_L_ear_n_1_r_1gJlsab_ht_1_es,_2_1(1), 29- 55.

Halliday, M. A. K., & Martin, J. R. (1993). ri i
met. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press.

Harré, R. & Langenhove, L. van. (1999). The dynamics of social episodes. In R.

Harré, & L. van Langenhove (Eds) mmmmummmmmnm
39111211, Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishers.

Harrington, S. A. (1997). Full inclusion for students withleaming disabilities: A
review of the evidence. W0), 63 -71.

Hicks, D. (1994). Individual and social meanings in the classroom. Narrative

discourse as a boundary phenomenon. WW6), 215-
240.

Hicks, D. (1995). Discourse, learning, and teachtng Review ef Researehin
W141 9-5

Janesick, V. J. (2000) The choreography of qualitative research design: Minuets,
improvisations, and crystallization. In N. K. Denzin& Y. S Lincoln (Eds), W

wand ed. ,.pp 379- 399). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Johnson, D. W. & Johnson, R. T. (1999). Making cooperative learning work.
W183) 67-73.

Jordan, A. ,Lindsay, L, & Stanovich, P. J. (1997) Classroom teachers' instructional
interactions with students wlio are exceptional, at risk, and typically achieving. Remedial

WQL 82- 93

Kachur, R, & Prendergast, C. (1995). A closer look at authentic interaction Profiles
of teacher-student talk in two classrooms. In M. Nystrand (Ed)
11: 111° .1 11111 1. 34 ‘ 1-11 :11in°i1Enl -1111115r(pp.75-
87). New York: Teachers College Press.

Kauffman, J. M. (1993). How we might achieve the radical reform of special
education WU), 6-16

Kauffman, J. M, Gerber, M. M., & Semmel, M I (1988). Arguable assumptions
underlying the regular education initiative. W0), 6- 11

315

Kauffman, J M., & Hallahan, D P. (1997) Adiversity of restrictive environments:
Placement as aproblem of social ecology. InJ. W. Lloyd, E. J Kameenui, & D. Chard

(EdS)1lssycs_1n_cdu_can_g_amd__tmrtb_d_samhncs(pp 325- 342) Mahwah1NJi

Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Keefe, C. H., & Davis, R. (1998). Inclusion means... NASSE Bulletin, 82(594), 54-
64.

Keogh, B. K., Pullis, M. E., Cadwell, J. (1982). A short form of the teacher
temperament questionnaire. ernal ef Edeeatjenaj Measurement, 19(4), 323-329.

King- -,Sears M E. (1997) Best academic practices for inclusive classrooms. Focus

91] Ex eeptienal Children, 29 (7), l -22.

Laboratory for Student Success. 11 'n iversi :Th A a iv Le minr

WM; [On- line]. Available:
http: //www temple. edu/LSS/ALEM. htrn, April 4, 2001.

Lave, J. (1996). Teaching, as learning, in practice. Mind, Cultttre, and Activity, 3(3),
149-164.

Lave, J . & Wenger, E. (1991).Srtuated_teammg1egitimatc_p_cnpheramrtrgnanon
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Lemke, J . (1990).IalL<mg§fl§m;nguagc.icaming1fldlalu§i Norwood, NJ :
Ablex.

Lin, L. (1994). Language of and 1n the classroom: Constructing the patterns of social

life WW1 5367 409
Lincoln, Y., & Guba, E. (1985). Wm Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.

Lipsky, D. K., & Gartner, A. (1996). Inclusion, school restructuring, and the
remaking of American society. Harvard Edueaflenal Review, 66(4), 762-796.

Lipsky, D. K., & Gartner, A. (1998). Factors for successful inclusion. Learning from
the past, looking toward the future In S. J. Vitello & D. E. Mithaug (Eds), Inelesive

WWWQp 98-112) Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.

Madden, N. A. Slavin, R. E., Karweit, N. L., Dolan, L.,J. & Wasik, B A. (1993).
Success for all: Longitudinal effects of a restructuring program for inner-city elementary

schools. Amerjean Edueatienal Researeh Jeumal, 30,123-148.

Manset, G., & Semmel, M. I. (1997). Are inclusive programs for students with mild
disabilities effective? A comparative review of model programs. The Jeum 3] Qt: Speei g1
Educahmil(2)1155-180

Mariage, T. V (1995) Why students learn. The nature of teacher talk during reading.
Wigwam 214-34

Mariage, T. V.(1996). n i n n ons i n f
111 11:11-. ‘11- 1111 1. I11 1. _°1'1_lini' ‘ minin 1f htin° hair11

316

mumingmessage, Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Michigan State University.

Marks, D. (1999). Disability; gzentteversial debates and psyeheseeial perspectives.
London: Routledge.

McDennott, R. (1993). The acquisition of a child by a learning disability In S.
Chaiklin & J. Lave (Eds. ), Pr
(pp. 269- 305) New York: Cambridge

 

McIntosh, R Vaughn, S. Schumm, J. S. ,Haager, D., & Lee, 0. (1993)
Observations of students with learning disabilities 1n general education classrooms.

ExceptionaLChfldLmLO), 249- 261

McMahon, S I., & Raphael, T. E (1997) The Book Club Program: Theoretical and
research foundations In S I. McMahon & T. E. Raphael (Eds.,) Il_1e Beek $21 up

ggenn neetien; Liter aey learning an nd e1 assr eem ta 11; (pp 3 -25) New York: Teachers College

Press

Mehan, H. (1979). Learning lessens; Soeial erganization in the classroom
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Meredith, B. & Underwood, J. (1995). Irreconcilable differences? Defining the rising

conflict between regular and special education. we), 195-
226.

Michaels, S. ,& O'Connor, M. C. (1990). Literaey as reaspning within inultiple
1i i n f r li n lref Paper presented at the Council
of Chief State School Officers 1990 Summer Institute: Restructuring learning.

Miles1 M1 B1 & Huberman1 A. M. (1994). WWW
senteebedk (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Nicolopoulou, A., & Cole, M. (1993). The Fifth Dimension, its play-world, and its
institutional contexts: The generation and transmission of shared knowledge 1n the culture
of collaborative learning. In E. Forman, N Minick, & A Stone (Eds ), Cen nte)_(ts fer

WWW Oxford: Oxford University

Press.

Nystrand, M. (1995). Qpeningdialogue, New York: Teachers College Press.

Nystrand, M., & Gamoran, A. (1991). Student engagement: When recitation becomes

conversation. In H. C. Waxman & H. J. Walberg (Eds), Effeetiye Teaehing; Cuttent
Reseancn (pp. 257-276). Berkeley, CA: McCutchan Publishing.

O',Connor M. C., & Michaels, S (1993). Shifting participant frameworks:
Orchestrating thinking practices in group discussion In D. Hicks, (Ed.,) Disceurse e,

W (pp 63- 103). New York. Cambridge University Press

Orkwin, R., & McLane, K. A eur_rieulum eveiy student ean use; Design prineiples fer
snidenLaeeess. ERIC/OSEP T0pical Brief. [On-line]. Available
http://www.cec.sped.org/osep/udesign.htm, 1998.

Orth, L. C., & Martin, R. P. (1994). Interactive effects of student temperament and

317

instruction method on classroom behavior and achievement. ,loumal ef Sehool
we), 149-166.

O’Shaughnessy, T. E., & Swanson, H. L. (1998). Do immediate memory deficits in
students with learning disabilities in reading reflect a developmental lag or deficit?: A

selective meta-analysis of the literature. beaming Disability Quanterly, 21(2), 123-148.

Pajares, M. F. (1992) Teachers' beliefs and educational research: Cleaning up a
messy construct. Rew mew et Edueatienal Researeh, 62 (3,) 307- 332.

Palincsar, A. S. (1998) Social constructivist perspectives on teaching and learning.

WW1 345- 375

Poplin, M. S. (1988). The reductionistic fallacy in learning disabilities: Replicating the
past by reducing the present. leumal ef Learning Disabilities, 21(7), 389-400.

Poplin, M., & Phillips, L. (1993). Sociocultural aspects of language and literacy:
Issues facing educators of students with learning disabilities. beaming Disabilities

W1 245-255.

Putney, L, Green, 1., Dixon, 0, Duran, R., Floriani, A, & Yeager, B. (2000).
Consequential progressions: Exploring collective-individual development 1n a bilingual

classroom. In C. D. Lee & P. Smagorinsky (Eds), yygetskanpetspeenyesenjttetaey
[eseaneh New York: Cambridge University Press

Raphael, T. E., Brock, C. H., & Wallace, S. M. (1997). Encouraging quality peer
talk with diverse students 1n mainstream classrooms. Learning from and with teachers. In
J. R. Paratore& R. L. McCormack (Eds.,) ° h
tesea_eh(pp. 176-206). Newark, DE: International Reading Association.

Raphael, T. E., & Hiebert, E. H. (1996) Aperspective on language, literacy, and

learning, Cr reatin g an integr rated appr reaeb te literacy insILQQLQn (PP 1-23) Fort Worth:
Harcourt Brace College Publishers.

Raphael, T. E., &McMahon, S I. (1994) Book Club: An alternative framework for
reading instruction _he_R_ead1ng_IeaebeL_(2), 102-116.

Reid, D. K. (1998). Scaffolding: A broader view. Journal ef Learning Disabilities,
31(4), 386-396.

Rhodes, L. K., & Dudley-Marling, C. (1988). Re der n wri r ih iff r n
a. 11 ' 111 1111 '1111: '111,1:1_-11-1. 1 1r: -111l1.1-n.Portsmouth,NH:
Heinemann.

Richardson, V. & Anders, P. L. (1998). Aview from across the Grand Canyon.
MW 85- 97

Rogoff, B (1993). Children's guided participation and participatory appropriation in
sociocultural activity. In R. H. Wozniak & K. W. Fischer (Eds) Develepment 1n eentext;

Aetjng and tbinkingi 1n speeifie envirenments, Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.

Rogoff, B. (1994). Developing understanding of the idea of communities of learners.
W4“) 209-229

318

Rogoff, B. (1995). Evaluating development 1n the process of participation: Theory,
methods, and practice building on each other In E. Amsel & A Renninger (Eds), h n e

and deyel epment; Issues ef theety, appl1 1eati en, an nd method, Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.

Rojewski, J. W, & Schell, J. W. (1994). Cognitive apprenticeship for learners with
special needs: An alternate framework for teaching and learning. Remedial and Speei al

Education4i(4)1 234-243

Rowe, D. W. (1998). The literate potentials of book-related dramatic play. Reading
WU) 10-35.

Ryan, G. W. ,& Bernard, H. R. (2000). Data management and analysis methods. In

N. K. Denzin& Y S. Lincoln (Eds), HandbeekeLqualitatjmseateb®p 769- 802).
Thousand Oaks, CA. Sage.

Salomon, G. & Perkins, D. N. (1998) Individual and social aspects of learning.
W. 1 -.24

Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group (Floriani, Heras, Franquiz, Yeager,
Jennings, Green, &Dixon). (1995). Two languages one community. An examination of
educational possibilities. InR. Macias & R. Garcia (Eds), Changingseneelsfienebanging

101.11100‘40“11011°4 '21111 ' 11111(pp.63-
106): U. C. Linguistic Minority Research Institute.

Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group (Green, D., Lin, Floriani, Bradley,
Paxton, Mattern, Bergamo). (1992). Constructing literacy in classrooms: Literate action as

social accomplishment. In H. H Marshall (Ed.,) W191
edueatienalibangflpp 119- 150). Norwood, NJ: Ablex.

Schwandt, T. A. (2000). Three epistemological stances for qualitative inquiry:
Interpretivism, hermeneutics, and social constructionism. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln

(Eds), Handbeekefeuafltatiyeteseareb (2nd ed., pp. 189-213). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.

Scott, C. M. (1994). A discourse continuum for school- -age students In G. P.
Wallach & K. G. Butler (Eds) -

WOP 219- 252) New York: Merrill

Scott, B. J., Vitale, M R. & Masten, W. G. (1998) Implementing 1nstruct1onal
adaptations for students with disabilities 1n inclusive classrooms: A literature review.

 

Mime) 106-119
Scruggs, T. E., & Mastropieri, M. A. (1995). What makes special education special?
Evaluating inclusion programs with the PASS variables. um I f i l E '

22(2), 224-233.

Shinsky, E. J. (1993, May/June). Inclusive education. What does 1t really take to
make it work?§nec1aLEdueanen_Med1aandin_fdn_naue_Sem_ees p 1

Silliman, E. R., & Wilkinson, L. C. (1994). Discourse scaffolds for classroom

intervention. InG. P. Wallach& K. G. Butler (Eds), W
W®p 27- 52). New York. Merrill

319

Sindelar, P. T. (1995). Full inclusion of students with learning disabilities and its

implications for teacher education. lfbe Jeurn al et Special Edueatien, 29(2), 234-244.

Skrtic,...TM(l995) 01 1111 1111,'-1n .11i2 .1‘ 1‘1..111r
pesttnedm New York: Teachers College Press.

Slee, R. (1997, Winter). Inclusion or assimilation? Sociological explorations of the
foundations of theories of special education. Edueatienalieundatiens, 55-71.

Slosson, R. L. (1963). WWW), East Aurora, NY:

Slosson Educational Publications.

Soodak,L. C., Podell, D. M, & Lehman, L. R. (1998). Teacher, student, and
school attributes as predictors of teachers' responses to inclusion. ,leumal ef Spe eial

Ediieatien, 31(4) 480-497.

Spiro, R. J. Coulson, R. L., Feltovich, P. J, & Anderson, D. K. (1988). Cognitive
flexibility theory: Advanced knowledge acquisition in ill-structured domains, lenth_&nnua_

Mammm 375- 383) Hillsdale1 NJ: Erlbaum

Stanovich, P. J ., & Jordan, A. (1998). Canadian teachers' and principals' beliefs
about inclusive education as predictors of effective teaching in heterogeneous classrooms.

1 h 98(3), 221-238.

Stock, P. L., & Robinson, J. L. (1990). Literacy as conversation: Classroom talk as

text building. In J. L. Robinson (Ed), Literaey and learning (pp. 163-238). Portsmouth,
NJ: Boynton/Cook.

Stoler, J. D. (1992). Perceptions of regular education teachers toward inclusion of all
handicapped students in their classrooms. Cleaning Heuse, 66(1), 60-62.

Tannen, D. (1986). lbat's net yyhat I meant! Hew eenyersau'enal style makes er
1 ' n i r New York: William Morrow.

Tannen, D. (1989). flfalking veiees; Repetitien, dialegue, and 1magetyin
eenymatienaldiseeutse. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press.

Tierney, R. J ., & Rogers, T. (1989). Exploring the cognitive consequences of
variations in the social fabric of classroom literacy events. In D. Bloome (Ed), Classreems
andJiteLaey (pp. 250-263). Norwood, NJ: Ablex.

Torres-Velasquez, D. (1999). Introduction to the Special Series. Remedial annd Special
WO) 327- 328

Trent, S. C., Artiles, A. J. ,& Englert, C. S. (1998). From deficit thinking to social
constructivism: A review of theory, research, and practice in special education. Review ef

W, 277- 307

Turner, J. C. (1995) The influence of classroom contexts on young children' s

motivation for lrteracy WWO), 410-441.
Tuyay, S., Floriani, A., Yeager, B., Dixon, C., & Green, J. (1995). Constructing an

320

integrated, inquiry-oriented approach in classrooms: A cross case analysis of social, literate

and academic practices. .leucnal ef Classieeni Intetaetien, 30(2), 1-15.

Tuyay, S. Jennings L. & Dixon, C. (1995). Classroom discourse and opportunities
to learn: An ethnographic study of knowledge construction in a bilingual third-grade

classroom. W0), 75- 110.

Udvari- Solner, A., & Thousand, J. S. (1996). Creating a responsive curriculum for

inclusive schools. Eee__ed_al_a,nd_Spee1al_Edu_eatr_on,_l_(3), 182- 192.

Vaughn, S., & Schumm, J. S. (1996). Classroom ecologies: Classroom interactions
and implications for inclusion of students with learning disabilities. In D. L. Speece & B.
K. Keogh(EdS.,) ‘1- 111 111111 ‘ 1112‘ 'Im1111 11 f1_1‘1 - 1111f h'1rn
W 107-124). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.

Vaughn, S., Bos, C. S ,& Schumm, J. S. (2000) Teaching ex xeeptional, diverse,
. 1 . ‘ ‘ , _ 1 Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

 

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978) Mindin seeiety; The deve elrnep entef hgiher psyehelegieal
pteeesses, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Vygotsky, L. (1986). IheughtandJanguage (A. Kozulin, Trans). Cambridge, MA:
The MIT Press. (Original work published 1934)

Vygotslky, L. S. (191.93) lfhe eelleeted wetks ef L, S, Vygetsky; Vel, 2, The
(R W Rieber& A S. Carton, Eds.)(J E. Knox& C. B
Stevens, Trans.) New York: Plenum Press.

Wang, M. C. ,& Birch, J. W. (1984). Comparison of a full-time mainstreaming
program and a resource room approach. Exeeptien nal Children,5, 33-40

Weade, G. (1992). Locatlng leamrng 1n the times and spaces of teachrng InH. H.
Marshall(Ed.), .- f _ . . f1.1 1 (pp. 87-118).
Norwood, NJ: Ablex.

Wells, G. & Chang-Wells, G. L. (1992). Constnieting knewl edge tegethe

Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann

 

Wenger,E.(1998). nii f r i e' Leamin me 'n ndi enti
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Wertsch, J. (1989). A sociocultural approach to mind. In W. Damon (Ed), Child
deyelepmenttedayandjeinem (pp. 14-33). San Fransisco: Jossey-Bass.

Wertsch, J. V. (1991) Veiees e1 the mind; A sec ieeu lrtu al approach to medi rat ted
aetien, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Wiggins, G. P., & McTighe, J. (1998). Understanding by design. Alexandria, VA:
Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.

Willett, J. (1995). Becoming first graders in an L2: An ethnographic study of L2
socialization. W0), 473-503.

321

Winkelmann, C. L. (1991) Social acts and social systems: Community as metaphor.

WWI-29

Yackel, E., Cobb, R, Wood, T., Wheatley, G., & Merkel, G. (1990). The
importance of social interaction in children's construction of mathematical knowledge. In

T. J. Cooney & C. R. Hirsch (Eds), leaehing and learning mathematies in the 19905 (pp.
12-21). Reston, VA: The National Council of Teachers of Mathematics.

Yeager, B. ,,Floriani A, & Green, J. (1998). Learning to see learning in the
classroom. Developing an ethnographic perspective. In D. Bloome & A. Egan-Robertson,

(Eds)S_t1.1de11ts__as_1h_q1111etsdf_1ahguage_ahdl epltpre in their elassrpems (pp. 115-139).
Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

 

Zigmond, N., & Baker, J. (1990). Mainstream experiences for learning disabled
students (Project MELD): Preliminary report. Exceptienal Children, 57, 176-185.

Z1 gmond N, & Baker, J. (1994) Is the mainstream a more appropriate educational
setting for Randy? A case study of one student with learning disabilities Learning
21W 108-117

Zigmond, N., & Baker, J. M. (1995). Concluding comments: Current and future
practices in inclusive schooling. 1 he demal pf Speeial Eddcatien, 29(2), 245-250.

322

..

1.3.13. s be ,. 5.12.2... M