论文部分内容阅读
In this article， I will provide a short historical account of curriculum shifts that have been dominated by discourses of reading and writing， in a context of standardised achievement， to one of multiliteracies and participation in a global world. I will critique notions of literacy divorced from its social context， and offer ideas that help teachers understand the ways in which a focus on helping their students engage with literacies in ways that ignite their passion and creativity for using multiple forms of “text”that will better prepare them for a global world.
First of all—I would like to point out that I am from Canada. We are a country with lots of land， but not many people. The people who live in Canada， come from countries all over the world. While multiculturalism has its challenges， it is an amazing experience to live with so much diversity. We believe different things； we celebrate different holidays； we speak different languages. But we share many of the same things： to live a good life， with family and friends.
This year settlers of Canada celebrated
its 150th birthday. Canada’s first people did not recognize this birthday. To a country like China， we are in our infancy. We have a lot to learn.
Many scholars have been researching and writing about the reality that literacies—including reading and writing—have changed. Workplaces have been pointing out that the world needs new skills. New skills of course， require teachers to develop new or different teaching strategies. New teaching approaches of new and different skills， should mean that we also need new approaches to measurement. To meet these changes， teachers need to be learners and designers， and as teachers， we need to reclaim our own creativity to do this！
Part of the job of writting this article， is to offer inspiration， and to get you thinking and talking about some ideas over the few days we are spending together. I want to begin by saying I honour all of you， in your commitment to educating our children； our future. It is not an easy profession. After 35 years in this profession， I have formed a few ideas that I would like to share with you.
It starts with considering what our“mission” in education is all about. Bill Cope and Mary Kalantzis are two scholars in the New London Group who created the term multiliteracies. As part of defining the term， they thought about what the mission of education ought to be， and they came up with this definition： “to ensure that all students benefit from learning in ways that allow them to participate fully in public， community and economic life”（NLG， 1996）. This is a definition that expects much more of us， than when I started school. When I began elementary school 50 years ago， the only thing that was expected of me， was that I attended. Come every day， and everyone was happy. We had no homework. My parents trusted the teachers and the school to teach us. When I look back at photos from my early days， I see girls， all in dresses， with very neat hair sitting down. Standing over them and behind are two boys， apparently providing some sort of direction to the girls and perhaps explaining the lesson to them. Reinforcing both the lesson， and the gender stereotypes of that dominated my youth. Girls are quietly and happily taking direction from the boys.
What has changed？ Our world has changed. In many ways， there has been a shift in power， from a teacher-centred classroom to a more participatory classroom where the students share in the decisionmaking， and in the knowledge production. It is an exciting， collaborative time， and it has the potential for enormous creativity and innovation.
However， there is a cloud that threatens to dampen some of this creativity， and that cloud is the rise of the audit culture. This has occurred for a few reasons. One reason， understandably， is that educational governance must demonstrate that taxes or monies that are spent on schooling are being spent wisely. So we view this as an accountability to the public purse. Another factor that has emerged recently is the introduction of international tests， such as PISA. PISA is reportedly designed to test and compares students across countries and then ranks them on a variety of areas. It is something like the “Educational Olympics”. Countries pay close attention to where they rank on PISA， and since the introduction of international tests， Canada introduced all kinds of additional tests as a way of identifying weaknesses in advance—and presumably “fixing” them. If we think about the Olympics metaphor a little longer， we imagine a country providing the necessary resources， time， expert coaching and funding to be the best that they can be. And the country cheers them on.
This is where the metaphor falls apart for me. Teachers in Canada have not been cheered on. In fact， it has been often the opposite. About half way through my teaching career， the college of Teachers was formed. Like other professions， it was created as a professional body， with standards of practice and ethical standards we are expected to adhere to. At the same time as we were acknowledged as“professionals”， however， the commercial industry was awakening to the “knowledge economy” as a place to make money. In order to sell their products in schools， however， they had to first convince boards and parents， that there was a crisis， and that teachers could not be trusted to do their jobs—and ensure that Johnny and Suzie would be in the top category of international tests. Even the language surrounding teaching changed. We used to talk about teacher education； we saw that change to teacher training. Curriculum was to be “delivered”as thought it was coming in on a truck， and we were merely technicians， placing it on student desks. This was a very confusing time to be a teacher， and very demoralizing. Teachers doubted their own abilities. They were stressed， tired， and fearful. Is this really who we want teaching our children？ I taught in the school system for 18 years. When I became a researcher， and started doing research in Canada and around the world， I was disheartened to learn that this didn’t just happen in my country—it was happening virtually everywhere.
As I review pictures of my classroom about 20 years ago， I started to wake up to the fact that teachers were not trusted as professionals. My classroom was a place that I invested a great deal of time and energy. Research tells us that while parents are generally happy with their own child’s school and teacher， they are quick to agree with the public sentiment that schools are not doing enough. They believed that teachers have too much free time or that teachers make too much money. It was demoralizing.
Multiliteracies introduced me to a number of new concepts. The most obvious one， was that they helped people see that we make sense of our world using all kinds of texts： not only print， but visual， oral， gestural and so on. The more modes we use to take in information， the better we understand. In fact， some students can demonstrate their knowledge more powerfully in some ways than others. What multiliteracies also taught me， was about the idea of framing； this idea of understanding how power worked through texts—and to learn to see who and how that power was at work so that we could recognize how it was affecting our lives， and so that we could also use this knowledge to become powerful communicators ourselves.
To be literate then， meant that I had to learn the new languages； the language of power that operated in the dominant discourses of policy. The language of images and video that were increasingly available on the internet. The language of social media—which called into question how we were presenting ourselves to the world， and who that public self is.
Many years ago， this was evidence of literacy. Our ancestors built these stone structures called “inuksuk” to communicate safe passage， food or habitats for those who came behind them. I have admired these structures for many years， and I think in many ways， they are representative of the spirit of the teacher， a spirit that I think needs has shifted out of balance—in favour of what is assessed and evaluated. So let’s begin by thinking about how those things need to change in this new world.
Years ago， I participated in a workshop that taught me an important lesson. Two groups of teachers were divided into group a， and group b； Each was given a copy of Johnny’s recent essay， and asked to grade the work independently. After a few minutes， the groups were brought back together and were asked to share the grade that Johnny was assigned. All of the teachers in the first group， gave Johnny the lowest possible score. All of the teachers in the second group gave Johnny a very good score. How could this be？ The teachers in the first group received
a copy of Johnny’s hand-written work； complete with mistakes in grammar and spelling. The teachers in the second group were given a typed copy of Johnny’s work with all of the conventions of grammar and spelling corrected. What became very clear， is that teachers could not look past the poor spelling， handwriting and grammar to see the ideas. For this reason， rubric assessment became popular to separate out examples of what teachers were focusing on in their judgement of how a student was doing. If the process isn’t an example of the best pedagogy， the product will lack depth. What is favoured instead are the superficial tasks that satisfy performance—on tests， for “inspections” rather than the deep engagement with real problems that is needed for meaningful， lasting learning.
Teachers understand， that only very simple things can be measured precisely； complexity is harder to capture. And yet， it is possible. What if we could think about assessment as inquiry？ The way we assess learning is so closely related to the kind of learning we value and how we conceive of it that it does not seem possible that two completely different understandings could coexist without one overtaking the other.
I want to end by sharing a powerful multiliteracies example to illustrate that if we really want powerful things to happen in classrooms， we need to come together and support our teachers； we need to see them as a team of people who are working together to create rich learning environments for our children. And we need to trust them to make the right decisions， for those children who learn differently. For teachers to do this， they need to reclaim their own passion and creativity. They need to use all of their senses to engage in their profession in ways that make their heart sing. To make your heart sing， I am sharing a piece of sheet music. Those of you who are musicians will recognize this piece of music， and will understand how to read the notes， and the additional pieces that communicate tone， volume and so on.
Let’s look now at how other modes such as facial expression， gesture and body language can be used to communicate by viewing an orchestral performance conducted by Mitsuko Uchida. Let’s imagine a world where a performance like this does not need to be graded or ranked， but simply enjoyed. Technology provides the means for us to view this presentation—which clearly documents what has been learned. I imagine a day in our future where documenting our students learning in a place where parents and administrators can view progress over time， will replace artificial testing regimes that have stolen far too much time away from students and teachers. In this performance we see reading， listening， viewing， representing and multimodal communication through gesture， facial expressions and body movement. We also have to be reminded of those who learn differently. I have always been fascinated by musicians. Because my mother was a beautiful pianist. But she could not read music. She cleaned her local church. She spent a lot of time sitting with the church pianist， turning the pages when the musician nodded. To thank her， she was allowed to play on the piano when she finished cleaning. Between Sundays， she made herself a cardboard set of piano keys and practiced every day， repeating the hand movements that she had seen—despite the lack of sound， and the lack of sheet music.
Sometimes we cannot explain learning. And sometimes， we cannot capture through a simple test， the complexities of what learners are capable of. My mother would have certainly failed a music test， but I know that she made beautiful music. We need to trust in the learning potential that each child brings to school. And we need to trust and support our teachers—to free them to explore their own creativity and understanding of the world that go beyond traditional ideas. When free， they bring that curious joy into the classrooms to work with our children. And remember， those curious minds will be the creators of our future.
References
The New London Group， 1996. A pedagogy of multiliteracies： Designing social futures[J]. Harvard Educational Review， 66（1）.
First of all—I would like to point out that I am from Canada. We are a country with lots of land， but not many people. The people who live in Canada， come from countries all over the world. While multiculturalism has its challenges， it is an amazing experience to live with so much diversity. We believe different things； we celebrate different holidays； we speak different languages. But we share many of the same things： to live a good life， with family and friends.
This year settlers of Canada celebrated
its 150th birthday. Canada’s first people did not recognize this birthday. To a country like China， we are in our infancy. We have a lot to learn.
Why multiliteracies？
Many scholars have been researching and writing about the reality that literacies—including reading and writing—have changed. Workplaces have been pointing out that the world needs new skills. New skills of course， require teachers to develop new or different teaching strategies. New teaching approaches of new and different skills， should mean that we also need new approaches to measurement. To meet these changes， teachers need to be learners and designers， and as teachers， we need to reclaim our own creativity to do this！
Part of the job of writting this article， is to offer inspiration， and to get you thinking and talking about some ideas over the few days we are spending together. I want to begin by saying I honour all of you， in your commitment to educating our children； our future. It is not an easy profession. After 35 years in this profession， I have formed a few ideas that I would like to share with you.
It starts with considering what our“mission” in education is all about. Bill Cope and Mary Kalantzis are two scholars in the New London Group who created the term multiliteracies. As part of defining the term， they thought about what the mission of education ought to be， and they came up with this definition： “to ensure that all students benefit from learning in ways that allow them to participate fully in public， community and economic life”（NLG， 1996）. This is a definition that expects much more of us， than when I started school. When I began elementary school 50 years ago， the only thing that was expected of me， was that I attended. Come every day， and everyone was happy. We had no homework. My parents trusted the teachers and the school to teach us. When I look back at photos from my early days， I see girls， all in dresses， with very neat hair sitting down. Standing over them and behind are two boys， apparently providing some sort of direction to the girls and perhaps explaining the lesson to them. Reinforcing both the lesson， and the gender stereotypes of that dominated my youth. Girls are quietly and happily taking direction from the boys.
What has changed？ Our world has changed. In many ways， there has been a shift in power， from a teacher-centred classroom to a more participatory classroom where the students share in the decisionmaking， and in the knowledge production. It is an exciting， collaborative time， and it has the potential for enormous creativity and innovation.
However， there is a cloud that threatens to dampen some of this creativity， and that cloud is the rise of the audit culture. This has occurred for a few reasons. One reason， understandably， is that educational governance must demonstrate that taxes or monies that are spent on schooling are being spent wisely. So we view this as an accountability to the public purse. Another factor that has emerged recently is the introduction of international tests， such as PISA. PISA is reportedly designed to test and compares students across countries and then ranks them on a variety of areas. It is something like the “Educational Olympics”. Countries pay close attention to where they rank on PISA， and since the introduction of international tests， Canada introduced all kinds of additional tests as a way of identifying weaknesses in advance—and presumably “fixing” them. If we think about the Olympics metaphor a little longer， we imagine a country providing the necessary resources， time， expert coaching and funding to be the best that they can be. And the country cheers them on.
This is where the metaphor falls apart for me. Teachers in Canada have not been cheered on. In fact， it has been often the opposite. About half way through my teaching career， the college of Teachers was formed. Like other professions， it was created as a professional body， with standards of practice and ethical standards we are expected to adhere to. At the same time as we were acknowledged as“professionals”， however， the commercial industry was awakening to the “knowledge economy” as a place to make money. In order to sell their products in schools， however， they had to first convince boards and parents， that there was a crisis， and that teachers could not be trusted to do their jobs—and ensure that Johnny and Suzie would be in the top category of international tests. Even the language surrounding teaching changed. We used to talk about teacher education； we saw that change to teacher training. Curriculum was to be “delivered”as thought it was coming in on a truck， and we were merely technicians， placing it on student desks. This was a very confusing time to be a teacher， and very demoralizing. Teachers doubted their own abilities. They were stressed， tired， and fearful. Is this really who we want teaching our children？ I taught in the school system for 18 years. When I became a researcher， and started doing research in Canada and around the world， I was disheartened to learn that this didn’t just happen in my country—it was happening virtually everywhere.
How can multiliteracies help？
As I review pictures of my classroom about 20 years ago， I started to wake up to the fact that teachers were not trusted as professionals. My classroom was a place that I invested a great deal of time and energy. Research tells us that while parents are generally happy with their own child’s school and teacher， they are quick to agree with the public sentiment that schools are not doing enough. They believed that teachers have too much free time or that teachers make too much money. It was demoralizing.
Multiliteracies introduced me to a number of new concepts. The most obvious one， was that they helped people see that we make sense of our world using all kinds of texts： not only print， but visual， oral， gestural and so on. The more modes we use to take in information， the better we understand. In fact， some students can demonstrate their knowledge more powerfully in some ways than others. What multiliteracies also taught me， was about the idea of framing； this idea of understanding how power worked through texts—and to learn to see who and how that power was at work so that we could recognize how it was affecting our lives， and so that we could also use this knowledge to become powerful communicators ourselves.
To be literate then， meant that I had to learn the new languages； the language of power that operated in the dominant discourses of policy. The language of images and video that were increasingly available on the internet. The language of social media—which called into question how we were presenting ourselves to the world， and who that public self is.
Many years ago， this was evidence of literacy. Our ancestors built these stone structures called “inuksuk” to communicate safe passage， food or habitats for those who came behind them. I have admired these structures for many years， and I think in many ways， they are representative of the spirit of the teacher， a spirit that I think needs has shifted out of balance—in favour of what is assessed and evaluated. So let’s begin by thinking about how those things need to change in this new world.
What are we assessing for？
Years ago， I participated in a workshop that taught me an important lesson. Two groups of teachers were divided into group a， and group b； Each was given a copy of Johnny’s recent essay， and asked to grade the work independently. After a few minutes， the groups were brought back together and were asked to share the grade that Johnny was assigned. All of the teachers in the first group， gave Johnny the lowest possible score. All of the teachers in the second group gave Johnny a very good score. How could this be？ The teachers in the first group received
a copy of Johnny’s hand-written work； complete with mistakes in grammar and spelling. The teachers in the second group were given a typed copy of Johnny’s work with all of the conventions of grammar and spelling corrected. What became very clear， is that teachers could not look past the poor spelling， handwriting and grammar to see the ideas. For this reason， rubric assessment became popular to separate out examples of what teachers were focusing on in their judgement of how a student was doing. If the process isn’t an example of the best pedagogy， the product will lack depth. What is favoured instead are the superficial tasks that satisfy performance—on tests， for “inspections” rather than the deep engagement with real problems that is needed for meaningful， lasting learning.
Teachers understand， that only very simple things can be measured precisely； complexity is harder to capture. And yet， it is possible. What if we could think about assessment as inquiry？ The way we assess learning is so closely related to the kind of learning we value and how we conceive of it that it does not seem possible that two completely different understandings could coexist without one overtaking the other.
I want to end by sharing a powerful multiliteracies example to illustrate that if we really want powerful things to happen in classrooms， we need to come together and support our teachers； we need to see them as a team of people who are working together to create rich learning environments for our children. And we need to trust them to make the right decisions， for those children who learn differently. For teachers to do this， they need to reclaim their own passion and creativity. They need to use all of their senses to engage in their profession in ways that make their heart sing. To make your heart sing， I am sharing a piece of sheet music. Those of you who are musicians will recognize this piece of music， and will understand how to read the notes， and the additional pieces that communicate tone， volume and so on.
Let’s look now at how other modes such as facial expression， gesture and body language can be used to communicate by viewing an orchestral performance conducted by Mitsuko Uchida. Let’s imagine a world where a performance like this does not need to be graded or ranked， but simply enjoyed. Technology provides the means for us to view this presentation—which clearly documents what has been learned. I imagine a day in our future where documenting our students learning in a place where parents and administrators can view progress over time， will replace artificial testing regimes that have stolen far too much time away from students and teachers. In this performance we see reading， listening， viewing， representing and multimodal communication through gesture， facial expressions and body movement. We also have to be reminded of those who learn differently. I have always been fascinated by musicians. Because my mother was a beautiful pianist. But she could not read music. She cleaned her local church. She spent a lot of time sitting with the church pianist， turning the pages when the musician nodded. To thank her， she was allowed to play on the piano when she finished cleaning. Between Sundays， she made herself a cardboard set of piano keys and practiced every day， repeating the hand movements that she had seen—despite the lack of sound， and the lack of sheet music.
Sometimes we cannot explain learning. And sometimes， we cannot capture through a simple test， the complexities of what learners are capable of. My mother would have certainly failed a music test， but I know that she made beautiful music. We need to trust in the learning potential that each child brings to school. And we need to trust and support our teachers—to free them to explore their own creativity and understanding of the world that go beyond traditional ideas. When free， they bring that curious joy into the classrooms to work with our children. And remember， those curious minds will be the creators of our future.
References
The New London Group， 1996. A pedagogy of multiliteracies： Designing social futures[J]. Harvard Educational Review， 66（1）.