Digital Technologies: A Strange and Wonderful Curriculum

Passing A Strange and Wonderful Curriculum

Notes and comment on  Yi-Fu Tuan 1993, Passing Strange and Wonderful

Can one create an e-curriculum, a montage of quotes, via blogging that in turn helps us to consider Canadian curriculum theorizing as something strange and wonderful, both at the same time? How might we engage such ditigal performances? 

The penalty for poor performance is not a dock in pay or social ostracism, but rather the nagging feeling of having missed a cue—of a certain awkwardness in one’s bearing and conduct toward others that reflects adversely on one’s image of oneself. We are all on stage, for at some level of consciousness I also judge other people’s facial expressions, gestures, and behavior. (p. 6)

How might we read the gaps in Tomkins' Common Countenance when....

The gaps seem tome like missing teeth in an open mouth. (p. 6)

How might we transform this medium of virtual

... life into art. (p. 6)

 As the vignette suggests, culture has a variety of meanings. (p. 6)

I rearrange my unkempt hair into semblance of order; I break an egg to cook sunny-side up. On another scale, pioneer settlers clear forests to create farms. (pp. 6-7)

Culture is perception. I see the beauty of the dawn, savor the fragrance of morning air, and note with annoyance the ill-fitting door of the office elevator. (p. 7)

Culture is speech. Humans use language not so much to convey factual information as to construct worlds, illuminating certain facets of reality while throwing others into the shade, and calling up images that demand appraisal and sometimes action. (p. 7)

Culture is performance—facial expression, gesture, and social ballet. Image and show permeate our society as they have all others, in different ways depending on time and place. (p. 7)

And cyberculture is on the move...

The aesthetic impulse, understood as the “senses come to life,” directs attention to its roots in nature. But though rooted in nature (biology), it is directed and colored by culture. (pp. 7-8)

What direction is nature colored by digital technologies and their respective curriculum 

How do the meaning of nature, culture, and the aesthetic differ, and, in particular, what is there about the aesthetic that makes it deeply a part of nature and culture and yet also endowed with traits uniquely its own? (p. 8)

There is no scenery to be appreciated from the belly of a rowboat. (p. 10)

Only paddling through its currere....

The dreamer’s “landscape” is often a mood, induced eerily by a particular feature (house, tree stump, dead bird) rather than by a topography. Even when the dreamscape seems to have a distinctive topographic character, the dreamer lacks the ability mentally to remove the self. In short, dream is immersion: the dreamer is a captive of the milieu and time in which she finds herself. (p. 10)

Timelessness of a child and sensory delight:

I watch and listen to my eldest son seeking to understand the concept of time in relation to space and place. This time daddy, after my nap, after nighttime, this time, or next time after the sun comes, or this time, or next time. He experiences time without comprehension of how to symbolize it with numbers, or letters. Time is orally understood in relation to nature's topography between sunrise and sunset. 

At one extreme is a dreamlike immersion in sensations; at the other is the active (critical) enjoyment of scenery. Young children are particularly prone to dwell somewhere between these two. One environment that promotes this intermediate mode of being is the nook. A nook can be the tunnel behind the living room sofa, the space under the grand piano, but most satisfyingly it is an enclosure outdoors—natural cave, a hollow in the overgrown bush, a tree house. (p. 22) 

As curriculum theorists how might we lose ourselves within the nooks of what we study, within the nakedness of and desire we call experience ? 

Every theoretical motion is a dance. Unlike the mundane routine of wrote learning.

In routine factory work, what counts is the tangible end product, not the workers’ motions in its manufacture. Workers therefore tend not to see their bodies as instruments to be nurtured and trained. In sport, the goal is as precisely defined as in factory work: to reach a certain speed or height, to win against an opposing team. But unlike factory workers, athletes, to reach their goal, have to be highly conscious of the power and limits of their own bodies. The body is the athlete’s instrument of success.  (p. 38)

However, while listening to jazz, to soul....when

In dance, a particular gesture or motion is both a part of a larger composition and an end in itself; it must be artistically flawless. To keep their bodies and minds as attuned as possible to the aesthetics of stance and motion, some dancers train themselves to be continuously conscious of the poetry of movement in everything around them—a newspaper blowing down the sidewalk, a bird landing on the telephone wire—and in everything they do, like setting the table and sipping coffee. (pp. 38-39)

Dance is the most ephemeral of arts. It is inscribed on air, not on paper, canvas, or stone. Except when captured by a movie or video camera, a work lasts no longer than the performance. Like composers, choreographers cannot expect their works to attain the degree of permanence—a reality to which artist and audience alike can return again and again—that writers, sculptors, and other artists in graphic media do as a matter of course. To the dance, the end of a perfect line of movement marks the end of a beauty never to be precisely recaptured. The beauty of dance lies in part in this poignancy—an existence so fleeting that it seems, paradoxically, to transcend time. (p. 39) 

Agreeable urban sounds are unobtrusive. We seldom pause to consider their role in the daily theater of life. (p. 82)

Of experience...

Curriculum Criticism: Wiseman 1968 High School

Understanding Curriculum as a Literary Object

In this blog, I am following up on the concept put forth in an earlier post (on the following blog:http://denurturinghistoricalcontexts.blogspot.com/), namely the “reconceptualization” of curriculum as a literary object—and in turn what are the implications for understanding Wiseman’s film as such. To do so, I will make reference to John S. Mann chapter in the edited collection of Pinar’s (1975/2000) essays. Although the collection of essays was originally published in 1975, Mann published Curriculum Criticism during the winter of 1968-1969 in Curriculum Theory Network. I am not really familiar with that journal or its history. Coincidently, James T. Sears, recently made reference to this article in the Division B Curriculum Studies newsletter for AERA.

Mann (1968/2000) opens his essay by acknowledging Huebner admonition that our current curricular “discourse” within educational research is an “instrumental language structured around assumed means-ends, cause-effect relations,” and as a result, is “convenient primarily for regarding a curriculum,” reducing its text, its narratives, solely to “its technological aspects” (p. 133). Although this is an important curricular aspect, Mann continues, this technological aspect of the curriculum is not the only important aspect for us to take up as curriculum theorists. In order to challenge and critique reducing curricular discourses, their discursive coursings, to the language of technology, Mann (1968/2000) proposes to discuss curriculum as if it were a “literary object” (p. 133).

Let me stop briefly in order to offer a short soliloquy on the historical relationships between what Mann proposes on the opening page of this essay and one of the many narratives Wiseman (1968) tries to represent in High School. Barry Keith Grant (2006) writes:

The film also shows various classes, including language lessons, typing, history, home economics, physical and sex education, as well as teachers meeting with students regarding discipline and guidance counseling. Despite the school’s middle-class affluence, the film questions the nature of its approach to education. Wiseman has said that his first impression upon seeing the school was that it looked like a factory, a perceptions that informs the structure of the entire film. From the opening sequence, with the camera approaching Northeast’s fences and tall smokestack, to the ending, in which the school principal reads a letter from a former students about to be parachuted into Vietnam, the film suggests that the educational system is like an impersonal assembly line manufacturing consent, more concerned with socialization than knowledge. (p. 51)

Wiseman certainly conveys how Northeast has appropriated a technological discourse in various clips throughout the film. The space-training scene comes to mind here, as well as the objectification of the female body, in the scenes both with the gynecologist and nurse. Wiseman’s film High School asks the audience, the viewer, to reader, to consider institutional effect, and the potential sanity and madness of instituting, of disciplining such technological discourse.

Returning to Mann’s (1968/2000) essay—there he asks us to perhaps look at curriculum, its curricular language in a different way, a way that combines elements of aesthetics and science. “It is surprising only at first glance,” Mann tells us, “to find how well scientific and aesthetic talk get along together” (p. 133). In this project, are we not trying to combine aesthetics with science in the following ways?

1. Integrating digital media—such as the film High School, which has been made possible because of technological advancements in our society;
2. Critically analyzing the aesthetic production (film editing/sequencing) of High School;
3. Drawing (aesthetically/creatively) primarily (but not limited to) the collection of essays Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization as our methodological matrix for analyzing the film High School in order to offer what we might call a form of cultural criticism;
4. Utilizing web-based technologies such a “creative blog writing” to help with the aesthetic production of this paper (Google Blogger, and DreamWeaver); and
5. Engaging a curriculum theory project, which in turn attempts to answer Pinar’s call for studying the verticality and horizontality of curricular concepts and their respective historically situated contexts.

Please critique the aforementioned postulations and/or add to them. Mann (1968/2000) then draws our attention to the potential relationships between curriculum and fiction. It is here where we might further understand the possibilities and limitations of “curriculum” as a “literary object”. In order to do so, Mann draws on Mark Schorer’s (1950) treatment of the story. “And the first point to note,” Mann (1968/2000) suggests, “is that in his criticism Schorer focuses neither on the biography of the author nor on the effect of the work on the reader, but firmly on the literary object itself” (p. 134). Just wondering if there are similar approached in film studies Kate. Within this context, the function of the critique is then to disclose meanings in the object.

Wiseman (1968) presents the audience with a story, its explicit, implicit, and hidden curricula in High School—indeed the story of North East High. Could we then consider these stories, their respective curricular affiliations, as literary objects? Could we also consider Wiseman’s documentary film High School to also be a literary object in itself? In out attempts to answer such questions, “we might come close to,” as Mann (1968/2000) suggests, “or even touch or enter into, the object, to know its meanings well" (p. 134). And yet I ask myself to what ends? Or better yet, why I am so intellectually invested at this point in time, in my studies, my career, with both of these literary objects—Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization and High School. Autobiographically speaking (is this not always the case), is it my intellectual engagement with the aesthetic process of studying this film alongside/with/against this specific collection of essays, that is fulfilling my current epistemic desire, or is it something represented, or shared within each literary object that speaks to me, attaches itself, to my self-interests? Indeed why am I invested in subjecting myself to reading such fictions? “I would like to propose,” Mann (1968/2000) writes, “that a curriculum can be regarded in the same manner. Like fictions, a curriculum can have a story, a set of facts which on the surface purport to represent life” (p. 134). What then is the curriculum—explicit, implicit, hidden—represented/narrated in High School? Mann turns to the field of science in order to further offer us an explication of the relationship between fiction and curriculum. “In a curriculum,” Mann tells us,

a scientist precipitates a salt, or notes the effect of X rays on a photographic plate. It matters here, more than in fiction, whether there “really” was such a scientist. But by putting this fact aside for a while, it matters very much in a curriculum as well as in a story that this scientist was selected for representation from a universe of possibilities. And note that the scientist is not presented but represented. It is not a chunk of raw life a curriculum contains, but a film maker’s or text writer’s representation of life or selections from life. (p. 134)

The above passage addresses some of the concerns you have Kate with how Wiseman’s film has been constructed even though it “presents” itself under the guise of a “documentary—non fiction—film.” Can we argue to some extent that the scenes chosen and represented in the film work to subject us to a “dominant fiction” of schooling within that time period. Certainly, Pinar’s (1975/2000) collection of essays would help us to support the (de/re)construction of this historically situated “dominant fiction.” I do not have the book with me here at home, but perhaps Kaja Silverman’s (1992) book Male Subjectivity at the Margins might be of some help here with our analysis. “In both cases,” Mann makes clear, “the curriculum no less than the story, the network of selections constitutes an assertion of meaning—a symbolic commentary upon life” (p. 134). Wiseman’s film High School is a symbolic commentary upon life at schools, a school situated in the United States during the Vietnam War.

What is my Coursing?--An Intellectual Diary

Dear Tim and Awad,

Sure. I am up for that. I thought more about our conversations this morning on bus 24. Each morning, during this commute into work, I have a good 30 minutes to self-indulge myself in “personal/autobiographical” reflection. Today it was while reading John S. Mann’s “Curriculum Criticism” in Pinar’s (1975/2000) edited collection of essays entitled Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization. Coincidently, Jim Sears made reference to it in his essay that just came out in the Division B, Curriculum Studies newsletter, of which was sent out today. A graduate student and myself having been working for some time with this collection of essays in order to analyze Frederick Wiseman’s 1968 documentary film High School for both the American Association for the Advancement of Curriculum Studies conference and its journal. We are trying to integrate clips from the film into our online article for the journal. We will utilize the aforementioned collection of essays among other works as a methodological filter for (re)reading the historical narratives on American education represented/absent within the film.

While reading Mann’s essay, I also thought about Awad’s question: “What is my course—my coursing, my currere,” here within the Faculty of Education at the university of Ottawa? What is it within the concentration of Organizational Studies in Education? I too, have asked that question Awad. As curriculum theorists with similar and different intellectual interests, I often wonder how to situate/find a place/space for myself within this concentration. Yesterday, Tim was able to help teach us about the historical context of how this concentration came to be. I am curious Tim how “curriculum theory” itself, its discourse, its historical narrative(s), evolved in order to lead us to where we are now at. What was the intent of partnering up curriculum theory with(in) organizational studies? I have to say that I am extremely happy that we do have “curriculum theory,” within organization studies because you would be hard pressed to find it within any other institution—York University excluded. Sorry Awad, not sure if OISE hires curriculum theorists per say, as their stated concentration of research—curriculum studies yes. As far as I am aware Awad, there is just you, Chloë Brushwood Rose at York, and myself who are currently hired to “do/take a course, coursing” in/toward/through curriculum theory. That is not to say others are not engaged nor self-identify themselves as curriculum theorists—yet, theses scholars’ research programs toward tenure is not institutionally en-titled as such.

So I wondered some more today, engaged in the activity of wonderment, on the bus (20 minutes into the ride)—about founding (foundational) projects that might bring us closer together as a community. Then I thought of Derrida’s push to establish an International College of Philosophy—at the time (in response to) when the minister of education in France was attempting to reduce/eliminate the teaching of philosophy from the elementary school system (see his interview on the matter in Points—interviews 1974-1994). Could we not create a similar institutional space, a virtual community, a virtual space, to respond to your question yesterday—what is my course, coursing, currere? We already have the platform with the A Canadian Curriculum Theory Project website.

What is needed, in order for this to be a collaborative effort is a painting/addition/integration of your vision(s) (mission statement) for the platform—of which is welcomed. What would a curriculum theory project at our university entail? How might it compare to ongoing curriculum theory project at Louisiana State University for example. Perhaps we could take that up in our intellectual discussions/diaries/blogs over the next few weeks. And perhaps our project on Empire—could be listed as one of the current projects undertaken by those involved with the development of this website’s content. We also spoke about having a place to work on media literacy projects with students in PED 3102, to research it, and this certainly could be the place. For an example, see the Radio Show link. I have its first podcast up there—a recorded lecture of Bill Pinar and Madeleine Grumet at Bergamo’s 25th anniversary in its chapel. But we could also have a space/link for students’ work. The site needs a lot of work in terms of adding to its content. The site is also providing a place for graduate students (only mine at the moment) to work on their writing projects—blogs. This can also be a place for us to work on them. The Canadian Curriculum History link needs a lot of work. My vision for that, was that students could conduct historical reviews of various curriculum scholars in Canada as part of their course work either in the Curriculum Theory course of Historical Narratives course—their selective works could then be posted up there. Future professors and graduate students could then use this site as a starting point to study such works.

Having said all of this—I can see through our discussions a potential paper emerging perhaps for the Journal of Higher Education and the Internet— entitled—What is my Course? Or, is the a more relevant journal that you can suggest. Where we create a blog to discuss it—and discuss the implication of trying to create such space to explore our coursing—currere.

Until, Nicholas

Understanding Topographies of A Canadian Curriculum Theorist

Just in the midst of reviewing Cynthia Chambers' 1999 article again: A Topography for Canadian Curriculum Theory. I am really enjoying how this specific piece of her work is helping me to conceptualize an understanding of my educational experiences up in Kapuskasing from 1975 until 1992. "The school curriculum was," in many ways as she reminds me, " a colonial curriculum in that home was either somewhere else or not worth consideration," in terms of what we were asked to learn at school (p. 137). In 1978, My parents enrolled me into the French Catholic schooling system in Kapuskasing. They thought it was important to learn the language of the other, in order to truly be considered Canadian--even though we only spoke English at home. Many of our textbooks were written by Quebec authors, and as a result, we read very little into the daily habits of Franco-Ontarian culture. Our curriculum indeed was always about somewhere else. In a sense we were always alienated outsiders within this rural logging town's school curriculum. Outside of the administrated urban curriculum implemented within our school-- one colonial Empire against an(other).

I wonder how I might, as Chambers suggests,

"cultivate a new kind of curricular imagination that not only honours the multitude of ways the Canadian landscape shapes how Canadians “see” things, but, more importantly, that explores how such shaping itself is an active process that cannot be simply described through the Eurocentric instrumentalities of previous generations. (pp. 142-143) ...in terms of re-membering such rural curricular experiences.

I wonder....

POSTED BY NICHOLAS NG-A-FOOK AT 12:56 PM

Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization

In preparation for the upcoming AAACS conference in New York (March 21-24, 2008), on a daily basis I will read and respond to excerpts from Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization as a meditative practice of currere.

"Curriculum theory and theorizing," Macdonald (1971/2000) tells us, "may be characterized as being in a rather formative condition, for essentially there are no generally accepted clear-cut criteria to distinguish curriculum theory and theorizing from other forms of writing in education" (p.5). Last year I was hired as a tenure track Curriculum Theory professor at the University of Ottawa. Over the course of this past year, and perhaps even longer, if we date a coursing of my studies back to the Curriculum Theory Project at Louisiana State University with Bill Pinar, Petra Munro Hendry, Claudia Eppert, Bill Doll, and Denise Egéa-Kuehne, I have been trying to situate my thinking, educational experiences, in relation to the following question (among many others): What is Curriculum Theory (for me)? Perhaps, we can push this question a little further and ask What is Curriculum Theory in Canada? What/where/who is part of the field that might help one answer this particular situated question. During the 1970s in the United States, Macdonald (1971/2000) explains, that there were three major camps of theorizers:

1. One group (by far the largest) sees the theory as a guiding framework for applied curriculum development and research and as a tool for evaluation of curriculum development.

2. A second "camp" of ofttime younger (and far fewer) theorizers is committed to a more conventional concept of scientific theory. This groups has attempted to identify and describe the variables and their relationship in curriculum.

3. A third group of individuals look upon the task of theorizing as a creative intellectual task which they maintain should be neither used as a basis for prescription or as an empirically testable set of principles and relationships. The purpose of these persons is to develop and criticize conceptual schema in the hope that new ways of talking about curriculum, which may in the future be far more fruitful than present orientations, will be forthcoming. (pp. 5-6)

Can we trace former graduates students (now professors), their intellectual genealogies, back to these groups? Can I?

until tomorrow.....

Continuing from yesterday.

Returning to his essay entitled Curriculum Theory:

“A further interesting and sometimes complicating factor,” Macdonald (1971/2000) tells us, “is that individuals who theorize [such as myself, as well as others] may well operate in all three realms upon different occasions as specific professional pressures and tasks appear” (p. 6). Furthermore, Macdonald asks us to carefully consider scholars intents, when assessing the works of those who have gone before us. Yet how does the next generation of curriculum theorizers, such as myself, read and study their theoretical works in order to complicate our understandings of their respective intents? Before responding to this specific question, Macdonald first turns our attention to the historical work of Huebner. “Curriculum theory,” Macdonald suggests [now drawing on the writings of Huebner, specifically his essay entitled The Task of the Curriculum Theorist], “can be categorized in terms of the various uses of language by theorists” (p. 6). Huebner calls our attention to six possible kinds of language used (at least at that moment in time):

1. Descriptive
2. Explanatory
3. Controlling
4. Legitimizing
5. Prescriptive
6. Affiliative

An important part of reading and studying such curricular theorizing, Macdonald warns us, is to situate these six kinds of curricular language in relation to the sociopolitical and historical contexts from which they emerged. Since the 1970s have curriculum theorists gone beyond these six linguistic curricular categories? Is curriculum theory, its field, still a discursive field? How might such language help us to understand the intents of the authors included within Curriculum Studies: The Reconceptualization?