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The Social Studies
Curriculum
Purposes, Problems, and Possibilities
THIRD EDITION
Edited by
E. Wayne Ross
Thanks to each of the scholars who wrote chapters for this as well as previous
editions of The Social Studies Curriculum: Purposes, Problems, and Possibilities.
Each contribution reflects cutting-edge thinking about the challenging is-
sues of curriculum work in social studies education. In working on the third
edition of this book, again I found that I have much more to learn from my
colleagues about social studies, curriculum, and pedagogy.
Perry M. Marker, Stephen C. Fleury, David Hursh, and Jeffrey W. Cor-
nett are longtime comrades and social studies colleagues whose work re-
mains vital and whose friendship I continue to cherish. In recent years,
fellow workers Kevin D. Vinson, Rich Gibson, and I have collaborated on a
variety of projects, including the Rouge Forum (www.rougeforum.org) and
several books. Their knowledge of ideas postmodern and Marxian are leg-
endary and I have learned much from both (but, they are not responsible for
my shortcomings as their student). Valerie Ooka Pang, Ceola Ross Baber,
David Gabbard, Kathleen Kesson, and Michael Peterson are exemplar
scholar-teacher-activists who inspire me by all they accomplish.
I have had some truly wonderful workmates from New York to British
Columbia. Larry Stedman, Ken Teitelbaum, and Michael Whelan are long-
time commiserative colleagues on issues of higher education, politics, and,
perhaps most importantly, baseball.
My time in Kentucky brought me a number of friends and allies, most es-
pecially John Welsh, Marc Bousquet, Heather Julien, Daya Singh Sandhu,
Randy Wells, and Kathy Woods.
My new colleagues at the University of British Columbia are fabulous,
particularly the social studies education crew of Peter Seixas, Walt Werner,
Linda Farr Darling, Lisa Loutzenheiser, and Penney Clark. All of these folks
understand the connections between educational theory and practice and
work to make a difference in the lives of others.
I also would like to thank Diane Ganeles at SUNY Press for her invalu-
able support and patience throughout the production process, once again.
I have learned lots about life, love, and schools from John Colin Mathi-
son Ross and Rachel Layne Ross. I love them dearly and they both make me
a proud dad.
Sandra Mathison is the love of my life. She gives me everything I need,
and much, much more.
E. Wayne Ross
ix
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction 1
Social Studies Teachers and Curriculum
E. Wayne Ross
PART I
PURPOSES OF THE SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM
1. The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 17
E. Wayne Ross
2. Teaching History: A Constructivist Approach 37
Michael Whelan
3. Oppression, Anti-Oppression, and Citizenship Education 51
Kevin D. Vinson
4. The Future is Now: Social Studies in the World of 2056 77
Perry M. Marker
PART II
SOCIAL ISSUES AND THE SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM
5. Defining the Social Studies Curriculum: Influence of
and Resistance to Curriculum Standards and Testing in
Social Studies 99
Sandra Mathison
E. Wayne Ross
Kevin D. Vinson
6. Racism, Prejudice, and the Social Studies Curriculum 115
Jack L. Nelson
Valerie Ooka Pang
7. The Color of Social Studies: A Post-Social
Studies Reality Check 137
Frances V. Rains
vii
viii Contents
PART III
THE SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM IN PRACTICE
10. Struggling for Good Assessment in Social Studies Education 197
Sandra Mathison
Kristi Fragnoli
11. Reading Pictures of People 217
Walter Werner
12. “A World of Knowledge”: Social Education and Digital
Technology 241
Brenda Trofanenko
13. “Out” in the Classroom: Addressing Lesbian, Gay,
Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) Issues in Social
Studies Curriculum 255
Kevin Jennings
14. Teaching Social Studies as if it Mattered: Young Children 265
and Moral Deliberation
Linda Farr Darling
15. Decolonizing the Mind for World-Centered Global Education 283
Merry M. Merryfield
Binaya Subedi
16. Teaching Democracy: What Schools Need to Do 297
Joseph Kahne
Joel Westheimer
PART IV
CONCLUSION
17. Remaking the Social Studies Curriculum 319
E. Wayne Ross
List of Contributors 333
Name Index 341
Subject Index 353
INTRODUCTION
SOCIAL STUDIES TEACHERS AND CURRICULUM
E. Wayne Ross
Any effort to understand the nature of the social studies curriculum pre-
sents us with at least two fundamental problems from the outset. First,
what exactly is “curriculum”? And secondly, what is “social studies”? The
answers are not as straightforward as you might expect.
The past eighty years have produced a huge literature about school
curriculum, but no definitive definition of what counts as curriculum. Is
curriculum a formal document or plan? Or is it what is assessed? Perhaps
it is what students have the opportunity to learn, or the totality of stu-
dents’ experiences of school. Curriculum scholars and practitioners have
advanced all these positions, and more.
Euclid may have been among the first to note that “the whole is the sum of
its parts.” But surely he was not describing “the curriculum.” . . . [J]udg-
ing by what has been written by others attempting to explain the “curricu-
lum field,” we are reminded again why the field is at once so fascinating
and frustrating: One seems to get a general sense of what “the curriculum”
is without knowing quite how to define it in all its detailed parts; yet, once
having made inferences at this level of generality, there remain nagging
concerns that much remains to be discovered. (Gehrke, Knapp, & Sirot-
nik, 1992, p. 51)
1
2 E. Wayne Ross
are certain assumptions about means and ends (e.g., how children learn,
appropriate teacher-student relations, what knowledge is of most worth,
the purposes of schools). For example, some common metaphors used
to describe the work of teachers include gardener, facilitator, guide,
pilot, navigator, mapmaker, gatekeeper, change agent, and activist. Each
of these metaphors communicates certain assumptions about the teach-
ing-learning process and the interaction between teachers and curricu-
lum. What are our images of teachers in relation to curriculum? How do
these images shape the work of curriculum development and teaching?
In the Handbook of Research on Curriculum, Clandinin and Connelly
(1992) describe how educational research, from its genesis as a formal field,
has segregated inquiry into issues of “curriculum” and “teaching.” The dis-
tinction between curriculum and teaching has become commonplace and
the effect of its institutionalization is rarely a matter of consideration. For
example, “in the United States the land grant colleges institutionalized a
distinction between curriculum and instruction (C & I), either by creating
‘C & I’ departments or separating the two by establishing instructional de-
partments alongside . . . elementary and secondary education departments”
(Clandinin & Connelly, p. 364). This organizational distinction at the uni-
versity level spawned degree programs, which produced specialists to work
in schools, further entrenching the separation of curriculum and teaching.
The logic of the distinction between curriculum and instruction is
founded on the belief that decisions about aims or objectives of teaching
must be undertaken prior to decisions about the how to teach (see
Popham & Baker, 1970; Tyler, 1949). The distinction between curriculum
and instruction then is fundamentally a distinction between ends and
means. For researchers, this distinction provides a way to place boundaries
on their inquiry into the complex worlds of teaching and schooling. In
schools, this distinction fits into a bureaucratic structure that seeks to cate-
gorize areas of concern with an emphasis on efficiency in decision making.
This distinction has produced abstract categories of research and dis-
course that bear little resemblance to the lived experience of teachers in
the classroom, where ends and means are so thoroughly intertwined. This
does not mean, however, that the language and categories of research are
irrelevant to teachers.
Language use, educational practices, and social relationships contend
with each other in the formation of teachers’ professional identities and
the institutional culture of schools (Kemmis & McTaggart, 1998). For ex-
ample, when curriculum and instruction (ends and means) are conceived
as independent entities, curriculum development activities become the
work of one group and curriculum implementation becomes the work of
another. This division of labor, in turn, affects the social relations between
these groups as one group defines the goals or conceptualizes the work
4 E. Wayne Ross
and the other is responsible for accomplishment of the goals (see Ross,
1992). The apparent “indifference” of educational research and bureau-
cratic decision making to the reality of classroom teaching creates unequal
participation and power relations.
The implication is that we must closely examine the language of ed-
ucational practice because it influences our activities and social relations
within education. The strict distinction between ends and means in cur-
riculum work is problematic in a number of ways. First, the ends-means
distinction does not accurately reflect how the enacted curriculum is cre-
ated. Second, it justifies the separation of conception and execution in
teachers’ work, which reduces teachers’ control over their work. Third, it
marginalizes teachers in formal curriculum decision making.
The ends-means split between curriculum and teaching narrows the
professional role of teachers to the point where they have little or no
function in formal curriculum development—this has never been more
true than in the current era of standards-based curriculum and high-
stake tests. Many teachers have internalized the ends-means distinction
between curriculum and their work; as a result, they view their profes-
sional role as instructional decision makers, not curriculum developers
(Thornton, 1991, 2004). What is clear from studies of teacher decision
making, however, is that teachers do much more than select teaching
methods to implement formally adopted curricular goals (see Ross, Cor-
nett, & McCutcheon, 1992a). Teacher beliefs about social studies subject
matter and student thinking in social studies as well as planning and in-
structional strategies, together create the enacted curriculum of a class-
room—the day-to-day interactions among students, teachers, and subject
matter. The difference between the publicly declared formal curriculum
(as presented by curriculum standards documents) and the actual cur-
riculum experienced by students in social studies classrooms is signifi-
cant. The enacted curriculum is “the way the teacher confirms or creates
doubt about assertions of knowledge, whether some opinions are treated
as facts while other opinions are discounted as unworthy of considera-
tion” (Marker & Mehlinger, 1992, pp. 834–835). For example,
Note
1. This and the following section draws on Ross (1994) and Ross, Cornett,
and McCutcheon (1992b).
References
Carr, W., & Kernmis, S. (1986). Becoming critical. Education, knowledge, and action
research. London: Falmer.
Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (1992). Teacher as curriculum maker. In
P. Jackson (Ed.), Handbook of research on curriculum (pp. 363–401). New York:
Macmillan.
Connelly, F. M., & Clandinin, D. J. (1998). Teachers as curriculum planners: Narra-
tives of experience. New York: Teachers College Press.
Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and education. New York: Free Press.
Dewey, J. (1933). How we think. Lexington, MA: Heath.
Dewey, J. (1964). The relation of theory to practice in education. In R. D. Archam-
bault (Ed.), John Dewey on education: Selected writings. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press. (Original work published 1904).
Evans, R. W. (2004). The social studies wars: What should we teach the children? New
York: Teachers College Press.
Gehrke, N. J., Knapp, M. S., & Sirotnik, K. A. (1992). In search of the school cur-
riculum. Review of Research in Educaton, 18, 51–110.
Hursh, D., & Ross, E. W. (2000). Democratic social education: Social studies for social
change. New York: RoutledgeFalmer.
Kemmis, S., & McTaggart, R. (1988). The action research planner (3rd ed.). Gee-
long,Victoria: Deakin University Press.
Marker, G., & Mehlinger, H. (1992). Social studies. In P. Jackson (Ed.), Handbook
of research on curriculum (pp. 830–851). New York: Macmillan.
14 E. Wayne Ross
E. Wayne Ross
The content of the social studies curriculum is the most inclusive of all
school subjects. Stanley and Nelson define social education as “the study
of all human enterprise over time and space” (1994, p. 266). Determin-
ing the boundaries of the social education taught in schools, what most
people know as the social studies, requires decisions about what social
knowledge is most important, which skills and behaviors are most valu-
able, what values are most significant, and what sequence of content and
skills best fits the subject matter and the students (Stanley & Nelson,
1994). Given this, it is not surprising that social studies has been racked
by intellectual battles over its purpose, content, and pedagogy since its
inception as a school subject in the early part of the twentieth century:
To top it off, even the historical accounts of the origins of the social stud-
ies as a school subject are in dispute.
Three questions form the framework for this chapter: (1) What is the
social studies curriculum? (2) Who controls the social studies curriculum?
and (3) What is the social studies teacher’s role in relation to the curricu-
lum? These may seem to be simple and straightforward questions, but as
we shall see there is debate and controversy surrounding each. Even the
most basic aspects of the social studies, such as its purpose in the school
curriculum, have been contested since its inception and the field contin-
ues to be a hotspot in the “culture wars” (Evans, 2004; Ross, 2000b, 2004).
As each of the above questions is addressed, fundamental tensions and
contradictions that underlie the social studies curriculum will be identi-
fied. My intention is to present this series of tensions and contradictions
as a heuristic for understanding the dynamic nature of the social studies.
It would be a mistake to treat them as definitive oppositions; however, it is
17
18 E. Wayne Ross
the struggle over these contradictions that have shaped the nature of the
social studies curriculum in the past and continue to fashion it today.
The first section of this chapter examines the origins and purposes of
the social studies curriculum. The historical analysis presented in this sec-
tion does not attempt to be exhaustive, but rather is intended as a context
for understanding the contemporary social studies curriculum and cur-
rent efforts to reform it. Both the contradictory origins of social studies in
schools and the long-standing dispute over the relative emphasis of cul-
tural transmission and critical thinking will be examined. The following
section examines the question of curricular control with particular em-
phasis on the historical tensions between curriculum centralization and
grassroots curriculum development in the social studies. The impact of
standards-based, test-driven education reform on social studies curricu-
lum is addressed in the next section. Social studies curriculum and in-
struction cannot be considered in isolation. The teacher is the most
critical element in the improvement and transformation of the social
studies curriculum. In the final section of this chapter, the role of the so-
cial studies teacher in relation to the curriculum is examined. In this sec-
tion, the role of teachers as curriculum conduits is contrasted with a more
professional activist view of teachers as curriculum theorizers.
Noffke argues that debates over social studies have failed to acknowledge
the widening gap between haves and have-nots and the racialized and
gendered patterns of privilege and oppression, which to a large degree
form the basis of U.S. economic and cultural life, are also not addressed
in contemporary proposals for curriculum reform. Rather than accept the
current configuration of meanings of social studies, which are “grounded
in particular unequal and unjust cultural and economic system and de-
signed to ensure its persistence,” Noffke, harkening back to the challenge
of George S. Counts (1932), sets out the social studies project as creating
a new social order, one based on democracy and economic justice.
Noffke argues for a conception of social education in which cultural
identity and social context play a more valued role than a curriculum
built for a “universal” child. The construction of social studies curricu-
lum cannot be accomplished by a focusing on a universal, individual
child. Rather the social studies curriculum must be seen “as a living part
of communities and social movements” (p. 78). She locates the roots of
this vision of social studies education in the work of African-American ed-
ucators, such as Jessie Fauset, Helen Whiting, Septima Clark, Carter G.
Woodson, and W. E. B. DuBois, and in communities engaged in struggle
for democracy and economic justice (e.g., Myles Horton and the High-
lander Center). Drawing on these sources, Noffke contends that tradi-
tional goal of social studies—enhancing democratic citizenship must be
bound to issues of racial and economic justice and seen not as a “fixed
end” but as a concept that must be continually constructed as it is lived.
ies should examine “closed areas,” topics that are more or less taboo in
polite society (Hunt & Metcalf, 1955), decision making (Engle, 1963),
public policy (Oliver & Shaver, 1966), environmental competence
(Newmann,1977), moral development (Kohlberg, 1973, 1975), and
adult social roles (Superka & Hawke,1982). While a few think that the
purpose of social studies is to make students astute critics of American
society (Engle & Ochoa, 1988), others believe . . . that the purpose of
social studies is mainly socialization into the values, habits and beliefs
that permit youth to find a niche in adult society. (1992, p. 832)
action to lead to the reconstruction of society (e.g., Hursh & Ross, 2000;
Ross in the chapter 17 of this volume).
It is within the context of the tensions between the relative emphasis
on transmission of the cultural heritage of the dominant society or the
development of critical thought that the social studies curriculum has
had a mixed history—predominately conservative in its purposes, but
also at times incorporating progressive and even radical purposes. Stan-
ley and Nelson organize the variations in social studies curriculum and
instruction into three broad and not necessarily opposing categories:
subject-centered social studies, civics-centered social studies, and issues-
centered social studies.
Subject-centered approaches argue that the social studies curriculum
derives its content and purposes from disciplines taught in higher educa-
tion. Some advocates would limit social studies curriculum to the study of
traditional history and geography while others would also include the tra-
ditional social sciences (e.g., anthropology, economics, political science,
sociology, psychology). Still others would include inter- and multidiscipli-
nary areas such as ethnic studies, law, women’s studies, cultural studies,
and gay/lesbian studies. The glue holding these various curricular views
together is that each seeks to derive an organizing framework for the so-
cial studies curriculum based upon disciplinary knowledge from higher
education. Some subject-centered advocates argue for cultural transmis-
sion, without multiculturalism (e.g., Leming, Ellington, & Porter-Magee,
2003; Ravitch, 1990; Schlesinger, 1991), while others suggest using the dis-
ciplines as a means for stimulating critical thinking and diversity (e.g.,
Whelan, chapter 2 in this volume). For both groups subject matter knowl-
edge is paramount.
Civics-centered social studies is concerned with individual and social
attitudes and behaviors more than with subject matter knowledge. Civic
competence or the ability and responsibility to interpret, understand,
and act effectively as a member of one’s society is the unifying theme in
this approach (see chapter 3, by Vinson, in this volume). As within the
subject-centered approach, there are a wide spectrum of views from in-
culcating cultural traditions to promoting social action. Views differ on
the relative emphasis that should be given to uncritical loyalty, socially
approved behaviors, and to social criticism and improvement, but they
share the view that social studies is more than subject matter study and
must be tied to civic competence (e.g., Engle & Ochoa, 1988).
Issues-centered approaches propose that social studies is the exami-
nation of specific issues. Social as well as personal problems and contro-
versies are the primary content of the curriculum. The views in this
category range from personal development to social problems as the pur-
pose of the social studies curriculum. Some would advocate the study of
only perennial issues while other emphasize current or personal issues,
The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 23
Published Materials
Textbooks have also been a major force in standardizing the curriculum.
For more than seventy years teachers have relied on textbooks as a pri-
mary instructional tool. In 1931, Bagley found that American students
spent a significant portion of their school day in formal mastery of text
materials (Bagley, 1931 cited in McCutcheon, 1995). A 1978 study of fifth-
grade curricula found 78% of what students studied came from textbooks
and a 1979 study found textbooks and related materials were the basis for
90% of instructional time in schools. In their review of research on the so-
cial studies curriculum, Marker and Mehlinger (1992) found about half
of all social studies teachers depend upon a single textbook and about
90% use no more than three.
Many states adopt textbooks on a statewide basis (Marker & Mehlinger,
1992), and three large “adoption states” (California, Florida, and Texas)
The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 27
It is clear that in the past thirty years support for educational reform from
industry, private foundations, as well as the federal government has pro-
duced a more capitalistic, less educator-oriented and ultimately less demo-
cratic network of curriculum policy makers (Gabbard & Ross, 2004; Kesson
& Ross, 2004; Mathison & Ross, 2004; Vinson & Ross, 2004).
Curriculum Standards
It is clear that government-driven curriculum centralization efforts (i.e.,
the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 and its ramifications) have success-
fully transformed the formal curriculum in all areas and particularly in so-
cial studies (Gabbard & Ross, 2004; Kesson & Ross, 2004; Mathison & Ross,
2004; Ross, 2000a; Vinson & Ross, 2003, 2004). The standards movement
is a massive effort at curriculum centralization. Virtually all of the subject-
matter-based professional education groups have undertaken the creation
of curriculum standards. Encouraged by the positive response to the de-
velopment of standards for the mathematics curriculum and the availabil-
ity of federal funding for such projects, social studies educators have taken
up the development of curriculum standards with unparalleled zeal. There
are now separate and competing curriculum standards for United States
and global history, geography, economics, civics, psychology, and social
studies (see chapter 5, by Mathison, Ross, & Vinson, in this volume, for a
more complete analysis of standards-based educational reforms).
The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 29
American historian in the early part of this century, put it this way:
“whether we like it or not, the textbook not the teacher teaches the
course” (Saxe, 1991, p. 29). Schlesinger’s thinking was adopted by many
subsequent curriculum reformers as described above. This is clearly not
a desirable role for professional teachers.
A second possible role for teachers in relation to the curriculum is as
“active implementers.” In this role teachers are assumed to have impact
on the implementation of curricular ideas, and curriculum developers
create implementation strategies aimed at helping teachers understand
the curricular innovation. The New Social Studies is an exemplar of this
role for the teacher. Teachers were viewed as active implementers but
not as full partners in the creation of the curriculum. Strategies for pro-
moting the use of the New Social Studies materials focused on preparing
teachers to faithfully implement the developers’ curricular ideas.
A third and most desirable role for teachers is as curriculum user-
developers. From this perspective teachers are assumed to be full part-
ners in development of the enacted curriculum. Teacher inquiry is a key
element in the success of the curriculum because it is inquiry directed at
discovering curriculum potential that leads to the change and transfor-
mation of formal curriculum materials, and most importantly the devel-
opment of new alternatives that are best suited for circumstances the
teacher is working within.
The current standards-based curriculum movement highlights the
contradiction between the views of teachers as active implementers or as
user-developers. Ultimately, however, curriculum improvement depends
on teachers being more thoughtful about their work (see Cornett et al.,
1992; Kesson & Ross, 2004; Parker & McDaniel, 1992; Thornton, 2004).
The most effective means of improving the curriculum is to improve the
education and professional development afforded teachers. Teachers
need to be better prepared to exercise the curricular decision-making re-
sponsibilities that are an inherent part of instructional practice. Early in
this century John Dewey identified the intellectual subservience of teach-
ers as a central problem facing progressive educators in their efforts to im-
prove the curriculum. Dewey saw the solution to the problem as the
development of teaching as professional work. Prospective teachers,
Dewey argued:
should be given to understand that they not only are permitted to act
on their own initiative, but that they are expected to do so and that
their ability to take hold of a situation for themselves would be a more
important factor in judging them than their following any particular set
methods or scheme. (Dewey, 1904, pp. 27–28)
32 E. Wayne Ross
Conclusion
In this chapter I have posed three fundamental questions about the social
studies curriculum: (1) What is the social studies curriculum? (2) Who
controls the social studies curriculum? and (3) What is the social studies
teacher’s role in relation to the curriculum? In responding to these ques-
tions I identified a series of tensions and contradiction that have shaped
the field of social studies historically and that still affect it today.
In response to the first question I identified the tension between the
study of academic history and efforts of social meliorists as setting the
stage for a long-standing conflict between advocates of subject-centered
and civics- or issue-centered social studies. In addition, it was argued that
the purposes of the social studies curriculum have essentially been de-
fined by the relative emphasis given to cultural transmission or critical
thinking in the curriculum.
The second question led to an examination of the long-standing ten-
sions between curriculum centralization and grassroots curriculum de-
velopment. The recent standards-based curriculum movement was
discussed in this section and used as a bridge to the consideration of the
final question regarding the role of the social studies teacher in relation
to the curriculum. In the closing section I argued that teachers are the
key element in curriculum improvement and that curriculum change in
the social studies will only be achieved through the improved education
and professional development opportunities for teachers.
My intention has been to present this series of tensions and contra-
dictions as a heuristic for understanding the dynamic nature of the social
studies. It would be a mistake to treat them as definitive oppositionals,
however; it is the struggles over these contradictions that have shaped
the nature of the social studies curriculum in the past and continues to
define it today.
Notes
1. The balance of this section draws directly upon Ross, E. W. (2000a). I am
indebted to the work of William H. Schubert for the historical analysis in this sec-
tion. See Schubert, W. H. (1991). Historical perspective on centralizing the cur-
riculum. In M. F. Klein (Ed.), The politics of curriculum decision-making (pp.
98–118). Albany: State University of New York Press.
2. This section draws upon Ross, E. W. (1990). “Teachers as curriculum the-
orizers.” In E. W. Ross (Ed.), Reflective practice in social studies (pp. 35–41).
Washington, DC: National Council for the Social Studies.
The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 33
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The Struggle for the Social Studies Curriculum 35
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PART I
PURPOSES OF THE
SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM
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CHAPTER 2
TEACHING HISTORY
A CONSTRUCTIVIST APPROACH
Michael Whelan
Introduction
Disagreement about curriculum issues in social studies education is not
new or reason for undue concern. On the contrary, since social studies
emerged as a school subject early in the twentieth century, its develop-
ment has been characterized, and indeed often energized, by a diversity
of opinion regarding its nature, its purposes, and, as a result, its most ap-
propriate curriculum organization. Fundamental questions—whether
social studies is a unified field of study or a cluster of separate disciplines,
for example—have been considered and contested for decades.
In recent years, however, an ongoing debate between advocates of a
history-centered approach to social studies education and those calling for
curriculum based on the interdisciplinary study of current social issues has
become so adversarial as to threaten the field with factionalism, thereby
undermining the pluralism from which social studies has frequently bene-
fited. Rather than engaging in a critical yet constructive discussion about
their respective curriculum positions, prominent spokespersons on both
sides of this debate have taken rigid, uncompromising stands; devised his-
torical interpretations to bolster their competing claims of legitimacy; and
assailed each other’s proposals as anti-intellectual, anti-egalitarian, and a
threat to the nation’s basic institutions (e.g., Evans, 2004; Nash, et al.,
1997; Whelan, et al., 1992).
Furthermore, like many educational policy disputes, this debate has in-
creasingly become an end in itself, and as such, of little practical conse-
quence for social studies teachers. It is not that the issues involved are
37
38 Michael Whelan
inconsequential, far from it, but rather that their significance has been con-
fused and obscured as people on both sides of the question have pressed
ever more ideologically arcane arguments in an effort to gain some dubious
debating advantage. Such stridency has done little but lend credence to
James Lemming’s (1989) troubling contention of a broad, dysfunctional
gulf between social studies theorists and classroom practitioners.
The central issue of this curriculum debate is addressed directly in
this chapter, but hopefully, in a less contentious, more judicious manner.
The principal argument advanced is that social studies education should
be history-centered, but that historical study should be organized in ways
that seek to further social studies’ traditional educational goals, includ-
ing, above all, its special responsibility for citizenship education. Thus,
the chapter is divided into two related parts: the first offering a series of
observations about the essential constuctivist nature of historical knowl-
edge and the implications that derive therefrom for purposes of effective
instruction; and the second suggesting a series of guidelines for teachers
to use in implementing a history-centered curriculum true to social stud-
ies’ longstanding citizenship goals.
Still, it was not until the last 30 years or so that historians have begun to
generate the type of scholarship needed to make a more inclusive history
curriculum a real possibility (Foner 1990, 1997; Kammen 1980). Now,
however, new scholarship in many areas of study previously ignored or
poorly apprehended—issues about women and various ethnic groups;
cultural and intellectual developments; rural, urban and suburban life;
familial and informal community relations; and many other topics often
categorized under the broad general heading of “social history”—hold
the potential to transform significantly the traditional history curricu-
lum. No longer must students focus so exclusively on questions about
military and political matters, but may now consider a much wider spec-
trum of social and cultural issues, many of much greater import to their
present lives.
Furthermore, this new historical scholarship often involves innova-
tive interdisciplinary methods of inquiry and analysis. In many cases, it
also entails or encourages the consideration of historical phenomena
from more than one point of view. Thus, the infusion of the curriculum
with topics arising from this scholarship may enhance history’s educative
potential in a number of significant ways. In addition to helping students
better understand a wider and more relevant range of historical issues, it
may also help them grasp more fully the central role of interpretation in
historical study, and, perhaps more important still, to appreciate the es-
sential role that empathy and tolerance play in maintaining democratic
institutions. Provision should be made therefore for students to become
familiar with the content and methods of inquiry of this new historical
scholarship. To do so, a history-centered curriculum should include
numerous opportunities for students to study nontraditional topics
(e.g., crime, leisure time, sports, popular culture, health care, formal ed-
ucation, and patterns of familial organization) and also to study more
traditional topics from less traditional points of view (i.e., from the “bot-
tom-up” as well as the “top-down”).
Provision should be made as well for students to study things that never
happened. This may sound odd in a history-centered curriculum, but it is
nevertheless important. If the study of history is to contribute to the goal of
active, enlightened citizenship, students should regularly consider, as
Shirley Engle (1990) suggested some time ago now, history in the “hypo-
thetical” mood. That is, they should consider how things might have been,
and not simply how they actually were. Such counter-factual reflection is
particularly valuable in analyzing political and public policy matters, which,
despite the new potential for more inclusive study, are likely to continue to
hold a central place in any school-level history curriculum, and rightfully so
considering history’s citizenship purposes. In many cases, however, political
decisions and policy matters cannot be understood fully or evaluated fairly
without considering the likely consequences of possible alternatives.
46 Michael Whelan
Some may argue that this sort of inquiry is mere speculation and in-
appropriate therefore in historical study. But in fact counter-factual
analysis can be very instructive. How, for example, is one to evaluate the
policy decisions of Lincoln or Franklin Roosevelt without considering
the range of possible options open to them at the time? Or how is one to
understand historical decisions about transportation, immigration, and
weapons production, to cite but a few other examples, without asking
questions about how these matters might have been decided differently?
Choosing among alternatives on the basis of rational inquiry is the
essence of democratic citizenship at its most basic level. The systematic
study of such alternatives should therefore be an essential part of a his-
tory-centered social studies curriculum.
There is a still more fundamental understanding about the nature of
human existence that the study of historical alternatives can illuminate,
however, one that is often lost in the course of conventional history in-
struction. The past, students need to understand, was not preordained
and could have unfolded very differently. It was determined to a great ex-
tent, much the way the future will be determined, by decisions that peo-
ple made or failed to make. Studying history without considering its
possible alternatives can obscure this fundamental point, leaving stu-
dents with the profoundly mistaken impression that the past was deter-
mined apart from human volition and agency. Such an impression can
contribute to feelings of alienation, powerlessness, and dissatisfaction,
feelings clearly antithetical to the citizenship goals that social studies
seeks to promote.
Finally, a history-centered curriculum should be organized around
the study of historical conditions, and not simply historical events. Dis-
proportionate attention to the latter can quickly degenerate into a dry,
dreary regimen of superficial chronicling having little educative value or
meaning. The interpretive analysis of the conditions underlying histori-
cal events can lead quite naturally, however, to enlightening comparative
studies of similar or analogous conditions in the present. Questions
about gender and familial relations that developed in rural/frontier en-
vironments in the United States during the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, for example, will likely raise many questions among students
about how theses same relations have developed in urban/suburban en-
vironments during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.
The educational values involved in such comparative studies are sim-
ilar in many ways to those involved in analyzing historical alternatives.
Such comparisons, however, also help resolve a more practical curricu-
lum problem in history education. Too often the study of current or re-
cent social issues is confined to the final two weeks of a history course
based on strict adherence to chronology or restricted to a weekly “cur-
rent events day” in which issues are considered in an ad hoc, decontex-
Teaching History 47
Conclusion
Social studies education will never be problem-free, of course, no matter
how its curriculum is constituted. Certain dilemmas—such as breadth
versus depth, chronology versus themes, dominant culture versus partic-
ular culture, teacher as advocate versus teacher as neutral—are either
unique to or particularly acute in social studies education. They will
never be fully or finally resolved. The point, therefore, to paraphrase
Winston Churchill, is that a history-centered curriculum, while not per-
fect, is nevertheless better than anything else.
History’s claim to a central, unifying place in social studies education
is based on more than relative expediency, however. In fact, its most com-
pelling claim to such a place arises from the profound understanding that
the nature of human existence is essentially historical. Some may quickly
counter that human existence is nothing if not multifaceted, with social,
cultural, political and economic dimensions, to name just a few. But these
aspects of human existence are but abstractions if considered apart from
the course of human history. The complex relationships within and
among individuals and groups, which is a large part of the subject matter
of sociology, for example, are in fact historical phenomena. The same is
true of the subject matter of anthropology, cultural geography, econom-
ics, and political science. All analyze historical phenomena that are best
understood as they actually happened; that is, within an historical con-
text. Indeed, whatever meaning life may hold is largely derived from re-
flecting on experience, and human experience, in all its variability and
developmental complexity, is the subject matter of historical study. Per-
haps, that is why all peoples have always studied history. In one way or an-
other, it explains who they are.
History, in other words, is the only social studies subject open to the
whole range of human experience and its development through time. It is
distinctively disposed, therefore, to draw upon and synthesize knowledge,
values and methodologies from all other fields of study. For this reason, it
is also the most natural and best suited discipline around which to orga-
nize the social studies curriculum. If historical study is based on a few fun-
damental principles—specifically, that students consider the relationship
between the past and the present, and not simply the past; that they inter-
pret rather than simply memorize historical information, thereby con-
structing their own understanding of its meaning; that they investigate a
wider range of social and cultural issues, including the conditioning fac-
tors that underlie them; and that they reflect on the likely consequences of
alternatives to historical decisions, especially with respect to political and
public policy matters—then a history-centered curriculum can provide stu-
dents with a truly engaging, authentic, and enlightening course of study.
Teaching History 49
References
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CHAPTER 3
OPPRESSION, ANTI-OPPRESSION, AND
CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION
Kevin D. Vinson
51
52 Kevin D. Vinson
• lingering income and wealth gaps between the haves and the
have-nots;
• the continuing commercialization of children and schools (e.g.,
via corporate advertising [e.g., Giroux, 1998]);
• the legislating of anti-immigration and anti-affirmative action sen-
timents as formal government policy;
• the criminalization of African-American male and other “minor-
ity” youth;
• the exploitation of school violence (e.g., the power of the gun
lobby and the proliferation of media coverage—all directed
toward increased profits, power, and the creation of markets);
• the privatization/marketization of public schooling (e.g., vouch-
ers, choice);
• the abandonment of inner cities;
• the move toward standardization;
• the disparity in achievement between wealthy and less wealthy
schools and school districts;
• the elimination of long-term, high-paying jobs, and the assault on
organized labor;
Oppression, Anti-Oppression, and Citizenship Education 53
Now for Young (1992) these faces denote singular and precise types
or kinds of oppression. In other words, exploitation, marginalization,
powerlessness, cultural imperialism, and violence each depicts its own
unique mode or class of oppression whether in the presence or absence
of the others. For as Young notes, oppressed “groups are not [all] op-
pressed to the same degree or in the same ways” (p. 175). Instead, op-
pression “refers to several distinct structures or situations” (p. 175). My
arguments are grounded in the assumptions that (1) each face exists
today in classrooms, schools, and society at large; (2) taken together, the
five faces approximate the oppressive conditions facing many individuals
and groups living in the U.S.; and (3) contemporary programs of citi-
zenship education present both oppressive and anti-oppressive possibili-
ties; that is the potential to challenge and disrupt as well as the potential
to maintain and strengthen.
But, one might ask, are classrooms and schools in fact oppressive?
Is society more broadly oppressive? In order to demonstrate oppression
from within the contexts of Young’s framework one must determine
56 Kevin D. Vinson
that (1) social groups exist; (2) “everyday” conditions work to privilege
some groups over others; and (3) at least one of the five faces charac-
terizes social life. For classrooms, schools, and society, these conditions
indeed apply.
In each case multiple social groups exist. At the societal level, as an
example, one need only consider the cultural politics of identity sur-
rounding such critical markers as race, gender, ethnicity, class, sexuality,
age, interest, ideology, religion, and language. Moreover, to the extent
that these vary and overlap, the number of groups actually multiplies.
What is important here is the degree to which each group contributes to
and affects myriad relations of power situated according to dynamic and
subjective constructions of “Otherness”; that is within complex discursive
communities bounded by statements such as “I am but you are not”
and/or “I belong and you do not.” Such positive and negative, inclusive
and exclusive communities enable a series of oppressive relationships in
which some relatively small yet powerful minority (or, at times, some
hegemonic majority) defines the terms of group membership and the
rules of engagement for (and between) both itself and those it subju-
gates. These conditions appear in the contemporary struggles over issues
such as immigration, welfare reform, labor relations, family values, affir-
mative action, school finance, and (even) citizenship education. Further,
these conditions represent actualizations of Young’s (1992) five face of
oppression in everyday experience.
That is, the quotidian circumstances of contemporary life (e.g., mov-
ing within the economic and political systems), positioned as they are
within relationships of power, contribute to, maintain, strengthen, and
are characterized by exploitation (e.g., the disparity between the wages
of employees and the salaries of upper management), marginalization
(e.g., the overrepresentation of African-American men in prisons versus
their underrepresentation in colleges and universities), powerlessness
(e.g., federal legislation imposed and enforced by a Congress and an ad-
ministration that are almost exclusively male, wealthy, Christian, straight,
and white), cultural imperialism (e.g., the conforming influences of
Christian holidays, the norming/creating of middle-class desires), and vi-
olence (e.g., hate crimes and sexual harassment).
That classrooms and schools mirror the oppressive contingencies of
society should, on one level, be unsurprising since schools (and class-
rooms) are fundamentally social institutions, institutions that have been
explored previously as reproductive of social injustices and inequalities
(e.g., Anyon, 1980; Bowles & Gintis, 1976; Hursh & Ross, 2000). On an-
other level, however, one might expect that given the youthful vulnera-
bility of their charges, schools and policy elites would make some formal
effort to reduce or eliminate the effects and conditions of oppression. As
Oppression, Anti-Oppression, and Citizenship Education 57
I perceive things, though, the jury is still out. Either way oppression per-
sists. The social groups that help characterize U.S. society at large also
help characterize classrooms and schools; similar relations exist. Class-
room and school identities are created, in part, according to divisions of
race, gender, class, ethnicity, sexuality, language, and so on. But further-
more, innumerable unique characteristic attributes particular to the com-
plex settings of twenty-first century U.S. schooling, those grounded in, for
example, interests (e.g., computers, chess, culture), service activities (e.g.,
environmental clubs, student government), talents (e.g., sports, music,
drama), and stereotypes (including cliques; e.g., jock, nerd, druggie,
gang-banger, slut), also have at least some bearing. The five faces come
into play vis-à-vis the everyday structural contexts and contingencies of
schooling and classroom life, those affecting students as well as teachers
and permeating the very conditions within which both construct their
subjective identities as educator and educated, included and excluded,
and similar and other.
Exploitation exists, for example, within countless accountability
schemes in which the efforts of teachers and students work to sustain
the dominant positions of external administrators and policy makers.
Test scores provide one relevant illustration. When test scores improve,
educational managers (e.g., district and state administrators, elected
legislators and executives) extol the virtues of their latest reform agen-
das or programs (i.e., “Clearly, our new policies are working.”). When
they decline it is because teachers are “not accountable enough” or be-
cause they are “poorly trained” or because they are not implementing
“best practice.” Either way, such arrangements work to solidify the posi-
tion of administrators and other governmental bureaucrats as experts
and/or educational leaders and teachers and students as clerks, techni-
cians, and/or trainees (if not worse). The recent growth in corporate in-
fluence and the extent to which consumership has replaced citizenship
as a foundation of schooling only exacerbates this oppressive situation
(e.g., Giroux, 1998).
One example of marginalization occurs as states and districts continue
their broad trend toward standardization; that is, toward a mechanism of
curriculum, instruction, and assessment that refuses to take seriously the
notion and conditions of difference. Here, state departments of education
demand conformity to a mandated and singular set of curriculum, in-
struction, and assessment standards imposed on schools that diverge in
terms of economics, cultures, and environments (e.g., Mathison & Ross,
2004; Ross, 1996; Vinson & Ross, 2001, 2003, 2004; see also chapter 5 in
this volume by Mathison, Ross, & Vinson). Schools, teachers, and students
who either do not, cannot, or refuse to conform are rebuked, often puni-
tively in terms of financial arrangements and/or state takeover. In other
58 Kevin D. Vinson
words, those in power pretend that differences among and within schools
and districts do not exist, and then punish schools and districts when dif-
ferences surface. Perhaps a more serious example of marginalization takes
place as schools claim to prepare students for nonexistent jobs; economic
opportunities exit inner cities only to be replaced by prisons and inade-
quate housing. When high school graduates don’t find jobs, it is because
they “didn’t work hard enough” or because “standards were not high
enough,” not because corporations abandoned cities for the suburbs, tak-
ing with them their tax dollars (if they pay at all) and the hope and op-
portunity they could choose to stay and provide (see, e.g., Apple, 1996;
Hursh & Ross, 2000; Vinson & Ross, 2003).
Although powerlessness in schools and classrooms assumes many
forms, two stand out as obvious and historical examples, one mainly per-
taining to students and one to teachers. Traditionally, students have held
little influence over their own learning in terms of curriculum, instruc-
tion, and assessment, and they have carried little weight in terms of ped-
agogical decision making (although some educators have made some
headway here; see, e.g., Angell, 1998; Hursh & Seneway, 1998). Teachers,
whom one might expect to fare better than their students, in reality exist
within a number of similar and powerless circumstances. Educators have
labeled this condition “deprofessionalization” and have used it to de-
scribe (and to criticize) such systemic inclinations as “teacher proofing”
and the contemporary overemphasis on the engineering aspects of
schooling (over, say, the metaphysical; Postman, 1995, p. 3). Although
certainly problematic, such circumstances appear even more dangerous
to the extent that they represent a covert or hidden normalization, a
state of affairs in which teachers are led into a false consciousness de-
fined according to the belief systems of their oppressors. Just listen as
today’s educators unreflexively espouse the “party line” when questioned
about curriculum, instruction, and/or assessment.
Cultural imperialism again refers to those circumstances in which one
group’s perspective becomes dominant or the norm. It makes invisible the
viewpoints and/or situations of “other” groups while simultaneously dis-
tinguishing their members as visibly different and marking them as neces-
sarily inferior. The point is that one culture is privileged so that others
disappear yet stand out. It involves a homogenizing erasure, a denial of dif-
ference, an ironic separateness. In classrooms and schools, this occurs in,
for example, the inclusion of high culture (e.g., classical music) at the ex-
pense of youth or popular culture (e.g., alternative rock and rap music),
and in the exclusion of meaningful debates about history and historical nar-
rative (represented in, for instance, the traditional and heroic story of U.S.
history and the Eurocentrism of world history). In many locations, these
conditions represent the everyday realities of public schooling.
Oppression, Anti-Oppression, and Citizenship Education 59
Expectations of Excellence
Expectations of Excellence (NCSS Task Force, 1994) maintains the NCSS’s
traditional view of citizenship as the primary and defining purpose of so-
cial studies education. Moreover, it promotes a conception of citizenship
as “civic competence—which is the knowledge, skills, and attitudes re-
quired of students to be able to assume ‘the office of citizen’ . . .” (p. 3).
Oppression, Anti-Oppression, and Citizenship Education 61
CIVITAS
The primary goal of CIVITAS: A Framework for Civic Education [bold in
the original] is to suggest guidelines for the development or enhance-
ment of civic education instructional programs in public and private
elementary and secondary schools in order to promote civic compe-
tence, civic responsibility, and the widespread participation of youth in
the social and political life of their communities and the nation. (CCE,
1991, p. 1)
not? In the United States, are citizens “equal under the law,” or are they
not? Is the United States a “democracy,” or is it not? What do these ques-
tions mean? What are their answers? What are the ideals, and what are the
realities? For whom? Following the three case studies, it is not unreasonable
to question the degree to which students would or would not be confused.
Second, by not directly and actively challenging the circumstances
and elements of oppression and Young’s (1992) five faces, the three ap-
proaches risk a certain complicity, an unintentional working toward the
preservation and maintenance of various oppressive conditions—in both
schools and society. Whether and to what extent these risks exist in prac-
tice, of course, can be determined only by way of a rigorous empirical
and theoretical research agenda, one noticeably absent within the con-
temporary social studies.
Given these factors and the necessity of taking Young’s (1992) five
faces seriously, I believe that the roots of a potentially anti-oppressive set
of alternatives exist in the contemporary work of Freirean and neo-
Freirean (e.g., Greene and hooks) pedagogy, “democratic education”
(e.g., Apple and his colleagues), and cultural studies (e.g., Giroux).
These diverse programs provide for the indicated conditions as well as
for the circumstances manifested by Young.
Freire’s (1970) Pedagogy of the Oppressed posits a revolutionary alterna-
tive to the “pedagogy of domination” inherent within the disconnecting
characteristics of traditional formal schooling (what Freire famously
called “banking education”). His approach builds on what he termed a
“problem-posing” education, a view that for teachers and students strives
toward a critical consciousness grounded in a humane and liberating dia-
logue. Its goal is a pedagogy of freedom, one through which various op-
pressive conditions can be understood and overthrown via the intellectual
and practical aspects of the praxis. For Freire, problem-posing education
works to “create . . . the conditions under which knowledge at the level of
the doxa is superseded by true knowledge, at the level of the logos” (p. 62).
It “involves a constant unveiling of reality . . . [and] strives for the emergence
of consciousness and critical intervention in reality” (p. 62). Freirean peda-
gogy “has two distinct stages” (p. 36).
In the first, the oppressed unveil the world of oppression and through
the praxis commit themselves to its transformation. In the second stage,
in which the reality of oppression has already been transformed, this
pedagogy ceases to belong to the oppressed and becomes a pedagogy of
all people in the process of permanent liberation. In both stages, it is al-
ways through action in depth that the culture of domination is cultur-
ally confronted. (Freire, 1970, p. 36)
given to them as inexorable” (p. 109). This is similar to what bell hooks
(1994; see also Florence, 1998) has called “engaged pedagogy,” a situa-
tion in which teachers’ “work is not merely to share information but to
share in the intellectual and spiritual growth of [their] students” (p. 13).
It opposes an “assembly-line approach to learning” (p. 13) and instead
seeks an “education [where] . . . everyone [italics added] claims knowl-
edge as a field in which we all labor” (p. 14). It includes “action and re-
flection upon the world in order to change it” (p. 14).
As a second possibility, the recently revived notion of “democratic
schools” provides further insight into the creation of an anti-oppressive
alternative. According to Beane and Apple (1995; see also Carlson &
Apple, 1998), democratic schools are those intentionally structured ac-
cording to the principles of democratic life. These include:
of power, the heart of each of the faces. Taken together they seek to
eliminate the acceptability of exploitation, marginalization, powerless-
ness, cultural imperialism, and violence as they presently exist even
within a system ostensibly dedicated to justice and equality. They seek to
expand the spheres of engagement, and to decenter the geographies of
economics, power, identity, culture, and behavior such that no group is
inherently or contextually dominant and able to use its status to manip-
ulate others for its own benefits. Fundamentally democratic in orienta-
tion, these viewpoints privilege not asymmetrical social relationships, but
radically widespread practices of meaningful and just democracy—not
conformity, but freedom, liberation, individuality, and justice—and the
creation of an antihegemonic social existence.
Notes
1. Readers are left here to ponder the potential absurdity—the oxymoron—
of diversity standards or standardized diversity.
2. I wish to thank E. Wayne Ross, Perry Marker, Paula M. Vinson, and Jill
Cohen for their kind and supportive critiques.
References
Angell, A. V. (1998). Practicing democracy at school: A qualitative analysis of an
elementary class council. Theory and Research in Social Education, 26, 149–172.
Anyon, J. (1980). Social class and the hidden curriculum of work. Journal of Edu-
cation, 162, 67–92.
Apple, M. W. (1996). Cultural politics and education. New York: Teachers College
Press.
Barr, R. D., Barth, J. L., & Shermis, S. S. (1977). Defining the social studies. Arling-
ton, VA: National Council for the Social Studies.
Beane, J. A., & Apple, M. W. (1995). The case for democratic schools. In
J. A. Beane & M. W. Apple (Eds.), Democratic schools (pp. 1–25). Alexan-
dria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.
Block, A. A. (1997). I’m only bleeding: Education as the practice of social violence against
children. New York: Peter Lang.
Bowles, S., & Gintis, H. (1976). Schooling in capitalist America. New York: Basic
Books.
Carlson, D., & Apple, M. W. (Eds.). (1998). Power/knowledge/pedagogy. Boulder,
CO: Westview Press.
Center for Civic Education. (1991). CIVITAS: A framework for civic education. Cal-
abasas, CA: Author and National Council for the Social Studies.
Center for Civic Education. (1994). National standards for civics and government.
Calabasas, CA: Author.
Engle, S. H., & Ochoa, A. S. (1988). Education for democratic citizenship: Decision
making in the social studies. New York: Teachers College Press.
Epp, J. R., & Watkinson, A. M. (Eds.). (1997). Systemic violence in education: Promise
broken. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Florence, N. (1998). bell hooks’ engaged pedagogy: A transgressive education for critical
consciousness. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey.
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum.
74 Kevin D. Vinson
Freire, P. (1998). Teachers as cultural workers: Letters to those who dare teach
(D. Macedo, D. Koike, & A. Oliveira, Trans.). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Giroux, H. A. (1998). Education incorporated? Educational Leadership, 56(2),
12–17.
Giroux, H. A. (1997). Is there a place for cultural studies in colleges of educa-
tion? In H. A. Giroux [with] P. Shannon (Eds.), Education and cultural stud-
ies: Toward a performative practice (pp. 231–247). New York: Routledge.
Greene, M. (1978). Landscapes of learning. New York: Teachers College Press.
Hoffman, A. M. (Ed.). (1996). Schools, violence, and society. Westport, CT: Praeger.
hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: Education as the practice of freedom. New
York: Routledge.
Hursh, D. W., & Ross, E. W. (Eds.). (2000). Democratic social education: Social stud-
ies for social change. New York: Falmer.
Hursh, D. W., & Seneway, A. (1998). Living, not practicing, democracy at school.
Theory and Research in Social Education, 26, 258–262.
Martorella, P. H. (1996). Teaching social studies in middle and secondary schools (2nd
ed.). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Merrill/Prentice Hall.
Mathison, S., & Ross, E. W. (Eds.). (2004). Defending public schools: The nature and
limits of standards-based reform and assessment. Westport, CT: Praeger.
McLaren, P. (1995a). Critical pedagogy and the pragmatics of justice. In M. Pe-
ters (Ed.), Education and the postmodern condition (pp. 87–120). Westport, CT:
Bergin & Garvey.
McLaren, P. (1995b). Critical pedagogy and predatory culture: Oppositional politics in
a postmodern era. London and New York: Routledge.
National Council for the Social Studies Curriculum Standards Task Force.
(1994). Expectations of excellence: Curriculum standards for social studies. Wash-
ington, DC: National Council for the Social Studies.
Newmann, F. M. (1977). Building a rationale for civic education. In J. P. Shaver
(Ed.), Building rationales for citizenship education (pp. 1–33). Arlington, VA:
National Council for the Social Studies.
Parker, W., & Jarolimek, J. (1984). Citizenship and the critical role of the social stud-
ies. Washington, DC: National Council for the Social Studies.
Postman, N. (1995). The end of education: Redefining the value of school. New York:
Vintage/Random House.
Remy, R. C. (1979). Handbook of basic citizenship competencies. Alexandria, VA:
Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.
Ross, E. W. (1996). Diverting democracy: The curriculum standards movement
and social studies education. The International Journal of Social Education, 11,
18–39.
Ross, E. W. (2000). Social studies education. In D. A. Gabbard (Ed.), Education in
the global economy: The politics and rhetoric of school reform (pp. 235–244). Mah-
wah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Ross, E. W. (2004). Negotiating the politics of citizenship education. PS: Political
Science and Politics, 37(2), 249–251.
Saxe, D. W. (1997). The unique mission of social studies. In E. W. Ross (Ed.), The
social studies curriculum: Purposes, problems, and possibilities (pp. 39–55). Albany:
State University of New York Press.
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Schiraldi, V. (1998, August 25). Hyping school violence. The Washington Post,
p. A15.
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and standards in the United States: An encyclopedia (pp. 909–927). New York:
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new disciplinarity. New York: Peter Lang.
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ing power (pp. 174–195). Albany: State University of New York Press.
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CHAPTER 4
THE FUTURE IS NOW
SOCIAL STUDIES IN THE WORLD OF 2056
Perry M. Marker
In the brief span of fifteen years, the Internet, instant messaging, iPods,
Web sites, and e-mail, have dramatically changed the way we, and espe-
cially our children, communicate. Music and movie downloading, chat
rooms, video games, and cell phones have become a part of everyday life.
In 2004, Merriam–Webster, the dictionary, designated “blog” (a shared
online journal where people can post diary entries about their personal
experiences, political ideas, and hobbies) as its word of the year, based
on the number of people who looked up a definition online.
Yet amid this blizzard of change, the contemporary social studies cur-
riculum is mired in early-twentieth-century history-centered thinking, and
out of touch with the needs and interests of the current generation of stu-
dents who will be the leaders of tomorrow. As we begin the new millen-
nium, it seems as though we are proceeding rather haphazardly, without
a great deal of thought and discussion, toward an uncertain, uninspired,
and unimaginative future for the social studies curriculum.
Currently, there is intense pressure to reform social studies education
to address the changing social, political, economic, and technological de-
mands of contemporary society. However, social studies educators are in
danger of reproducing the curriculum of a hundred years ago; adopting
and accepting an unyielding history-based and corporate-influenced cur-
riculum that renders us resistant to change in an information age. Two of
the more visible efforts at reform, sponsored by the Thomas B. Fordham
Foundation, are Where Did Social Studies Go Wrong? (Leming, Ellington, &
Porter, 2003) and Terrorists, Despots, and Democracy: What Our Children Need
to Know (Fordham Foundation, 2003). These publications have sparked
77
78 Perry M. Marker
The Millennials
I’ve got my phone in my left pocket, my palm pilot in my right pocket, and my
iPod on my belt everywhere I go . . . My mom has one, my girlfriend has one
and my brother has one.
—20-year-old aerospace engineering student
(Evangelista, 2004)
Born between 1979 and 1995, the millennials2—also known as the echo
boom, generation Y, Generation XX, Generation 2K—are more than
60 million strong in America. These sons and daughters (and in some
cases grandchildren) of the “baby boomer generation,” are as young as
5 and as old as 20, with the largest portion still a decade away from ado-
lescence. They were born during the presidencies of Ronald Reagan,
George H. W. Bush, and Bill Clinton, and they are the biggest thing to
hit the American scene since the post-World War II arrival of the 72 mil-
The Future is Now 81
lion baby boomers. Rivaling their parents’ generation in size, they are
more racially diverse, with one in three nonwhite. One in four lives in a
single-parent household, and three in four have working mothers. And,
while boomers are still learning to program their VCRs, their children
are tapping away at computers in nursery school.
The millennials are impacted by media and the Internet the way the
baby boomers were affected by television. But unlike television, which is
a passive, homogeneous medium, the Internet is driven by the millions
of people who, in an instant, can have their thoughts, interests, hopes,
and fears broadcast worldwide. For the millennials, information is im-
mediate. The most obscure fashion and music trends are available at the
click of a button. The smallest groups can meet one another, exchange
information, and even begin social movements. MoveOn.Org is effective,
in part, because of the instantaneous connection and feedback provided
by the Internet. Howard Dean owed his ability to raise the enormous
funds needed to run for the presidency in 2004 mainly to the Internet.
His pioneering work in using the Internet to mobilize thousands of peo-
ple in a short period of time has forever changed the way political cam-
paigns are organized and run.
This torrent of high-speed information has made the millennials’ in-
terests, personal viewpoints, and tastes more varied and faster changing
than their parents’, and grandparents’ ever were. Diversity is the embodi-
ment of the millennials. They encounter messages on a daily basis that re-
flect a stunning array of political viewpoints, consumer choices, and
cultural perspectives. The global reach of the Internet has made it possible
for persons who have similar interests to talk with one another, provide im-
mediate assistance and aid, and share divergent points of view irrespective
of their national boundaries, ethnic differences, or cultural chasms.
But even more significantly, rather than go to a library, purchase a
newspaper, or even turn on a television, millennials receive information
in the places where they congregate. Technological developments such
as Apple Computer Company’s iPod are causing shifts in our culture
away from large communal areas such as a cathedral—a space we all can
inhabit—to a world of the iPod and Internet, which exists in our heads
and cyberspace (Evangelista, 2004).
Whether it is the Internet, a skateboarding tournament, video games,
or a rock concert, the millennials are plugged into the latest trends. A
music promoter for the rock band “No Doubt” booked them into a small
Manhattan club. On opening night, the crowd was packed with young
women who were dressed just like the lead singer. “How do they know
this? How do they keep up with what she’s wearing? It’s not from network
television,” said the promoter. “It’s online” (Neuborne, 1999).
82 Perry M. Marker
• air-conditioning
• color photography
• 150 mph trains
• disappearance of certain species of animals
• universal free education
• fast food
• aircraft
• radio
• global television
• free food and clothing for the underprivileged
Science
• Biotechnology, nanotechnology (molecular manufacturing)
and closed-environment agriculture efficiently feeds the world’s
population;
• Thousands of people work in space communities in orbit, on the
moon, and on Mars;
• Intelligent life forms has been discovered and contacted;
• Hydrogen, fusion, third-generation fission plants, solar-powered
satellites, and renewable energy sources provide a safe and abun-
dant mix of energy;
• After a series of megahurricanes and floods in 2031–2032, the cli-
mate has begun to stabilize—the use of fossil fuels for power and
transportation have been all but eliminated;
• Virtually every body part and organ of the human body can be
replaced and/or regenerated.
Technology
• A person’s body serves as “password” eliminating the need for toll
booths, credit cards, passports, etc.;
• The internal combustion engine was eliminated in 2025 with
hydrogen-powered fuel cells powering cars and mass transit;
• After the crash of 2020, the Internet was disbanded in 2025,
being replaced by a wireless cybercommunity that is available
worldwide, resulting in global mobilization of political, social,
business initiatives.
Lifestyle
• Shopping is augmented by personal databases that help persons
determine and design personal wardrobes (e.g., as you browse
your shopping database, you get a message that announces “that
jacket won’t match the slacks you bought last month”);
• Electronic sensors in clothing can transmit mood, smell, taste,
anxiety via cyberspace;
• Artificial intelligence (AI) systems using neural networks augment
human intelligence and improve human decision making;
• The computer keyboard is a relic in the Smithsonian Museum.
The Future is Now 85
Economics
• The Shanghai Stock Exchange in China is now the world’s largest
economic center;
• One half of the world’s population are now considered to be mid-
dle class;
• Access to cybernetworks, not possession, is the measure of wealth;
Education
• Multidisciplinary and nonlinear thinking approaches are com-
monplace in most educational curricula;
• The transition has been made from a mostly illiterate world to a
mostly literate world;
• Interactive, virtual learning rooms that can be adapted to whatever
is being learned have replaced the classroom—virtual trips can be
taken to any part of the planet and to the communities in space;
• The term teacher has been eliminated from the lexicon; learning
specialists work with students on planning and reviewing work;
• Virtual learning rooms, cybernetworks, now allow students to view
and question scientists and other professionals as they do their
daily work;
• Students have individual, lifetime Web sites that provide informa-
tion, feedback, and updating regarding their individual learning
styles and guides students to resources that fit their specific learn-
ing needs and interests.
Demographics
• World population is now at 9 billion;
• U.S. population is now 390 million;
• One of ten people worldwide are 65 or older;
• Eastern Africa has more people than all countries in South Amer-
ica, the Caribbean, and Oceania, combined;
• Western Africa has the same population of all of Europe;
• India has more people than China.
Politics
• The U.S. Department of Defense and Peacekeeping is required by
law to allocate 50% of its budget to diplomacy and peacekeeping;
• All media provide free airtime to elections thus eliminating the
need for multimillion-dollar election campaigns;
• The Information Age has morphed into the Age of Truth where
business and governmental malfeasance is instantly reported via
cybernetworks;
86 Perry M. Marker
People sat outside on the porches of the country or the stoops of the
city to escape the summer heat. In the process they came to know their
neighbors well and felt a sense of real community. Then air-condition-
ing became widespread and available to even modest homes. The
porches and the stoops were abandoned as people stayed inside to
enjoy the cool. Getting to know your neighbor became a lot more diffi-
cult. In other words, air-conditioning contributed to the undoing of
‘community’ as we once knew it. If we had been less naïve and more
aware of the potential impact, we might still have embraced air-condi-
tioning, but we could have thought more cogently about ways of sus-
taining the community of our neighborhoods. (p. 282)
A Future-Oriented Perspective
Our world is dynamic and ever changing. Revolutionary innovation is oc-
curring throughout all aspects of society and will impact virtually every-
thing thing that we do. In fifty years, radical changes in social and
The Future is Now 89
Valle, 2004; Vinson & Ross, 2004). All of these positions have validity and
are certainly legitimate perspectives from which to build a social studies
curriculum. Regardless of one’s political perspectives as to what students
should learn, and how they should learn it, a future-oriented perspective
argues for a social studies curriculum that considers the future. Evans
(2004) argues that a key question that consumes the social studies is one
of its definition and vision. He states that the struggles over social studies
deserve a public discussion and deliberation, “shorn of the propaganda,
scapegoating, and interest group financing that we have seen in the
field’s recent history” (p. 178). Garcia (2004) suggests that if social stud-
ies is to remain viable in the twenty-first century, the field must avoid
being characterized as “old” and unresponsive to new forms of technol-
ogy. Social studies educators’ shared curricular interests should be in
promoting a democratic curriculum that attempts to find alternatives to
how we can best teach and learn. We can best promote democratic cur-
riculum when we address and confront our past, present, and future.
Maxine Greene (2000) has stated that we must be able to imagine our fu-
ture: “Where people cannot name alternatives or imagine a better state
of things, they are likely to remain anchored or submerged” (p. 52).
A future-oriented social studies needs to be encouraged, but it must
be rigorous and research based involving higher education, public school
personnel, and community members. We know more about teaching so-
cial studies than we knew fifty years ago. We know that we must connect
social studies content to the lives of the students, and we know that it takes
citizens who think critically to keep our democracy healthy and strong.
However, we cannot hope to reform the social studies without a future-
oriented perspective that involves us working more closely with schools.
This means thinking and working with those who are in schools on a daily
basis: administrators, teachers, students, staff, and community members.
There is an infinite “universe of possibilities” regarding how the social
studies curriculum could be taught and delivered. Social studies educa-
tors need to see themselves as working together with professionals in the
schools, working on curricular redesign efforts that focus on divergent
teaching and learning and research that can help jump-start a much
needed, sweeping reform of the social studies curriculum.
We should not move rashly to adopt a singular national curricular
perspective that is driven by ideology and special interests. Rather, we
need to take the time to conscientiously consider a wide array of per-
spectives that could help to reinvent the social studies curriculum and
make it relevant and flexible to meet the unknown demands of the fu-
ture. Perhaps we will discover that a social studies curriculum should be
regional rather than national to better serve the incredible diversity of
the society. Whatever the forum and its outcome, the time has come for
The Future is Now 91
social studies educators to discuss how its curriculum can meet the needs
of future generations of learners, unlock the learning potential of each
student, and ensure an exciting, engaging, and rigorous course of study.
details of such stories does not “sell.” As a result, many individuals and
corporations who commit crimes against the society and its citizens have
adopted the tactic of “riding out the firestorm” that their malfeasance
may create, knowing that the media and public will, more than likely, lose
interest. As we move into our future, what factors might change in our so-
ciety that will require new civic skills that can address this lack of focus?
For example, what new civic skills will be created to address issues of in-
stant communication and the inevitable influx of massive amounts of in-
formation? What new skills will be needed to sort through what may be
conflicting and contradictory data sources? A glimpse of the kind devel-
opment that may challenge future citizens’ civic skills is currently in evi-
dence through the establishment of online political blogs where citizens
are asked to use a variety of techniques and civic skills to instantaneously
and simultaneously investigate and influence legislation and legislators. A
social studies curriculum will need to identify and support the identifica-
tion and teaching of civic skills that will allow citizens to successfully navi-
gate and think critically about their democracy of the future.
Why not multiple, divergent definitions of citizenship education? For almost
a century social studies educators have been embroiled in an ongoing de-
bate, which, some argue, has been characterized as an all out “war” about
the definition of citizenship education. The search for a generally
agreed-upon meaning of citizenship education is tantamount to the holy
grail. It is time to call an end to this futile and divisive struggle. Rather
than a singular conception that all social studies educators must agree
upon, there can be many divergent and competing definitions of citi-
zenship education that all work toward the same goal of encouraging cit-
izens to participate in, and hence strengthen, their democracy. Social
studies educators all stand on the common ground of encouraging citi-
zens to participate in their democracy, regardless of their ideologies. It is
this end that social studies educators should be obliged to seek, and that
citizenship education must address.
Notes
1. To read a reprint of this report see Nelson, M. R. (Ed.) (1916/1994).
“The social studies in secondary education: A reprint of the seminal 1916 re-
port.” Bloomington Indiana: ERIC Clearinghouse for Social Studies/Social Sci-
ence Education. The curricular pattern established in 1916, and still persists
today, is:
grade K: Self, school, community, home
grade 1: Families
grade 2: Neighborhoods
grade 3: Communities
grade 4: State history, geographic regions
grade 5: U.S. History
grade 6: Western hemisphere
grade 7: World geography or world history
grade 8: U.S. History
grade 9: Civics
grade 10: World history
grade 11: U.S. History
grade 12: American government
2. For an extended discussion of how the millennials are impacting the
study of new literacies and forms of new capitalism, see the work of James Paul
Gee, University of Wisconsin, Madison.
3. This list was developed from a variety of resources that include the National
Academy of Sciences; The Rand Corporation; International Institute for Strategic
Studies; Glenn, J. C. (1999). “A Global Status Report, January 1, 2050, The Human-
The Future is Now 95
References
Barr, R. D., Barth, J. L., & Shermis, S. S. (1977). Defining the Social Studies. Wash-
ington, DC: National Council for the Social Studies.
Evangelista, B. (2004, December 27). The iPod generation portable digital audio
player becomes the apple of techno-centric eyes. San Francisco Chronicle, p. C3.
Evans, R. W. (2004). The social studies wars: What should we teach the children? New
York: Teachers College Press.
Finn Jr., C. E. (2003). “Why This Report?” In Terrorists, despots, and democracy: what
our children need to know. Washington, DC: Thomas B. Fordham Foundation.
Fordham Foundation. (2003). Terrorists, Despots, and Democracy: What Our Children
Need to Know. Washington, DC: Thomas B. Fordham Foundation.
Freire. P. (1974). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum.
Garcia, J. (2004, November/December). NCSS in the twenty-first century” The
Social Studies Professional, 184, 3.
Greene, M. (2000). Discovering a pedagogy. In Releasing the imagination: Essays
on education, the arts and social change (pp. 4–59). New York: Wiley.
It’s time to push the pendulum. (2004, October). Sunburst: The newsletter of the
California Council for the Social Studies, 30(1), 5.
Knight Foundation. (2005). The future of the First Amendment: What American high
school students think about their freedoms. Washington, DC: John S. and James L.
Knight Foundation.
Kopytoff, V. (2005, January 24). Web logs come of age as source of news. San
Francisco Chronicle, pp. C 1–C2.
Ladson-Billings, G. (Ed.). (2003). Critical race theory perspectives on the social studies:
the profession, policies, and curriculum. Greenwich, CT: Information Age Pub-
lishing.
Leming, J., Ellington, L., & Porter, K., (Eds.). (2003). Where Did Social Studies Go
Wrong? Washington, DC: Thomas B. Fordham Foundation.
Longstreet, W. S., & Shane, H. G. (1993). Curriculum for a new millennium. Boston:
Bacon.
Marker, P. M. (2004). “Old wine in a new bottle: 20th century social studies
in a 21st century world.” In K. D. Vinson & E. W. Ross (Eds.), Defending
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96 Perry M. Marker
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CHAPTER 5
DEFINING THE SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM
INFLUENCE OF AND RESISTANCE TO
CURRICULUM STANDARDS AND TESTING IN SOCIAL STUDIES
99
100 Sandra Mathison, E. Wayne Ross, and Kevin D. Vinson
These eight goals are broad and, as such, provoke little disagreement.
Goals 3 and 5 most clearly direct the ongoing emphasis on standards.
Eight years after Goals 2000 (still unmet by most states) the reauthoriza-
tion of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, renamed No Child
Left Behind (NCLB), solidified the “standards dream” (Mabry, 2004).
The term “educational standards” is used, though, in different ways.
Kohn (2000) distinguishes between a horizontal and vertical notion of
standards. Horizontal standards refer to “guidelines for teaching, the im-
plication being that we should change the nature of instruction.” The em-
phasis in the NCTM Standards on problem solving and conceptual
understanding, rather than rote memorization of facts and algorithms, is a
good example of this use of higher standards. “By contrast, when you hear
someone say that we need to ‘raise standards,’ that represents a vertical
shift, a claim that students ought to know more, do more, perform better.”
The term standards is therefore used to refer to both the criteria by which
we judge a student, teacher, school, and so on, as well as the level of per-
formance deemed acceptable on those criteria (Mathison, 2000).
Vinson and Ross (2001) sum up what standards-based education re-
form (SBER) is. SBER is an effort on the part of some official body—
Defining the Social Studies Curriculum 101
For both conservatives and liberals, SBER addresses two critical prob-
lems. First is the desire to see less federal government intervention in ed-
ucation, a position based on a desire to see power “restored” to states
and/or local districts. The second problem is the perceived threat to
U.S. competitiveness in the world economy, and the concomitant belief
that the failure of schools is at the root of this threat. (See Berliner & Bid-
dle, 1995, for a cogent challenge to this idea.) These two problems pre-
sent, on the surface, potentially conflicting responses—on the one hand
a decentralized, deregulatory solution seems called for and on the other
hand a centralized, regulatory solution seems necessary.
Conservatives advocate a single solution, SBER, as a tenuous strat-
egy for solving these two problems. SBER promotes an essentially na-
tionalist response without specific federal involvement. In other words,
SBER promotes agreement on shared curricular content such as back to
basics and Western culture (Hirsch, 1987, 1996; Ravitch, 1995; Ravitch
& Finn, 1987). Hirsch (1996) claims this position advocates equality of
opportunity: “. . . a core of shared knowledge, grade by grade, is needed
to achieve excellence and fairness in elementary education” (p. 138). At
least part of the failure of schools is their inadequacy in creating a cul-
ture of shared values, a homogenization of the citizenry represented in
a canon based on Western European, middle-class knowledge. These
shared values, he suggests, are critical to the promotion of economic jus-
tice and equality of opportunity.
This common core of shared knowledge is manifest in the conserva-
tive agenda of anti-immigrant policies, the English-only movement, ad-
vocacy of prayer in schools, and the elimination of affirmative action. In
addition, Ravitch (1995) suggests national standards provide a valuable
coordinating function—a creation of coherence in an otherwise unnec-
essarily differentiated curriculum, as well as protecting consumers by
providing accurate information about student and school performance.
Conservative supporters of SBER downplay direct federal govern-
ment intervention, though, choosing often to align the reform with the
voices of corporate America. Getting states and districts to adopt the core
is accomplished through persuasion, often economic in nature, by cor-
porate CEOs like IBM’s Lou Gerstner, and not through regulatory
means such as reform of school financing or an expansion of the federal
Department of Education. The adoption of business metaphors for
school reform is critical to the conservative agenda. Business provides the
framework for support of public school privatization, especially educa-
tional vouchers and charter schools, as well as the concepts for how
schools ought to be run, for example, merit pay for teachers.
While conservatives look to corporations for metaphors and
support, the liberal advocacy of standards is based on a professional
Defining the Social Studies Curriculum 103
Without doubt the most generic curriculum standards are those cre-
ated by the National Council for the Social Studies. As indicated earlier
these standards seek to create a broad framework of themes within which
local decision can be made about specific content. Specifically, the ten
thematic strands are:
• Culture
• Time, Continuity, and Change
• People, Places, and Environment
• Individual Development and Identity
• Individuals, Groups, and Institutions
• Power, Authority, and Governance
• Production, Distribution, and Society
• Science, Technology, and Society
• Global Connections
• Civic Ideals and Practices
Contrast both the NCSS and the history standards with those pub-
lished by the American Psychological Association for the teaching of
high school psychology. These standards mimic the study of psychology
at the collegiate level, including a focus on research methods and the
subdisciplines of psychology.
Methods Domain
• Introduction and Research Methods
Biopsychological Domain
• Biological Bases of Behavior
• Sensation and Perception
• Motivation and Emotion
• Stress, Coping, and Health
Developmental Domain
• Lifespan Development
Defining the Social Studies Curriculum 107
Cognitive Domain
• Learning
• Memory
• Thinking and Language
• States of Consciousness
Socialcultural Domain
• Individual Differences
• Personality and Assessment
• Psychological Disorders
• Treatment of Psychological Disorders
• Social and Cultural Dimensions of Behavior
As someone who has spent his entire career doing research, writing,
and thinking about educational testing and assessment issues, I would
like to conclude by summarizing a compelling case showing that the
major uses of tests for student and school accountability during the past
fifty years have improved education and student learning in dramatic
ways. Unfortunately, this is not my conclusion. Instead, I am led to con-
clude that in most cases the instruments and technology have not been
up to the demands that have been placed on them by high-stakes ac-
countability. Assessment systems that are useful monitors lose much of
their dependability and credibility for that purpose when high stakes
are attached to them. The unintended negative effects of high-stakes ac-
countability uses often outweigh the intended positive effects. (Linn,
2000, p. 14)
skill. Bad test questions (bad because there is no right answer; because
they are developmentally inappropriate; because they are impossibly dif-
ficult; because they are trivial; because they are culturally biased; and so
on) appear with regularity, often in newspapers and in the popular press.
Bracey (1999) offers some illustrations in an article in USA Today:
In Washington, fourth graders were asked to solve problems like this one:
“Lisa put some fruit in a large bowl. The bowl had twice as many apples as or-
anges, and half as many pears as oranges. Altogether there were 14 pieces of
fruit in the bowl. How many apples did Lisa put in the bowl? How many or-
anges? How many pears?” The requisite skills appear in 7th grade texts.
In Colorado, third graders read a vignette about Neil Armstrong in-
cluding his lunar landing statement, “One small step for a man, one giant
leap for mankind.” They were then asked to write an essay about what they
thought Armstrong meant.
And in South Dakota, sixth graders swallow this whopper: “Students will
analyze the geographic, political, economic and social structures of the early
civilization of Greece with emphasis on the location and physical setting that
supported the rise of this civilization; the connections between geography
and the development of city-states, including patterns of trade and com-
merce; the transition from tyranny to oligarchy to early democratic patterns
of government and the significance of citizenship; the differences between
Athenian, or direct democracy and representative democracy; the signifi-
cance of Greek mythology in everyday life of the people in ancient Greece
and its influence on modern literature and language; the similarities and
differences between the life in Athens and Sparta; the rise of Alexander the
Great in the north and the spread of Greek culture; and the cultural contri-
butions in the areas of art, science, language, architecture, government and
philosophy.” (p. 17a)
Any educational decision that will have a major impact on a test taker
should not be made solely or automatically on the basis of a single test
score. Other relevant information about the student’s knowledge and
skills should also be taken in to account. (p. 3)
For Debbie Byrd, a restaurant owner in Pittsfield, Mass, the call to arms
came two years ago, when her son began suffering panic attacks and gnawed
holes in his shirts over the state’s demanding fourth-grade proficiency tests.
(Lord, 2000)
She turned 10 last week. Her bed at home lies empty this morning as
she wakes in an unfamiliar bed at a psychiatric hospital. Anxiety disorder.
She had a nervous breakdown the other day. In fourth grade. She told her
parents she couldn’t handle all the pressure to do well on the tests. She was
right to worry: On the previous administration, 90% of Arizona’s kids
flunked. (Arizona Daily Star, April 2, 2000)
School Board members will discuss today whether they should institute
mandatory recess for all elementary schools, in response to a campaign by
Defining the Social Studies Curriculum 111
parents to give their children a break between classes. Preparing for Virginia
tests had so consumed most Virginia Beach schools they had abandoned this
traditional respite. The notion that children should have fun in school is
now a heresy. (Sinha, March 21, 2000)
Conclusion
There is currently no more powerful force in education and schooling
than the Standards-Based Education Reform movement. It is a move-
ment that enjoys both favor and disfavor across the political spectrum,
as well as special-interest groups including social classes, ethnicities, and
races. There is every reason to believe it will fail. This likelihood makes it
no less compelling as a force in contemporary educational reform.
Defining the Social Studies Curriculum 113
References
Berliner, D. C., & Biddle, B. J. (1995). The manufactured crisis: Myths, fraud, and the
attack on America’s public schools. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.
Bracey, G. (1999, September 2). We crush children under unrealistic standard-
ized tests. USA Today, p. 17a.
Guthrie, J. (2000, March 19). Schools go into high gear to prepare kids for state
exams. San Francisco Examiner. http://www.sfgate.com/cgibin/article.cgi?
file=examiner/hotnews/stories/19/test_sun.dlt
Healy, J. M. (1990). Endangered minds. New York: Touchstone.
Heubert, J. P, & Hauser, R. M. (Eds.). (1998). High stakes: Testing for tracking, pro-
motion and graduation. Washington, DC: National Academy Press. http://
www.nap.edu/catalog/6336.html
Hirsch, E. D. Jr. (1987). Cultural literacy. Boston: Houghton Mifflin
Hirsch, E. D. Jr. (1996). The schools we need and why we don’t have them. New York:
Doubleday.
Kohn, A. (2000). The case against tougher standards. http://www.alfiekohn.org/
standards/rationale.htm.
Kohn, A. (1996). Beyond discipline: From compliance to community. Reston, VA: Asso-
ciation of Supervision and Curriculum Development.
Linn, R. E. (2000). Assessments and accountability. Educational Researcher, 29(2),
4–16.
Lord, M. (2000, April 3). High-stakes testing: It’s backlash time: Students, par-
ents, schools just say no to tests. US News & World Report. http://www.
usnews.com/usnews/edu/articles/000403/archive_018457.htm
Mabry, L. (2004). Assessment, accountability, and the impossible dream. In
S. Mathison & E. W. Ross (Eds.), Defending public schools: The nature and limits
of standards-based reform and assessment. Westport, CT: Praeger.
Mathison, S. (2000). Promoting democracy through evaluation. In D. W. Hursh
& E. W. Ross (Eds.), Democratic social education: Social studies for social change
(p. 229–241). New York: Falmer.
Mathison, S., & Freeman, M. (2003, September 24). Constraining elementary
teachers’ work: Dilemmas and paradoxes created by state mandated testing.
Education Policy Analysis Archives, 11(34). Retrieved July 11, 2005 from
http://epaa.asu.edu/epaa/v11n34/
Mathison, S., & Ross, E. W. (Eds.). (2004). Defending public schools: The nature and
limits of standards-based reform and assessment. Westport, CT: Praeger.
Mehrens, W. (1998). Consequences of assessment: What is the evidence? Educational
Policy Analysis Archives, 16(13). http://epaa.asu.edu/epaa/v6n13.html
Nash, G. B., Crabtree, C., & Dunn, R. E. (1997). History on trial: Culture wars and
the teaching of the past. New York: Knopf.
Ohanian, S. (1999). One size fits few: The folly of educational standards. Portsmouth,
NH: Heinemann.
Popham, W. J. (2004). Standards based education: Two wrongs don’t make
a right. In S. Mathison & E. W. Ross (Eds.), Defending public schools: The
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Praeger.
114 Sandra Mathison, E. Wayne Ross, and Kevin D. Vinson
I wish I could say that racism and prejudice were only distant memories and
that liberty and equality were just around the bend. I wish I could say that
America has come to appreciate diversity and to see and accept similarity. But
as I look around, I see not a nation of unity but a division—Afro and white,
indigenous and immigrant, rich and poor, educated and illiterate.
Thurgood Marshall, 1992
115
116 Jack L. Nelson and Valerie Ooka Pang
decade ago we still did not have a nation of unity with liberty and justice
for all. Today, more than a half century has passed since the 1954 U.S.
Supreme Court decision in Brown v. Board of Education, but evidence from
current scholarship about the United States and most other nations shows
that racism and prejudice continue to be a compelling and dividing issue
of contemporary society in the United States and other nations (there are
many such works; a small sample would include: Banton, 2003; Barlow,
2003; Berbier, 2004; Campbell, Denes, & Morrison, 2000; Cowlishaw,
2004; Darder & Torres, 2004; Doty, 2003; Goudge, 2003; Guarjado &
Guarjado, 1996; Ross & Pang, 2006; Smedley, et al., 2003; Staiger, 2004;
Telles, 2004; Tsutsui, 2004). Though the Brown decision was an impor-
tant decree, many contemporary scholars continue to find that African-
American, Latino, American Indian, and Asian Pacific Islander students
still suffer severe academic inequalities from low graduation rates to at-
tending overcrowded, poorly funded schools (Califorians for Justice,
2001; Orfield & Lee, 2005; Patterson, 2001).
Apparently, scholars in the social sciences consider racism and prej-
udice as unresolved issues of great current importance, certainly impor-
tant enough to be studied by themselves and by students in schools.
Staiger’s (2004) ethnographic study shows more recently how continu-
ing negative stereotyping by white students in an urban magnet high
school demeans nonwhite students; desegregation falls far short of in-
tegration, she writes, “especially when schools avoid discussions about
race” (p. 161).
This is an issue of such magnitude and negative potential for society
that one would expect it to require increasing emphasis in the social
studies curriculum of our schools. Basic principles and purposes of civic
education and citizen development are stunted and distorted when dis-
crimination against minorities remains a social norm. But the social stud-
ies curriculum, with its traditional focus on history rather than issues,
often treats racism and prejudice as though these are resolved social
events, historic artifacts from a previous period. We usually offer students
historical information on such topics as slavery, the sorry treatment of
American Indians and Chinese and Irish and immigrants from most
countries, the Civil War, lack of legal status for women, internment of
Japanese in World War II, anti-Semitism, race riots, the Brown Decision,
and civil rights legislation. Many students, understandably, assume that
these issues are in the past and we are now a compassionate, caring de-
mocracy—a model for other peoples. Some conservative writers claim
that we are beyond racism (D’Souza, 1995). And the record of the Na-
tional Council for the Social Studies in addressing issues of racism and
prejudice is strangely mixed, representing a peculiarly cautious and con-
servative leadership of the social studies field (Garcia & Buendia, 1996).
Racism, Prejudice, and the Social Studies Curriculum 117
So, as Kleg outlines, though people often use the term of race, it is not
clearly defined and represents a destructive view of those whose origins
are perceived to differ from a European orientation. It is an arbitrary con-
struct that is intimately tied to issues of power and political relationships.
Omi and Winant (1994) provide an illuminating example of the po-
litical and legal power of racism in our society. A Louisiana woman, Susie
Guillory Phipps, sought to change her racial classification from black to
white. She thought of herself as white, but found that records with the
Louisiana Bureau of Vital Records listed her as being black. She sued the
agency, but lost. The state contended that since Phipps was a descendant
of an eighteenth-century white planter and a black slave, she should be
120 Jack L. Nelson and Valerie Ooka Pang
listed as black on her birth certificate. A 1970 state law decreed that any-
one with “at least 1/32–Negro blood” was to identified legally as black.
Phipps lost her case because the court ruled that the state had the right
to classify and identify one’s racial identity. During the trial, a Tulane
University professor testified that most of the whites in Louisiana were at
least 1/20 –Negro (Omi & Winant, 1994, pp. 53–54). Race is often used
to place people into a large social category that does not consider indi-
vidual differences. This example demonstrated the immense power of
our legal system to arbitrarily set racial membership of citizens; this la-
beling system can place its citizens in subordinate positions because of
historical and institutional racism and prejudice as in the Phipps case.
Philosopher Lawrence Blum (2002), after exposing social and moral
defects that result from the popular use of race, argues: “Popular ideas of
race, confused as they certainly are, remain in place not primarily because
of scientific misunderstandings but through the weight of a racialized his-
tory and the current legacy of racial depredations” (p.146). He suggests
that racialization should be substituted as a term for race, since it is the
prejudicial application of the term “race” to groups of people that need to
be addressed in educational settings. Black or white or brown conscious-
ness is based not on race, but on racial identity—racialization. Asian
Americans and Latinos, Blums indicates, have a very weak sense of being
distinct racial groups, but do “appreciate that they have been racialized”
though they do not confuse this with actually being a separate race. This
approach has some value in social studies classroom discussions, offering
examination of a process of racializing groups for political or prejudical
purposes rather than operating on an assumption that distinct races exist
on some natural basis. The process idea moves us away from race as a nec-
essary condition of humans to consideration of possible changes in how
racialization works and how its impact can be mitigated. This takes away
the unscientific weight of the concept of race, while it permits critical
study of racism.
Racialization has been used to marginalize and exclude the partici-
pation of citizens in our legal and political affairs. Our history has many
examples of how the construct of race has been used to oppress mem-
bers of specific groups. African-American slaves were prohibited from
having any freedoms, even the freedom to learn to read. In numerous
cases African-Americans were killed because they strove to secure their
physical and intellectual freedom. In addition, Chinese immigrants be-
came the first group to be identified and excluded by race from immi-
grating to the United States as a result of the Chinese Exclusion Act of
1882. Executive Order 9066 signed in 1942 imprisoned a whole segment
of the population without due process. Not only were Japanese Ameri-
cans forced into concentrations camps, they were also stripped of all civil
Racism, Prejudice, and the Social Studies Curriculum 121
moving to another place will not resolve the issue. It is also a social and
psychological question that incorporates changes in values and behav-
iors. This makes it an educational issue and a particularly important
topic for social studies.
Lest we leave the impression with these observations that things are
no better than before, that racism and prejudice are so pervasive as to
never be addressed, or that the American credo will always be a myth, we
hasten to indicate that there has been progress and things are better for
most people than they were at the nation’s founding. We applaud those
improvements in civilization, but we recognize how haltingly slow and
frustratingly fragile the process has been. Human grievances caused by
racism and prejudice are fraught with individual sacrifice and destructive
of our nation’s principles and strength. They continue as we strive to-
ward a better society, but the hesitant and twisting path to equality and
justice is a necessary transit to improvements in civilization.
We are optimistic, but realize vigilance and strenuous struggle are
necessary if the United States is to deliver on its ideals. Our optimism, de-
spite many distracting backward loops, is rooted in a belief in education
as a liberating and progressive activity. Education is liberating when it
frees the mind and spirit from oppressive superstition, myth, and exter-
nal control. It is progressive when it is based on a set of ideals that are in-
creasingly civilizing and inclusive—more equality and justice for more
people for more time. Social studies, properly developed, offers that crit-
ical opportunity for the future generations.
The great tensions between claims of equality or justice and the stark
reality of inhumane events in U.S. society provide a background against
which to examine and elaborate those ideals, extending them to more
people and to more governments. Prior to World War II, the idea of an
international legal challenge to governments and their leaders for
crimes against humanity did not exist, but the crimes did. That may offer
little solace to those who have and will suffer from those crimes, but of-
fers a glint of light to those in the future, as the ideas become criteria for
behavior. Similarly, racism and ethnic prejudice in the United States, as
depreciating and demoralizing as they are, are less acceptable in public
discourse and less permissible in public action than they were a century
ago. That progress is attributable to those, like Thurgood Marshall, who
carry the struggle forward, and attributable to the ideals themselves.
Without the ideals, there would be no criteria against which to measure
humanity’s progress. Without a strong liberating and progressive educa-
tion, the ideals remain words in a document and phrases at political con-
ventions. Hope resides with the young that social practice will approach
social ideals; education is the greatest force for the greatest good—
though education can also be abused and misused to create and sustain
Racism, Prejudice, and the Social Studies Curriculum 125
racism and prejudice. Blind faith education, even when it is the result of
good intentions, can narrow and constrict, offering support for views
that prejudice thrives upon.
for Children, 1982; Gay, 2003; Loewen, 1995; Perlmutter, 1992). It is also
evident that people of Asian and Pacific descent are virtually unrecognized
in the school curriculum (Pang, 2005; Pang & Cheng, 1998). Lack of ade-
quate, fair, and critical study in social studies is detrimental to the basic pur-
poses of social studies: social knowledge, civic education, and critical
thinking. Students of social studies deserve a better education.
Superficial techniques have been adopted by various organizations in
order to appear less “racist.” We have seen textbook companies move
away from the use of biased language against those who have been placed
in the category as “other.” For examples, there are few books that
presently use the terms of “savage,” “primitive,” or “noble Indian” to de-
scribe American Indians. In addition, many educators have eliminated
language that describes people from underrepresented “racial” groups as
“needy, disadvantaged, or less fortunate.” Stereotypical language has been
for the most part pushed out of textbooks. However, the underlying issue
of domination is still hidden in much of the social studies curriculum
(e.g., Loewen, 1995). Elizabeth Lasch-Quinn (2001), writes that positive
social developments from the civil rights movement have been derailed by
a combination of racist ideologues and race experts, new etiquettes in po-
litical correctness, and the self-centeredness of new age therapies. She ar-
gues that critical examination of extant ideas on race and racism can help
to bring us back to a focus on correcting the faults of prejudice. For
schools, that examination is best done in good social studies classrooms.
Social studies textbooks, for the most part, ignore racism. Loewen
(1995) studied twelve national textbook series and found they lacked con-
troversy because their implicit goal seemed to indoctrinate students in
“blind” patriotism. For example, he found that only one third of the text-
books series he reviewed accurately presented U.S. President Woodrow
Wilson’s views on race. Wilson was openly racist, a southerner who was “an
outspoken white supremacist and told ‘darky’ stories in cabinet meetings”
(Loewen, 1995, p. 27). As president, he segregated federal workers.
Loewen challenges textbook representations of Wilson as an American
hero, arguing that this presentation arises from a white, dominant view-
point. Wilson blocked legislation and actions that would have provided
more civil rights to people from underrepresented groups. For example,
Wilson hired whites in positions that were traditionally given to blacks dur-
ing his administration. He also vetoed a clause on racial equality that had
been proposed as part of the Covenant of the League of Nations.
Unfortunately, the social studies curriculum does a poor job examin-
ing the disparity between the American credo and pervasiveness of racism
in the American experience. Social studies as a discipline should ac-
knowledge and take responsibility for contributing to a racist and preju-
dicial agenda via its curriculum. As a field, social studies has often ignored
130 Jack L. Nelson and Valerie Ooka Pang
[The National Council for the Social Studies’] record on civil rights can
only be characterized as negligent at best and indifferent at worst. NCSS
largely ignored the civil rights movement and in the process demon-
strated indifference toward a social crisis of immense significance, one
that challenged the very basis of democratic institutions and posed dif-
ficult questions for educators who daily had to confront the gap be-
tween stated ideals and social experience. (Nelson & Fernekes, 1992,
pp. 96, 98)
Racism, Prejudice, and the Social Studies Curriculum 131
Conclusion
Racism and prejudice continue at a serious and frightening level in Amer-
ican society. Basic principles claimed for U.S. democracy are contradicted
by the reality of the American experience, particularly for persons of
color. In this light the American credo is a gross hypocrisy. The debilitat-
ing irrationality of racism is eroding the core of U.S. society. Social stud-
ies is the area of the school curriculum most suited to examine racism and
to provide knowledge and critical analysis as a basis for anti-racist action.
The history of social studies responses to racism and prejudice offers little
hope, however social studies educators have within their power the abil-
ity to redress the past failures of the field. The time to act is now.1
The fundamental purposes of education, knowledge and critical
thinking, provide a strong rationale for NCSS and for all social studies
teachers to examine their own beliefs about racism and how these atti-
tudes influence social studies instruction. In addition, social studies edu-
cators must critically investigate the knowledge and values fostered by
the curriculum. If the social studies curriculum continues to ignore, ster-
ilize, excuse, or condone racism and prejudice the gap between the ide-
alized American and the American experience will only grow.
When Joseph Hawkins (1996), an educator with the Montgomery
County Public Schools, read the introductory quote from Thurgood
Marshall to a group of teacher candidates in the Midwest, he asked the
mostly white audience of students and faculty if they knew who Thur-
good Marshall was. A black young woman spoke up saying that Marshall
was the first African-American Supreme Court justice.
Hawkins probed the audience further; he asked, “What in American
history did he help shape?” There was dead silence. What Hawkins real-
ized from this experience that many teachers are not prepared to deal
with the social challenges of race and other issues dealing with bias. They
did not know of the relative recent history of Brown vs. Board of Education
of 1954 where Marshall was the lead lawyer for the case against segre-
gated schools even though their role as teachers would have been far dif-
ferent without the leadership of Marshall in that Supreme Court
decision. Hawkins was rightly concerned about the education of preser-
vice teachers and he believed what he found in this group of preservice
teachers was representative of others across the nation.
132 Jack L. Nelson and Valerie Ooka Pang
Note
1. There are groups of social studies educators working within and
outside of the National Council for the Social Studies that make issues of
social justice and anti-racist education central to the social studies cur-
riculum. See for example the Rouge Forum (www.rougeforum.org) and
Whole Schooling Consortium (www.coe.wayne.edu/wholeschooling).
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CHAPTER 7
THE COLOR OF SOCIAL STUDIES
A POST–SOCIAL STUDIES REALITY CHECK
Frances V. Rains
Race—the veritable “R” word. There is great discomfort when the “R”
word is used. I have observed the palpable wince when it is said out loud
in a room. When it is said in connection to the social studies curriculum,
it is so visceral that I can feel it even as I write this. It can make some roll
their eyes, while others may squirm in their chairs. Eye contact is lost.
And to the acute observer, a subtle glaze of disengagement can be wit-
nessed. A cross of something between, “ooh, this doesn’t pertain to me
because I’m White and race is about color,” or possibly, “I had a workshop
on race once, so I already know about race” begins to stealthily advance
across the audience. This is not to discount the broader range of per-
spectives that may exist, but rather to acknowledge that reactions to the
word “race” and the social studies curriculum are very tangible.
At the same time, simply put, “race matters” (West, 1993). In the bigger
picture of the United States, it mattered wholeheartedly in the past, and it
matters today. It may seem obvious, but it bears stating: the past is con-
nected to the present. Without an understanding of the race-based struc-
tural inequalities of the past, the present context of race in this country is
more difficult for many citizens to understand (e.g., Ambler, 2003; Bell,
1992; Chow, 1993; Darder & Torres, 1998; Lomawaima, 1999; Trueba,
1999; Kame’eleihiwa, 1992; Jackson, 1881/1993; West, 1993). The visceral
wince in a roomful of people can suddenly expand into rippling waves
across the country.
Unfortunately, the social studies curriculum has not been constructed
in a manner that offers many citizens the means they need to counter the
deluge of racial stereotypes and misinformation that exists within popular
137
138 Frances V. Rains
culture, mass media and day-to-day living. Social studies curricula could
provide the skills. Instead, the predominant “heroes and holidays” (Lee,
Menkart, Okazawa-Rey, 1998) social studies curricula, name-drops and
lightly colorizes without managing to provide substance, context, or the
ways in which racial issues have arisen in this country. This curriculum may
“feel good” and may even be “politically correct,” yet it fails to provide the
tools necessary to address race matters in intelligent ways.
Looking at the social studies curriculum with a capital “C,” it is not un-
common for social studies professionals and teacher educators to engage
in social studies work from the front end, from the standpoint of content
and instructional methods. It is a “pre-Social Studies” process. This is done
with earnest deliberation, determining what is important to include, how
it will be taught, and how it will be assessed. Make no mistake, this process
is essential to the successful delivery of the social studies curriculum.
Still, the preoccupation with the front end of social studies produces
colorblindness to the racial outcomes of this process. And, given the vis-
ceral reactions to the “R” word, this pre–social studies process alone, has
not been enough to bring race and the social studies curriculum into
focus, nor resuscitate the very tangible disengagement that occurs when
the word is mentioned. Therefore, for the purposes of this chapter, I
focus on the other end, on post–social studies realities, on how the color
of social studies plays out in real life, after people have had social studies.
I posit that this focus provides a type of post-social studies reality check.
It has the power to inform our thinking about race, the curriculum, and
the pre–social studies process.
Race, though, can seem so broad that one might not know where to
begin. Lest that be a stumbling block for those who might willingly take
on the task of rethinking the pre–social studies process with regard to
race and curriculum, I offer, here, the lived experiences and voices of
American Indian1 college students. Race is certainly not limited to Amer-
ican Indians, by any stretch of the imagination, and it must be noted that
my reasoning here is to simply offer concrete examples. Concrete exam-
ples have an ability to take something that might feel nebulous, and
bring it into sharper focus. It gives us something to ponder and wrestle
with, a place to begin to do the harder work of interrogating how we
think about race in relation to the curriculum.
The examples offered and interviews given, then, by these Native col-
lege students may shed light on the ways in which the Whiteness of social
studies works to subordinate the proverbial Other/s, and perpetuate the
status quo, while appearing politically correct. I assert that this “feel
good” approach, intended for the white majority, in fact, does not feel
good, especially when the “benign” (Rains, 1998) color of social studies
collides with post–social studies realities.
The Color of Social Studies 139
States had negotiated with “the Indians.” He went on to state that treaties
were “unfair to whites and should be abolished immediately.”
Then I received an e-mail directly from her daughter (K. Jones3,
e-mail communication, October 30, 2003) requesting any assistance I
might offer on resources on treaties. When we spoke on the phone, she
said, “This young man talked directly about my people and me, stating in
front of the whole class that he ‘knew’ that we, the Lower Elwha Klallam
people, ‘did not pay for our houses, but were given our houses and our
land for free.’”
This racial confrontation had occurred during her speech class at
the community college. So, this young Native woman, in a predomi-
nantly white class, changed her final speech topic from the original one
she had been interested in researching and learning more about, in
order to respond to this young white man. In her e-mail, and on the
phone, she was upset at these highly inaccurate and misunderstood ver-
bal attacks, and felt that she had no choice but to change her topic.
In her speech, she explained the reasons why the treaties were es-
tablished, by whom, ratified by whom (Congress), and for whose real
benefit (non-Indians). She explained that non-Indians hold title to most
of the land mass of this continent due to the unscrupulous deals made
via these treaties, often with the aid of vested non-Indian interpreters
and politically appointed Indian agents. She explained that the federal
government could simultaneously make a treaty with one Nation or set of
Nations, while at the same time, practice a form of ethnic cleansing on
other Native Nations (e.g., Blaut, 1993; Brown, 1971; Cocker, 1998; Jack-
son, 1880/1993; Jennings, 1975, 1993; LaDuke, 1999; Prucha, 1962,
1994). She then had to explain to the class and her instructor that Na-
tion Nations only retain 4% of the original landmass.
In her speech, she had to explain to this young white man, to her
other white classmates, and to her white instructor that the Lower Elwha
Klallam do, in deed, pay for their houses. She had to explain that the
land, her small reservation and the two other Klallam reservations, were
not free but, instead, represented all that was left of Klallam Territory,
which once covered the northern third of the Olympic Peninsula before
the coming of the white man and the treaties. That he, this young white
man, actually was living and going to college on what was Klallam Terri-
tory before the treaties, was a post–social studies reality that was not lost
on this young Native woman. She said, “ I had to explain it to them, since
they clearly never learned about this in school” (K. Jones, in-person conversa-
tion, November 27, 2003).
One could argue that it was a “teachable moment.” No doubt that
is true, but at what cost to this young Klallam’s identity, in a predomi-
The Color of Social Studies 141
nantly white class, with a white instructor? What personal costs would it
entail for her in a racially antagonistic college climate? What long-
range sociopolitical and cultural consequences would there be for her,
when she had to sacrifice her own learning interests, in order to teach
her peers and her instructor so that she could feel she had a right to be
in class?
I maintain that such post–social studies realities come with a hidden
tax (Rains, 1995, 1999), similar to a poll tax, that such students of color
must pay, simply to be in class. And in a classroom where the anti-Indian
sentiment runs high, this tax can sometimes prove to be too much for
the lone Native student in the room.
At the same time, what benefits (Rains, 1995, 1999) did this white in-
structor accrue, while the Native student “did the work?” As the Native
student paid the hidden tax to stay in the class, the white instructor “sat
back and quietly watched it all unfold” (K. Jones, personal communica-
tion, November 3, 2003). Where was the white instructor’s teaching re-
sponsibility and moment of opportunity that this little post–social studies
reality offered?
How did this form of taxation on the Native student relieve the bur-
den from the social studies curriculum to educate this white male stu-
dent, his white peers, and his white instructor on racial inequalities
embedded in U.S. history? For example, the white male student’s accu-
sation reflected the erroneous assumption that treaties were a form of pref-
erential treatment that miraculously bathed Indians in economic
wealth. In reality, treaties were legal documents that offered protection
to the Native Nation/s of any particular treaty, in exchange for drasti-
cally reduced living space, educational opportunities, and occasionally,
traditional fishing or hunting rights. In post–social studies reality,
treaties only minimally protected the particular Native Nation/s until
their reservation land was deemed to be valuable real estate, or had oil,
coal, fresh water, potential hydropower, uranium, timber, fish, or space
for grazing cattle. It was then considered too valuable by non-Indians to
continue to honor the treaty made. And since Indians were not legally
considered human beings until 1879, they had little legal recourse when
treaties were broken. The verdict for Standing Bear v. Crook case did,
however, determine,
[t]hat an Indian is a ‘person’ within the meaning of the laws of the
United States, and has, therefore, the right to sue out a writ of habeas
corpus in a federal court, or before a federal judge, in all cases where he
may be confined or in custody under color of authority of the United
States, or where he is restrained of liberty in violation of the constitu-
tion or laws of the United States. (Prucha, 1990, p. 153)
142 Frances V. Rains
Now being considered a person had its merits, but still did little to
truly provide Indians with tools to protect their rights. And although
Indians were not legally considered to be actual “citizens” on a na-
tional level until 1924, their ability and minimum financial resources
to defend their treaty rights were often diverted to basic survival strate-
gies. Many Indians were not permitted to regularly vote until the mid-
1960s. This mirrored the voting experiences of Mexican-Americans in
the southwest and African-Americans in the south. Much as civil rights
had empowered people of color, in general, Natives, too, had to de-
fend their rights, in this case, treaty rights. And, their efforts to do so,
in the face of bigotry and hostile acts, became acts of empowerment
(e.g., Doherty, 1990; Ulrich, 1999; Wilkinson, 2000).
When the social studies curriculum bypasses such history, then all
students lose the opportunities to better understand and learn about the
history of race relations, about the ability to stand up for one’s rights as
a form of civil liberty, and about change, that however slow, things can
change. This young white man, his white peers and white instructor,
however, apparently did not have the benefit of such a social studies cur-
riculum. And the young Klallam woman, had to pay the price. Although
she made it clear to me that she, naturally, would want them to know that
her People did not get land and houses for free, she nevertheless was
angry and upset by their ignorance. She was frustrated that she had to
spend her learning opportunity on them, instead of on what she had
wanted to learn about through the speech. She couldn’t believe she was
having to teach them basic Indian/white relations from U.S. history.
I assert that the social studies “feel good,” “heroes and holidays” cur-
riculum perpetuates white privilege and reifies the status quo (Rains,
1998). This white male student felt confident and somewhat arrogant in
being able to confront this lone Native college student with inaccurate
information. Certainly, misinformation can come from many different
sources. Social studies, however, has the power to be the place where stu-
dents could acquire through content, inquiry, and practice, accurate in-
formation on race.
• White teachers
• White administrators
• White secretaries
• White nurses
• White counselors
• White coaches, and
• White bus drivers
were so ignorant about Indians, in general, and about the Lower Elwha
Klallam People, in particular. When a racist incident occurred, it was com-
mon practice to penalize the Indian students, while often allowing the
white students to go unpunished. Deeply concerned about this issue and its
import for the future generation of the tribe, the Lower Elwha Klallam held
a council meeting and decided to take a bold and empowering action.
The Lower Elwha Klallam Nation made the decision to host a tradi-
tional potlatch as an effort to bridge the cultural divide. White teachers,
administrators and staff were cordially invited to attend.
It is important to note that many of these white teachers lived less
than twenty miles away, yet had never set foot on the reservation before.
Some had taught Native students in their classes for years, but had never
come out to the reservation to learn more about their students or the
tribal community that the school served.
It is also important to note that hosting a traditional potlatch required
an enormous amount of money for this financially strapped little tribe. A
traditional seafood feast had to be prepared. As this is a Coast Salish fish-
ing nation, the livelihood of many of the tribal community members de-
pends on catching fish and shellfish. Preparing for this feast meant that
they donated whole catches to this dinner. Dungeness crab caught in Dun-
geness Bay and the cold waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, along with
shrimp, oysters, and salmon had to be traditionally prepared. Several vari-
eties of clams (e.g., geoduck, butter, cockles) had to be dug and baked or
made into chowder. Salmon fillets spread on wooden stakes had to be
cooked over open fires. Although all of these foods are traditional to the
Klallams, it still takes an enormous amount of time and preparation. In ad-
dition, gifts had to be made, Pendleton blankets had to be purchased.
Part of the purpose of a potlatch is to generously feed and “gift” the
invited guests, to honor and thank them, and to give all the gifts away.
Ceremonial dancing and singing also accompany the dinner festivities. It
was a huge undertaking, at some expense, but given the tribe’s concern
was for the welfare of their children, and this seemed a proactive effort.
144 Frances V. Rains
However, after the potlatch with the white teachers, my Lower Elwha
Klallam student expressed disappointment that not one of the teachers,
despite their five, ten, or fifteen years of working with this tribe’s children,
knew what a potlatch was prior to attending this cultural event. She stated
that many of the teachers made individual comments during the potlatch
at how surprised they were to realize that the Lower Elwha Klallam didn’t
live in tipis. These teachers, who worked and lived within twenty miles of
this Coast Salish Nation, who had Lower Elwha Klallam children in their
classes every single day, did not know, apparently, that the Coast Salish
had traditionally lived in plank-style cedar longhouses.
Granted, the “feel good” curriculum could address housing easy
enough. The Tribal Elder understood this. Rather, she offered the hous-
ing example to expose the lack of even the most basic information about
Indians, in general, of many of the white teachers who work with her
grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. Her point was that if they didn’t
even know that, how could they possible be able to treat her grandchil-
dren, nieces, and nephews with a modicum of respect?
This post–social studies reality was a glaring message to the Indian
parents and to the tribe regarding how race is not studied in the social
studies curriculum. Teachers who do not know the race relations history
of the past will have a difficult time turning the present tide of Native
teen drop-outs. This, then, is another small window on the lived experi-
ences of post–social studies realities.
. . . make the town’s past its future. Port Gamble should become the west
coast ‘Old Sturbridge Village;’ the Puget Sound Pioneer Village. . . .
There are many examples of these ‘living history’ museums around the
country. But none of these towns, whether original or restructured, is
more perfectly suited to the task than Port Gamble. . . . The mill itself
would certainly take a bit of retrofitting to return to working mid-1800s
The Color of Social Studies 145
condition but the site is intact. . . . Port Gamble Bay would once again
harbor tall-masted schooners. Even the Hilltop Cemetery would be an ed-
ucational encounter—a poignant testament to the perilous lives of those
early families. . . . The experience would be greatly enhanced by the par-
ticipation of the Port Gamble S’Klallam Tribe. A replica of an early S’K-
lallam village should be constructed next to ‘Old Port Gamble.’ Displays
would explain the role of salmon, past and present. Tribal artists could
exhibit their work. On calm days dugout canoes could ply the waters of
the bay. . . . Appropriately costumed staff would guide the tours and
demonstrate various activities of life in both the early mill town and S’K-
lallam village. Special events could be scheduled including 4th of July pic-
nics and S’Klallam salmon bakes. . . . I feel my mission here is done, Port
Gamble is saved. Now, what to do with Indianola? [another White com-
munity]. (Tweten, 2003, p. 8)
Class reactions to the article began with eye rolling, but quickly turned
to exasperation. After all, this was the small white town that made the
S’Klallams move across the bay, promising them lumber to build big,
new homes, if they would just leave their ancestral longhouses on this
beautiful point of land. The other side of the little bay was prone to
flooding, which is why the S’Klallams had not built their longhouses
there in the first place. Still, living was hard after the 1855 signing of the
Treaty of Point No Point (ratified by Congress in 1859), and the white
town’s people promised the S’Klallams jobs. So, the S’Klallams had
moved to the other side with promises of jobs and good housing, and the
white town’s people proceeded to burn the S’Klallam longhouses to the
ground (Beckwith, Hebert, & Woodward, 2002, pp. 53–54). The white
town built the timber mill on the site of an ancient burial ground, and
“a white man gathered the bones of the cemetery, piled them and
poured coal-oil on” (Beckwith, et al., p. 53). This is the white town that
raped the primordial rain forest of this part of Klallam Territory, clear-
cutting the giant trees4 as they went. This is the white town that milled
those giant logs, making white town members rich, while the S’Klallams,
some of whom did work at the mill, lived in poverty, across the bay.
The millwork of white Port Gamble so polluted the waters that now,
despite the years that have past since its heyday, and despite the Boldt
Decision (Prucha, 1990, pp. 267–268) to protect the traditional fishing
rights of treaties, the fishing rights cannot always be honored because
the fish are sometimes too poisoned to eat. The small amount of edible
fish have been overfished, and the traditional ways and form of economic
independence for the Port Gamble S’Klallam are reduced.
That a white journalist could suggest putting a S’Klallam village
“next to” the town that actually occupies the location of the original
S’Klallam village was culturally offensive to my students. That she could
suggest July 4, the honoring of Anglo-Saxon independence from Britain,
146 Frances V. Rains
IT’S NOT RIGHT! Maybe, maybe what they [the white teachers]
need is an Indian Holocaust Museum. So, they could learn about
us. I went to the Jewish Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. It
was hard, but I learned a lot. Maybe we need an Indian one, so
that teachers could learn.
The curriculum has to get more accurate about our history. Here
I am in college, just learning for the first time about a lot of this
history. It’s pretty sad that you have to wait till college to learn what
happened to the different tribes!!
Right now, in the public schools here, they don’t even mention
the Indians from this region!! The books, and the teachers, seem
to have NO CLUE!! Instead, they teach about the Plains Indians
and the Cherokee!! . . . When I was a kid, I came home from
school thinking I must be a Cherokee because those were the only
Indians our teacher talked about!!! What’s weird is, it hasn’t
changed!!! The teachers STILL do that!!!
She continued:
The whole class agreed with this, with vigorous nodding. And the
mother of four from Port Gamble, wrapped it all up by saying,
So, these Indian college students were gravely concerned that not enough
effort was placed on the Indian experiences within each state. They were
concerned that the curricula oversimplified and universalized Indians as a
homogenous group—with an overemphasis on Plains tribes. They were
concerned that teachers seemed to be weaned on, as one student put it, a
“whitewashed history.” They were concerned about how that type of cur-
ricula had a direct bearing on the experiences of their children, as Indi-
ans, in the interracial classrooms, on the interracial school buses, and even
at interracial extracurricular events. But they wanted it to be clear that they
wanted that history not just for their children, but for white children, too.
Although these voices pose a different sort of post–social studies real-
ity, they were speaking from the heart. These are voices that are rarely
“heard” in such books. Yet, the points they raise about the social studies
curriculum are worthy of consideration. Take, for example, the “feel
good” way in which the elementary social studies curriculum addresses In-
dians. Between the third and fourth grades, it is not uncommon across
the country to have a social studies unit on “Indians.” Studied from the
basic five to seven geographic regions of the land, comparisons [typically]
are then made regarding housing, food, clothing, and transportation.
Children make paper feathers and crinkled brown paper “buckskin”
clothes. And there are many non-Indians who have fond memories of
making dioramas and replicas of Native houses when they were a child.
I would like to believe that those days are gone. That is, I would like
to believe that we are not still teaching about Indians as was done in the
1930s and 1940s. I would like to believe the social studies curriculum has
The Color of Social Studies 149
moved beyond the “what was life like for ‘Indians’ of _____ [geographic
region]______ before Columbus?” which leaves us frozen in a time warp.
I would like to believe that in the new millennia we could actually teach
more substantive content, but as the National Center for Educational
Statistics’ “The Nation’s Report Card, 2001, U.S. History Highlights” re-
minded me, this sort of housing, foods, transportation, and clothing
comparison approach is quite alive and well in the curriculum. Take for
example, the “Sample ‘Complete’ Response” that stated:
Choose an American Indian group from the map, and circle its name
directly on the map. [A map, sectioned into regions with 1–4 tribal
names each, is offered to the left of the question.] On the chart below,
list one way this American Indian group got food, shelter, and clothing
in the period before Europeans came to the Americas. Then list one
way your family gets food, shelter, and clothing. [After that . . .] Give
one reason why the American Indian group long ago and your family
today differ in the ways they get their food, shelter, or clothing. (Na-
tional Center for Educational Statistics, 2001, p. 13)
In this example, there is the map to the right of the “circle the Indian
group” and “chart” question. Below the map [the sample child circled Iro-
quois on the map] and questions was a little chart. The answers to the chart
had been written in a child’s manuscript hand [reproduced in italics here].
Don’t get me wrong, recognizing that there are different regions is use-
ful. Clearly, the teachers who went to the potlatch might have benefited
from at least that distinction. But beyond reinforcing regional stereo-
types, it seems a bit skewed to ask a student to compare apples and or-
anges. It seems a bit odd to have a child compare a group of people, in
this case, a “group” of Indians, from more than 400 years ago, with a po-
tentially non-Indian child from today. More understandable would be a
comparison between a Native “group” and a Settler group (e.g., Swedish,
Dutch, Spanish, French, English) of the same time period. Perhaps, two
Indian “groups” could have been compared, but to take a racial group
from one time period and compare them to an individual, in a com-
pletely different millennia, seems a bit off the mark.
It does, however, bring home the notion that American Indians are
treated as relics of the past. It may be really safe to learn about generically
regional Indian life before Columbus, and one can “feel good” about
learning that. But that was more than 500 years ago. It leaves a bit of a hole
in one’s learning to have an entire country, full of diverse people, only
come up for proverbial air for a big turkey dinner, a couple of wars around
the Revolution, and then, once or twice in the 1800s, mostly as obstacles to
progress [read: Manifest Destiny], and then to be submerged into oblivion
again, basically forever more. It’s an interesting approach. Of course, were
the tables turned, and Indians wrote history and did the same thing to the
white Americans, curricularly speaking, I would imagine it would be
frowned upon as having left a few key things out of the bigger picture.
The reason I share the test questions is to illustrate that far from being
gone, this regions/comparison approach to Indian inclusion in the cur-
riculum is alive and well, and seemingly popular as a way of counting “di-
versity” at the same time. Although this practice may reinforce stereotypes
of what “real” Indians look like, albeit from 500-plus years ago, it does little
to help with the post–social studies realities. It would seem that more is
needed. Teaching about how anyone got their food or shelter 500–600
years ago may not help a white male college student understand treaties,
how they came to be, who they benefited, or what treaty rights are. Being
able to recognize that Indians of 500 years ago “didn’t have stores or real es-
tate people” may not help a white journalist understand why the S’Klallam
replica village idea to save the white town across the small bay might be
problematic. And it may not help white teachers, who live less than 20 miles
from a Coast Salish reservation, understand that the Native teen drop-out
rate might, just might, be connected to the rate of racial incidences and
how they are [mis]handled by the predominantly white school. I do hope,
however, that by considering the Native examples of lived experience and
voices, a small window on the post–social studies realities might offer a fresh
approach to thinking about race and the social studies curriculum.
The Color of Social Studies 151
The women of color list has been very short, mainly Pocahontas
and Sacagawea. If someone has had a black history course, Madame
C. J. Walker or Mary McLeod Bethune may come up. Mainly, though, the
students just look at each other, looking miserable. It becomes pretty
clear, pretty fast, that they have had a Eurocentric history curriculum.
When I ask questions, especially about the people of color they have
named, they typically cannot offer one fact beyond Mr. King’s “I have a
dream” speech. They don’t actually know the speech, itself, although
they say they have heard it “over, and over, and over again every January.”
They just know the name of it. My point is the name-dropping has col-
orized a bit, but the substance behind the names is absent. I am not sure
how much it helps a citizen to know a name and not really know who the
person is. There is value, however, in knowing and understanding what
someone did, why they did it, under what circumstances and conditions,
and what were the consequences. That however hasn’t seemed to make
it into the curriculum yet, at least not in a manner that students can re-
tain by the time they get to college.
As Cornel West suggests, we must begin to dialogue in meaningful
ways about race that address the complexities. I ask that we move beyond
the colorizing, the name-dropping, and the politically correct, to deal
with race in earnestly helpful ways for our future citizenry. We can ill-
afford to treat race like the speed bumps on the Eurocentric highway of
life. Race has been an integral part of the American landscape ever since
the first European set foot on Indian land.
I ask that we take the post–social studies realities into our “presocial
studies” processes. I ask that we begin to include:
These are just a few ways to begin, I hope, to think differently about race
and the social studies curriculum. The “feel good” curriculum is not
enough to prepare our future generations for the post–social studies re-
alities. As Hinmahtooyahlatkekt (Chief Joseph), Nez Percé once declared,
they amount to something. Good words do not pay for my dead people.
They do not pay for my country, now overrun by White men. They do
not protect my father’s grave. They do not pay for all my horses and cat-
tle. Good words will not give me back my children. Good words will not
give my people good health and stop them from dying. Good words will
not get my people a home where they can live in peace and take care of
themselves. I am tired of talk that comes to nothing. It makes my heart
sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises.
(Miller, 1996, p. 342)
Let us do more than talk. Let us think about the post–social studies
realities as a means of changing the substance and content of race in the
social studies curriculum. As Chief Joseph suggested, good words without
actions behind them are simply empty promises.
Notes
1. Before the politically correct prepare to censure my use of the term,
“American Indian,” please allow me to explain. Traditionally, most Native Peo-
ples refer to themselves by their tribal affiliation, (e.g., Cayuga, Mesquaki, Musko-
gee, Hopi, Arikara, Pomo, Makah). Some Native People, having grown up during
or after the initiation of “politically correct” phrasing may, indeed, also use “Na-
tive American” when speaking either about themselves or about Native People
more broadly. There are also many Native People who may use “Indian” or
“American Indian,” instead. My personal choice in using “American Indian” goes
to the treaties. Many treaties use the tribal affiliation and/or the identity “Indi-
ans.” Treaty rights are often in jeopardy, as much now as when they were first bro-
ken. Consequently, there is some risk that were Native People to give up the
usage of “American Indians” and/or “Indians” altogether, those who do not wish
to honor treaty rights, could cite the disuse of the terms to support their cause.
The purpose here is not to debate this, nor to speak for all, when I personally
choose to use the term “American Indian/s.”
I was raised before political correctness existed. And, as a Choctaw/
Cherokee woman, my Elders did not hesitate to use Indian or American In-
dian when speaking more broadly. To honor the treaties and to honor my El-
ders, I use the terms here, along with the capitalization of Native People, and
Native Nations as proper nouns.
2. In November 2003, I was invited to be part of the opening panel session
for the College and University Faculty Assembly (CUFA) for the National Coun-
cil of the Social Studies. The distinguished panelists of color (Drs. James Banks,
Valerie Pang, and Gloria Contreras) and myself were asked to address the “Color
of Social Studies.” For my own talk, I shared with my Native students that I would
be making a presentation to social studies professors, and what would they want
these professors, who develop social studies curricula, write social studies text-
books, and prepare future teachers, to know? They were enthusiastic in sharing,
and what unfolded was merely one week’s worth of daily lived experiences. I gave
154 Frances V. Rains
the students my rough draft of the speech and asked for their critical feedback,
especially in how they were represented. I refined the talk based on their feed-
back, and then I presented the talk to the class before I presented it at CUFA. In
this way, the students knew exactly what I would be sharing to others. So, it is with
their permission and consent that their lived experiences are presented here.
3. Since the tribe is quite small, everyone knows everyone. Unlike the stu-
dents in my class who wanted the public to know about them/their points of
view, this young woman was not in my class. Therefore, it is important that the
identity of this young woman be protected. A pseudonym is used rather than her
real name as the APA style recommends.
4. There are large, old, black-and-white photographs of such trees, lining
the walls of many commercial establishments and restaurants all along the
Olympic Peninsula, including fast-food establishments like McDonald’s. Often
the images of white loggers, proudly standing on these ancient wonders, as they
lay on their side, freshly cut. There is no look on their faces that indicate the in-
credible destruction to the habitat that was being created. Most of the logs in
those photographs were so huge that tall men standing in front of the cut side of
the log were dwarfed. It was not uncommon for such logs, when lying on their
side, to measure between ten and sixteen feet high. The tragedy to the delicate
balance of rain forest ecosystem was lost upon such loggers, whose cutting force
would not end until all the trees were gone. It is hard to look at such photos.
They make my heart heavy with sadness.
The only remaining stand of old growth rain forest is in the protected
Olympic National Park. Although it is true that trees across the peninsula have
been replanted, often by the paper industry, it is, more often than not, without
the biodiversity that had an incredibly unique ecosystem. Huge areas of clear-cut
remain with smaller stumps, where a second and third loggers sweep has taken
place. Some Elders say that the changes in the weather patterns and rain fall over
the last two centuries is a consequence of cutting down the only ancient stand of
rain forest in the United States.
5. This data was presented at the American Educational Research Associa-
tion in April 2003. I made the draft of the group interview, and then shared
copies of it with them in class. It is with their permission and consent that I share
this interview here.
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CHAPTER 8
MARXISM AND CRITICAL
MULTICULTURAL SOCIAL STUDIES
In this chapter, we ask you to consider not only the relevance and utility of
Marxist analysis and critique in this day and age, but also how these might
fit into and connect with revolutionary approaches to teaching and learn-
ing that situate themselves within struggles for social justice and equity, like
critical pedagogy. We first map out a brief history of social studies instruc-
tion in the United States, and then to provide an alternative—a counter
narrative, a counter-hegemonic pedagogy—that draws more on Marxist
and critical pedagogical approaches to teaching and learning; namely Crit-
ical Multicultural Social Studies (CMSS). Finally, we argue for the explo-
ration— and potential fusing—of a Marxist pedagogy and CMSS.1
157
158 Curry Malott and Marc Pruyn
recent article, McLaren (2002) argues “these days it is far from fashion-
able to be a radical educator. To identify your politics as Marxist is to
invite derision and ridicule from many quarters, including some on the
left” (p. 36).
Supporting their Marxist analysis, McLaren and Farahmandpur
(2001) look to the objective conditions of today’s global reality, such as
the fact that the income of “the 225 richest people [in the world is]
roughly equal to the annual income of the poorest 47% of the world’s
population” (p. 345). They argue that Marxism, rather than being irrel-
evant, is perhaps more important now than ever. Citing Parenti’s (2001)
work, McLaren notes how the fall of Soviet communism has eliminated
socialist competition, allowing U.S. corporations to wage class war on the
people of the world more ruthlessly than ever before. The result is major
reductions in social spending, such as on education, and more people
being forced to sell their labor-power for more hours in today’s U.S. ser-
vice economy in order to survive. For example, between 1973 and 1994
the income of the richest 5% of the U.S. population increased 5%,
whereas the income of the poorest 5% decreased by almost 2%, resulting
in the top 5% receiving 46.9% of income and the bottom 5% receiving
4.2% (Kloby, 1999, p. 37).
However, Allman, et al. (2002), promoting today’s Marxist rejuvena-
tion, argue that analyses that focus exclusively on describing the conse-
quences of capitalism, such as social inequalities, can only take us so far.
What is more, a focus on the consequences of capital run the risk of blur-
ring the fact that social class is not a natural and inevitable category, but
a contested social relationship based on the commodification and ap-
propriation of human labor in the abstracted form of surplus-value.
What is needed, the authors contend, is not just a description of the ram-
pant injustices inherent in capitalist society, but a dialectical under-
standing of capitalism, which takes us to its heart: that is, to the use and
exchange value of commodities.
Marx begins volume 1 of Capital (1967) with a discussion of com-
modities, because “the wealth of those societies in which the capitalist
mode of production prevails, presents itself as ‘an immense accumula-
tion of commodities’” (p. 35). For products of human labor such as food
or human labor itself to become commodities, they must first have a
“use-value”; that is, they must be of some use in terms of maintaining or
reproducing humanity. Because most of what humans need to survive,
such as clothing, food, and shelter, requires human labor to produce
them, human labor itself has “use-value”—and is in fact the source of all
value (Marx, 1967). Use-values, such as food, become “exchange-values”
when they are exchanged for another product, such as medicine. Prod-
ucts become commodities when they are made for others and trans-
Marxism and Critical Multicultural Social Studies 159
larger share of the value they create through their labor-power. The non-
dialectical way “the lads” in Willis’ (1977) study working-class youth un-
derstood capitalism and their status as workers is also a consequence of
capitalism. The role of revolutionary education is therefore to assist
students to better understand how capitalism works through a multitude
of pedagogical practices, such as “problem posing” (see Freire, 1970).
These practices are intended to enhance the liberatory tendencies
among those relegated to the working class through critically reflecting
on one’s own experiences and assumptions about self, the “other” and
the world. McLaren’s, (2000) work on “revolutionary pedagogy” and All-
man’s (2001) work on “revolutionary education,” for example, offer a
framework to understand the role the working class plays in reproducing
itself through education. That is, Allman, McLaren, and Rikowski (2002)
argue that the tension that exists between teachers and students (see
Willis, 1977, for example) is representative of how capitalists divide and
conquer the working class. Because the work of teachers, reproducing fu-
ture labor-power through socializing their students into the capitalist sys-
tem of production, is necessary labor for the creation of surplus-value,
Allman, McLaren, and Rikowski (2002) consider teachers to be part of
the working class. To redress this dilemma, they argue that teachers need
to better understand their own role in reproducing the working class as
their own labor-power is increasingly commodified (i.e., used to produce
value for others) as education is privatized, which is central to the
process of globalization (Rikowski, 2002).
Similarly, Marxist social studies educator Rich Gibson (2000), de-
scribing what he considers to be the role of a radical educator, argues
that workers such as teachers earning $45,000 per year (on average, and
for example) are not capitalists, and are thus part of the working class.
What is more, like Allman, McLaren, and Rikowski (2002), Gibson
(2000) argues that educators need to learn to ask important questions
such as “where [does] value come from, and [what are] the social rela-
tions that rise from struggles over value?” (p. 14). These questions, Gib-
son contends, will facilitate the much-needed development, in students
and teachers, of a critical understanding of capitalist society with the po-
tential of challenging its internal relations.
Marxist educator Glenn Rikowski argues that McLaren’s recent work
on revolutionary pedagogy and its connection to teacher education has
“momentous implications and consequences for the anti-capitalist strug-
gles ahead” (McLaren, & Rikowski, 2001, p. 17) because it demands that
teachers have a well-developed understanding of the “inner dynamics” of
capitalism in order to understand what is happening to their students
and themselves. McLaren argues that education is central to the perpet-
uation of capitalism, because teachers play a pivotal role in either devel-
Marxism and Critical Multicultural Social Studies 161
just from the past, which is so common in the social studies) and mo-
ments of oppression within the community; having students link with
that, and then become involved in actually transforming society through
exploring those instances of oppression.
The government—at the federal, state, local, and school district
levels—is often placed (or places itself) as the omniscient arbiter of
“truth” (content) and sanctifier of acceptable pedagogical processes.
Thus, certain content is allowed. For example, Thomas Jefferson was
swell and helped form our republic; and this republic was founded on
principles that many have tried to emulate over the past 230 years. And
other content is not allowed. For example, Thomas Jefferson was a
pedophile and rapist. Certain methodologies, in terms of pedagogy, are
allowed. For example, No Child Left Behind (NCLB) puts an emphasis
on memorization, pretesting, testing, and post-testing (high-stakes,
norm-referenced testing, no less, see Ross, 2004). Yet other pedagogical
methodologies and ideologies are not. For example, connective, con-
structivist, humanist, or transformative approaches to the teaching and
learning enterprise are most usually a no-no and unacceptable. From a
CMSS perspective, it is vital that teachers and students use their own au-
thority and freedom in the classroom, as Hinchey (2004) reminds us, to
find their own truths, instead of having them dictated from on high.
Due to content and pedagogy filters like NCLB, teachers are often
given no other option than to use the white-washed, racist, sexist, classist,
homophobic, and just plain inaccurate, textbooks (Apple, 1990; Loewen,
1995). So given this, what might a pedagogue inspired by Critical Multi-
cultural Social Studies do, beyond sitting on a district textbook commit-
tee in order to vote for one of three poor choices predetermined by big
publishing? How might we work with an inaccurate, closed, hegemo-
nized, damaging curricular content, if there is no way to avoid doing so?
Well, we use critical pedagogy. We critique. And we turn to our students
and our school communities.
As Peter McLaren said during a lecture at UCLA during the 1990s, “A
critical pedagogue can use any text, any content as a starting point. For
the text or content is not the key, the critique is.” And he was right. Both
critical pedagogy and CMSS espouse a form of radical/revolutionary cri-
tique, a way for students (students/teachers) and teachers (teachers/
students) (Freire, 1970) to analyze and deconstruct dominant hegemonic
forms within a framework of social justice and equity, then to collectively
construct a counter-hegemony that creates a critical/revolutionary space
where students, teachers, and communities can continue to work and
challenge hegemony and oppressive forms and relations. And can we find
ways to deconstruct and critique these white-washed, milk toast, bias-
laden, pabulum-filled textbooks? And then reconstruct counter-hege-
Marxism and Critical Multicultural Social Studies 165
monic ways of reading our “words and worlds” (Freire & Macedo, 1985)
and lived realities? Such that we align ourselves locally, regionally,
nationally, and internationally, with struggles for social justice? Sure
we can; even in the age of NCLB, Baby Bush, perpetual war, and happy-
go-lucky, world-stomping, neo-liberalism. As a matter of fact, we are
obliged to. We need more mosh pits, more Burning Man, more hip-
hop, more raves, more Seattles, more sk8ers, and more of what the punk
band Ajogún called, “that ol’ moon stompin’”; now that’s what we call
counter-hegemony.
The other way to deal with biased and largely meaningless textbooks
is to turn directly to students, their parents, and the community for con-
tent. For the various state “benchmarks” and “standards” that teachers
are often now “required” to follow under NCLB—as they slog through
the official textbooks of their district—are vague and general have also
gone through a similar dumbing-down, lowest common denominator,
white/male/wealthy/straight-ifying process. And the end result is that
they are not only often biased and ill-conceived, but also so wildly vague
and general that it does not take a rocket scientist to be able to creatively
fit more progressive content under them; content that comes from stu-
dents, parents, and school communities—more authentic, connected,
meaningful content that can be a starting point from which to begin dis-
cussions of oppression, hegemony, social justice, and counter-hegemony.
The proposal is simple. Turn hegemonic textbooks against them-
selves and valorize and incorporate the cultural capital, histories, and wis-
dom of our students into our curricula (all the while being creative and
subversive with the wishy-washy state standards toward the more impor-
tant goal of making schooling, and our students’ years in school, mean-
ingful and empowering). In this way, we can offer students multiple
perspectives via our curricular content. We can use these standardized
textbooks if strategically necessary; if only to demonstrate to students how
easy it is to pass off one perspective as the only perspective. We can guide
our students in learning research skills using the Web (www.gnn.org or
www.rougeforum.org), alternative media (Basta ya!, Democracy Now,
Pacifica), brick-and-mortar and virtual libraries and universities, and men-
tor them in the fine (and learnable) art of critique. They are already
halfway there. Our students are wonderful bullshit detectors. They know
what rings “true” and what stinks. They can spot a racist or homophobic
teacher at a hundred yards—and we need to be honest with ourselves,
there are racists and homophobes among our ranks. And they know we
are probably in Iraq for the oil. Ask ’em. And they are fine nascent intel-
lectuals in development. They, and their communities, are up to this task.
CMSS pedagogues need just to facilitate and encourage this work and
these kinds of classroom communities for social justice.
166 Curry Malott and Marc Pruyn
Based on the discussion above of how today’s Marxist educators are talk-
ing about the “essence” of capitalism—that is, the social production of
value and commodities—we call for a Marxist CMSS to go beyond de-
scribing the consequences of capitalism and join the struggle against the
labor-capital relation. In other words, we must also go beyond arguing for
a simple redistribution of wealth and the freeing of work from the con-
straints of capital, and instead work against the commodification of
human labor-power. That is, a Marxist CMSS must work to completely de-
stroy the capital relation (Hudis, 2000). In elaborating this, let’s return
for a moment to the description of today’s social studies instruction; the
reality of what is. We believe this would be a useful place of departure for
the outlining of a possible Marxist Critical Multicultural Social Studies.
In a discussion of today’s social studies, Marc (Pruyn, 2003) cites the
official “primary purpose” of the social studies offered by the National
Council for the Social Studies (NCSS): “To help . . . young people de-
velop the ability to make informed and reasoned decisions for the public
good as citizens of a culturally diverse, democratic society in an interde-
pendent world.” Marc argues that “many in the criticalist tradition of so-
cial education . . . would consider [this definition] traditional, even
‘conservative’” (p. 5, from original manuscript). As a criticalist who draws
inspiration and analytical tools from both Marxism and anarchism,
Pruyn (2003) makes the case that the social studies should not just de-
velop “informed citizens” but should also foster the development of “cul-
tural/political social activists who are encouraged to manifest their
beliefs with the ultimate goal of fighting oppression and furthering social
justice” (p. 5, ibid).
E. Wayne Ross (2000; chapter 17 in this volume) describes the social
studies taught today throughout the U.S. public school system as domi-
nated by “Traditional Social Studies Instruction” (TSSI), which he argues
is based on such characteristics as memorizing disconnected facts,
preparing students for standardized tests, treating learners as passive,
normalizing white, middle-class culture and putting teachers at the cen-
ter of learning. As a result, Ross argues that because of conservative
teacher education programs, the institutional pressures schools place on
teachers, and the traditional curriculum, the social studies tend to teach
a spectator-oriented conception of democracy; one that helps to create
“spectator citizens” unequipped to participate actively in a democracy
(p. 55). This description of TSSI does not even foster the development of
“informed citizens” as put forth by the NCSS.
Similarly, in Getting Beyond the Facts (2001), Joe Kincheloe argues that
the current body of research on the social studies suggests that classroom
Marxism and Critical Multicultural Social Studies 167
Notes
1. Elements of this chapter appeared in Curry Malott’s “Karl Marx, Radical
Education and Peter McLaren: Implications for the Social Studies” in Teaching
Peter McLaren: Paths of Dissent, edited by Marc Pruyn and Luis Charles-Huerta
(Peter Lang, 2005) and will appear in “Critical Multicultural Social Studies: A Di-
alogue from the Borderlands” by The Borderlands Collective for Social Justice in
Race, Ethnicity and Education: Principles of Multicultural Education, edited by Valerie
Ooka Pang (Praeger, 2006).
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170 Curry Malott and Marc Pruyn
Introduction
In addressing the topic of gender and social education for the third edi-
tion of this book, I may encounter some readers who wonder: “What’s the
problem? Women have made enormous gains over the last forty years in
American society.” And, indeed, this is true: Using just one measure of
women’s educational achievement, college attendance, as an example of
women’s progress, we find that between 1970 and 2001, “women went
from being the minority to the majority of the U.S. undergraduate popu-
lation, increasing their representation from 42 percent to 56 percent of
undergraduates” (Freeman, 2004, as quoted in Peter & Horn, 2005, p. 1).
Women’s gains in higher education have been so dramatic that the
American Council on Education (King, 2000) has raised the question:
“Are male students at a disadvantage?” Although experts consistently
note the discrepancies in educational experiences between men and
women of different races and classes, the overall picture in the post-
secondary arena remains one of female achievement.
Looking at K–12 education yields similar results. In language arts,
for example, girls start school at the same level if not ahead of boys (Free-
man, 2004). Girls are less likely to be held back a grade, drop out, con-
front serious problems, or engage in risk-taking behaviors in and out of
the classroom. Girls do better with reading and writing, and only slightly
less well in math and science (Freeman, 2004). Girls participate at a
higher rate in extracurricular activities, except for athletics, and voice
higher educational aspirations than boys (Freeman, 2004).
171
172 Margaret Smith Crocco
Such data may suggest that educational issues related to gender affect
more male than female students these days. In fact, over the last decade a
cottage industry has arisen concerning the “problems with boys” (Pollack,
1998; Garbarino, 1999; Kindlon, 1999; Hoff-Sommers, 2000). At the post-
secondary level, critics of affirmative action and Title IX have asserted that
universities should address the problems with men’s enrollment and re-
tention rather than devoting more resources to women in higher educa-
tion (Glazer-Raymo, forthcoming). Undoubtedly, problems of gender can
be found with both female as well as male performance in education. For
example, women continue to lag well behind men in earning doctorates in
computer science, physics, and engineering. Outside the United States, a
host of other issues arise related to women’s education.
In this chapter, I explore several ways of thinking about the contem-
porary relevance of gender to social education. Gender is the social con-
struction of differences that are rooted in sex but are elaborated by
cultures into systems of identity and relationship concerning what it
means to be a man or a woman. As such, these systems are historically as
well as culturally contingent. Social education refers to the ways in which
societies have constructed, lived out, and transmitted their understand-
ings of social relations and the implications of these understandings for
citizenship education (Crocco, 1999, p. 1). One critical form of social ed-
ucation in the modern United States has been social studies.
In considering this topic, I draw on Carol Lee Bacchi’s (1999)
“What’s the Problem?” approach in order to focus on the challenges so-
cial educators face regarding gender in an era of globalization, a topic
about which I have written previously (Crocco, 2005; Crocco & Cramer,
2004; Patel & Crocco, 2003; Asher & Crocco, 2001; Crocco, 2000). I also
draw upon Joseph Schwab’s (1978) four “commonplaces of schooling”—
subject matter, learners, teachers, and milieu or context—to provide a
framework for considering gender and social education systematically
but they do not contradict the notion that social education occurs out-
side schools. These commonplaces also reinforce the notion that gender
and social education intersect in a variety of ways. Focusing on globaliza-
tion should not be read as implying that all issues of gender have been
resolved in the United States but simply places the United States within
the context of a rapidly changing world, one in which national bound-
aries are not what they used to be.
Despite women’s gains over the last several decades, the place of gen-
der within social education continues to reflect the stubborn persistence
of patriarchy worldwide. Gerda Lerner (1986) defines patriarchy as the
subordination of women, an intellectual and social system in which
women collude with men in socializing new generations to the view that
such subordination is “natural” and, in some societies, seen as theologi-
Gender and Social Education 173
cally ordained. In parts of the world where women’s rights have gained
ground, patriarchy has become an increasingly subtle set of attitudes and
practices; nevertheless, it persists. In the United States, for example, pa-
triarchy remains highly salient to legal reasoning (e.g., rape and domes-
tic violence laws, law enforcement, and judicial reasoning, Buzawa &
Buzawa, 2002) as well as economic issues such as taxation and social se-
curity (see Kessler-Harris, 2001), among other topics. As I shall argue,
teaching forms of “systemic seeing” as part of social education is critical
to the movement to overcome patriarchal norms in a society.
Worldwide, feminist scholars seek to increase “gender equity,” one
definition of which is: “to be fair and just toward both men and women,
to show preference to neither, and concern for both” (Klein, Ortman, &
Friedman, 2002). Some would go further, stipulating that gender equity
is not just a matter of opening doors but of ensuring that all students are
capable of walking through those doors. Likewise, many would argue
that making the structures in which students learn more hospitable to
both women and men is also necessary. Achieving these goals involves ac-
tive interventions requiring political, social, psychological, and institu-
tional change (Koch, Irby, Brown, 2002, p. 186–187). Doing this in a
manner that includes the world’s women is a formidable task, to be sure.
On a regional level, girls and boys have achieved equal access to primary
education, except in some parts of Africa, in particular sub-Saharan Africa,
and Central Asia, where access to education facilities is still inadequate.
Progress has been made in secondary education, where equal access of
girls and boys has been achieved in some countries. Enrollment of girls
and women in tertiary education has increased considerably. In many
countries, private schools have also played an important complementary
role in improving access to education at all levels. Yet . . . approximately
100 million children, including at least 60 million girls, are without access
to primary schooling and more than two thirds of the world’s 960 million
illiterate adults are women. The high rate of illiteracy prevailing in most
developing countries, in particular in sub-Saharan Africa and some Arab
States, remains a severe impediment to the advancement of women and
to development.
Discrimination in girls’ access to education persists in many areas,
owing to customary attitudes, early marriages and pregnancies, inade-
quate and gender-biased teaching and educational materials, sexual ha-
rassment and lack of adequate and physically and otherwise accessible
schooling facilities. Girls undertake heavy domestic work at a very early
age. Girls and young women are expected to manage both educational
and domestic responsibilities, often resulting in poor scholastic perfor-
mance and early drop-out from the educational system. This has long-
178 Margaret Smith Crocco
may be called upon, as Karp was, to help female students navigate the dif-
ferent expectations for U.S. women from their traditional cultures. As El-
nour and Bashir-Ali suggest, respect for traditional cultures is necessary,
but what do teachers do when these norms violate a teacher’s commit-
ment to equity in education for both genders? Gaining such cross-cultural
competence, especially regarding women, poses challenges for social ed-
ucators when so little research and writing addresses this issue.
In a report on “Concepts and Trends in Global Education,” Sutton
and Hutton (2001 note:
One might assume that the research regarding the dynamics of teach-
ers and teacher education in the field of global education would be ex-
tensive. After all, both are absolutely critical to the development of a
relevant and sustained global perspective in education. Surprisingly,
however, this is not the case. The research is limited and the re-
searchers are few. (2001, p. 3)
multicultural and global educators are being bridged (Sutton & Hutton,
2001, p. 2), the cleavages between feminism and multiculturalism and fem-
inism and global education remain intact.
In sum, the fundamental problem of gender and social education is
its invisibility, particularly that of women of the world. Using any of
Schwab’s vantage points leads to virtually the same conclusion: Women
of the world have only barely been conceived as problems in terms of
learners and teachers, milieu, and subject matter. When and if women of
the world make an appearance as a problem for social education, it has
been in terms of their management within American classrooms and as
subject matter dealing with the oppressive traditions of cultures outside
the United States. Only rarely have women from other countries been
seen as offering a model from which American women might learn.
Feminist post-colonial writers (e.g., Anzaldua, 1987; Trinh, 1989;
Mohanty, 1988; Mohanty, Russo, & Torres 1991, Alexander & Mohanty,
1997, Bulbeck 1998, Narayan & Harding, 2000) have commented on the
stereotyping and essentializing found in Western portrayals of the
world’s women, which typically have reduced women, especially from the
“third world” to stock characters defined exclusively by their oppression.
Global educator Merry Merryfield (2001) suggests in “Moving the cen-
ter of global education: From imperial world views that divide the world
to double consciousness, contrapuntal pedagogy, hybridity, and cross-
cultural competence” that social educators must pay heed to the post-
colonial legacy of Edward Said (1978, 1993) and Gayatri Chakravorti
Spivak (1987) among others. Merryfield and Subedi (2001) suggest the
need for “decolonizing the mind for world-centered global education.”
In fact, Alexander and Mohanty (1997) claim that:
describes are particularly pronounced in, for example and perhaps sur-
prisingly, Spain and Japan. Among developing nations, women in South
Asia and the Arab states have few opportunities to participate in paid
labor; when they are employed they face widespread wage discrimination
in a restricted range of jobs and generally must contend with the burden
of the “double day,” or long hours of housework after a long day’s work.
Two-thirds of the world’s women are illiterate; they lag significantly be-
hind men in access to higher education. Women remain unable to vote
in certain countries such as Saudi Arabia and make up only a small pro-
portion of the world’s governmental representatives (Nussbaum, 1999,
p. 31). All these are real problems.
Female genital mutilation, arranged marriages, and the veil often
serve as tropes for all there is to know about women outside the United
States. In short, the world’s women get defined by their limitations and
oppressions rather than by their strengths and capabilities (Asher &
Crocco, 2001; Asher, 2003). In preparing the special edition on “Women
of the World” for Social Education, Merry Merryfield and I solicited arti-
cles dealing with resistance to women’s subordination (Rierson & Duty,
2003; Pantziara, 2003; Patel & Crocco, 2003) as well as those addressing
the ways in which women, their lives, and literature could be portrayed
positively in the social studies curriculum (Doughty, 2003; Libresco &
Wolfe, 2003; Reese, 2003; Tyson & Hinton-Johnson, 2003).
In the United States, many women may assume that problems re-
lated to patriarchy have largely been resolved. To take just one counter-
example, however, violence continues to plague many women and girls
in the United States as well as around the world (see Amnesty Interna-
tional’s highlighting of these problems on their Web site http://web.
amnesty.org/actforwomen/index-eng). Violence is also centrally impli-
cated in the problems American boys experience with schooling, tied up,
as they often are, with dysfunctional images of manhood and power in
American society (see, for example, the articles on boys in the Jossey-Bass
Reader on Gender in Education, 2002).
Social educators may also assume that the incidence of problems re-
lated to violence in schools is low, despite the work of Nan Stein (1994)
and Judith Brandenburg (1997) who have written about the pervasive
problem of sexual harassment in American education: Fully 80% of
school age girls report that they have experienced some form of sexual
harassment (Sadker, 2000, p. 81). The educational ramifications of such
problems run deep: Jenny Horsman (2000) has documented the connec-
tions between illiteracy and violence among women in Canada in Too
Scared to Learn. If the commitment to citizenship education is to have any
meaning at all, social educators must take responsibility for ensuring that
all students—male and female—feel safe in their classrooms and schools.
Gender and Social Education 183
If women were seen as the equals of men, and if their histories and
futures were viewed as equally important, then both male and female
teachers would teach women’s history and include women’s issues in
their economics, civics, sociology, anthropology, psychology, and geog-
raphy courses. Social educators would research and frequently publish
works in the top social studies journals investigating gender from a
Gender and Social Education 187
small a group as social educators can accomplish more than it may think if
it only has the will to foment change at the local level. Even within the
micro-political milieu of one school, one department, or one teacher, the
possibilities for change are abundant. Indeed, Patricia Mann (1994)
reminds us that the analysis of micro-political activity proves that “there are
serious political implications in many of the everyday decisions individuals
make with respect to how they will act in a given circumstance, even when
those decisions are not accompanied by traditional forms of political con-
sciousness” (p. 31). To teach or not to teach about the world’s women? It
makes a difference what each social educator decides.
Just how important are the world’s women? The World Economic Forum
(Lopez-Claros & Zahidi, 2005) puts the answer in these words, “Coun-
tries that do not capitalize on one half of their societies are misallocating
their human resources and undermining their competitive potential . . .
Even in light of heightened international awareness, it is a disturbing re-
ality that no country has yet managed to eliminate the gender gap.” The
report places the United States at number 17 out of 58 nations in terms
of its equalizing of the gender gap. The authors go on to comment that,
“The past three decades have witnessed a steadily increasing awareness of
the need to empower women through measures to increase social, eco-
nomic, and political equity, and broader access to human rights, im-
provements in nutrition, and basic education.” Social education should
need no stronger mandate than this challenge.
What is the cost of women’s inequality? Writing in Foreign Affairs, Iso-
bel Coleman (2004) defines the stakes in the most traditional terms, as
one might expect given her audience:
Over the past decade, significant research has demonstrated what many
have known for a long time: women are critical to economic develop-
ment, active civil society, and good governance, especially in developing
countries. Focusing on women is often the best way to reduce birth
rates and child mortality; improve health, nutrition, and education;
stem the spread of HIV/AIDS; build robust and self-sustaining commu-
nity organizations; and encourage grassroots democracy . . . Much like
human rights a generation ago, women’s rights were long considered
too controversial for mainstream foreign policy . . . Now, however, they
increasingly see women’s empowerment as critical to their mandates.”
(p. 80)
Isn’t it time that social educators pay more attention to gender and
social education, especially from a global perspective? Numerous “prob-
lems” need attention—from silences of subject matter, student and
Gender and Social Education 189
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PART III
THE SOCIAL STUDIES
CURRICULUM IN PRACTICE
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CHAPTER 10
STRUGGLING FOR GOOD ASSESSMENT IN
SOCIAL STUDIES EDUCATION
197
198 Sandra Mathison and Kristi Fragnoli
ricula. Early in the century, E. L. Thorndike set the path for the devel-
opment of tests and measurement as a quantitative one: “Whatever exists
at all exists in some amount. To know it involves knowing its quantity as
well as its quality” (Thorndike, 1918, p. l6).
In education, the technology of testing and measurement has been
seen as the physics of the field. Our envy has given way, however, to skep-
ticism and uncertainty about whether the exactitude of psychometrics
gets us where we want to go in education.
Our skepticism has also been fueled by recent interest in ideas such
as teacher empowerment, local control of education, and teachers as re-
searchers. Often tests and measurement are created outside schools—
edicts to be adopted by teachers and schools—ideas out of synch with the
contemporary views of teaching as a profession. The use of testing and
test results by those outside of the classroom and school has also in-
creased our skepticism as it becomes apparent there are sociopolitical
purposes for student testing, purposes sometimes run counter to the in-
terests of public education (Mathison & Ross, 2004).
As we indicated in chapter 4, the current climate of standards-based
reforms and the use of high-stakes standardized tests as the enforcing
mechanism often work against the use of performance-based and authen-
tic assessments. Recognizing the severe constraints that state-mandated
testing programs place on schools and teachers, it is nonetheless impera-
tive to enjoin schools and teachers to strive for assessments of student
achievement and progress that are meaningful; that is, that provide infor-
mation most useful for instructional decision-making at the local level.
In this chapter we will talk of assessment—tests and measurement
are a means to this end, but by no means the only means. Measurement
surely implies that we can know with precision how much of something
there is. For example, when we bake a cake we measure two cups of flour
and there is very little room for interpretation or misinterpretation—two
cups is two cups. When we measure something, we assign it a numeric
value based on some preestablished standard. In education we might say
this student is reading at a grade level of 5.6, a statement that automati-
cally raises, rather than quells, questions. First, what is meant by reading?
Is it low-level comprehension requiring only recall? Is it critical analysis?
Second, what do I know if a student has a reading level of grade 5.6?
What is a grade? How do I understand a number that is really an inter-
polation not an actual measurement? And, so on.
While we are confident of the precision of many measurements (tem-
perature, distance, volume), the standards used in education (grade point
average, grade equivalent score, normal curve equivalent) leave substantial
room for interpretation and misinterpretation. So we therefore look be-
yond measurement to determine the quality or value of something.
200 Sandra Mathison and Kristi Fragnoli
Assessment also implies a relationship between the assessor and the as-
sessed. An “assessment” is where one “sits with” the learner. It is some-
thing we do “with” and “for” the student, not something we do “to” the
student. Such a “sitting with” suggests that the assessor has an obligation
to go the extra mile in determining what the student knows and can do.
The assessor must be more tactful, respectful, and responsive than the
giver of tests. . . . (Wiggins, 1993a)
The idea that any testing technique, be it a new test design or a national
test or system, can reform our schools and restore our nation’s compet-
itiveness is the height of technological arrogance and conceals many of
the negative possibilities of such a move under the guise of a seemingly
neat technological fix. Further, by casting the debate over how to ad-
dress the problems in our schools in terms of a testing solution we di-
vert attention from systemic problems related to delivery systems such
as instructional delivery, quality of textbooks, length of the school day
and year, teacher training and working conditions, and gross inequali-
ties in in-school and extra-school resources. (Madaus 1993, p. 23)
what students should know and be able to do. And, as indicated previ-
ously, good performance assessment tasks become instructional activi-
ties, and therefore require reconsideration of content and pedagogy.
Alleman and Brophy (1999) characterize assessment in social studies
as an uninventive, tradition-bound enterprise, one where teacher-made
tests predominated over norm-referenced tests and that tests that came
with curriculum materials; that objective tests were used more commonly
than essay tests (especially with low-ability students); and that items con-
centrated on knowledge and skills, with only slight consideration given
to affective out-comes. (p. 334). They suggest that typical social studies
assessments fail to “measure student attainment of major social studies
understandings, appreciations, life applications, and higher order think-
ing” (p. 335). This state of affairs is contrasted with the guidelines
adopted by the NCSS Advisory Committee on Testing and Evaluation,
which recommends that evaluation focus on “curriculum goals and ob-
jectives; be used to improve curriculum and instruction; measure both
content and process; be chosen for instructional, diagnostic, and pre-
scriptive purposes; and reflect a high degree of fairness to all people and
groups” (Alleman & Brophy, 1999, p. 335). Good performance assess-
ment in social studies is about more than just involving students in
“doing”; it must be assessment that focuses on students doing something
within a larger curricular framework and oriented toward valued goals.
Performance assessments for their own sake provide little of value.
An example, Object-Based Inquiry, illustrates how national and state
frameworks guide curricular goals, which inform instruction, and translate
into classroom practice and assessment. The idea of object-based inquiry is
that we learn when we touch history, and learning activities constructed
around historical objects create the context within which it is natural to
use performance assessment. The following chart reflects the relationship
among goals, learning activities, and performance assessment.
In the 1990s, two prominent social studies journals devoted issues to
“authentic” assessment in social studies (Baker, 1993; Nickell, 1999).
These special issues include cautions regarding traditional multiple
choice tests (often used inappropriately), examples of performance as-
sessments used by social studies educators, confessional tales from teach-
ers struggling to incorporate more authentic assessment into their
teaching, and useful illustrations of performance assessments.
In a special issue of the Social Science Record (Baker, 1993), after an in-
troduction by Grant Wiggins, several accounts are given of assessment
practices in New York schools. Jones (1993) gives examples of assessment
items for elementary grades and Browne and Shultz (1993) give exam-
ples for secondary grades.
Table 10.2 Object-Based Inquiry, an Illustration of Performance
Assessment Linked to Curricular Goals
Goal(s) Activity Assessment
Example 1
Example 2
The principal has asked the class to be responsible for one of the
school’s showcases for the year. S/he has requested that they be
changed monthly and reflect various periods in American history. Each
student will become part of a task force that will effectively design and
create displays for a showcase. (Wiggins, 1993, p. 7)
content (for example, the Civil War or the American Revolution must be
taught at such and such a time) and, although they are organized around
ten thematic areas, the focus is on well-articulated skills and knowledge.
The examples provided also illustrate how the standards can be trans-
lated in classroom practices.
What the standards do not provide is a vision of the curriculum plan-
ning that will facilitate the move toward more authentic learning tasks
and assessments. Scholars and practitioners alike need to think carefully
about how this development work will be done.
The danger of mapping an existing curriculum (for example, the
history of Native Americans in fourth grade) onto something like the
NCSS standards without thinking simultaneously about the more foun-
dational goals conveyed by the standards will be an exercise in compli-
ance, not reformation. It is complex to think about generic skills and
knowledge and disciplinary content simultaneously. Mostly, disciplinary
knowledge has won out. Although content knowledge is important (and
there is nothing wrong with fourth graders learning about Native Amer-
icans) it provides little direction in the formulation of learning and as-
sessment tasks. This is much more related to the more basic and generic
ideas outlined in the Standards.
Conclusion
This chapter began with a description of five dilemmas that must be faced
in making decisions about assessment in schools, and so it concludes. These
dilemmas must be seriously addressed in order for assessment of, for, and
as learning to occur. These dilemmas need not be simple dichotomies and
in some instances a compromise resolution may be possible. For example,
it is possible to develop performance assessment at the state level and not
succumb to the lowest common denominator when large numbers of chil-
dren are being assessed. On the other hand, there has been little progress
made in reformulating assessment in schools to meet the many information
needs. Nor has there been much progress in reallocating resources (in-
cluding time and money) to meet assessment needs, with ever increasingly
more money going to support assessment demanded by governments, with
the quintessential example being the testing burden created by the No
Child Left Behind Act. But there is a growing sophistication among parents,
teachers, and school administrators that assessment is not simply about
technique, it is also about politics and must therefore be considered in
more complex and multifaceted ways—in the classroom, at the school
board meeting, among parent and community activists, and in legislatures.
These dilemmas provide a means for remembering the history of assess-
ment in schools, but also for anticipating its future.
Struggling for Good Assessment in Social Studies Education 213
Note
1. These organizations include the National Center for History in
the Schools UCLA; the Center for Civic Education; the National Coun-
cil for Geographic Education (in cooperation with the Association of
American Geographers, the National Geographic Society, and the Amer-
ican Geographical Society); the National Council on Economic Educa-
tion; and the National Council for the Social Studies.
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214 Sandra Mathison and Kristi Fragnoli
Walter Werner
217
218 Walter Werner
leries, newspapers, and textbooks use for informing readers what the
image is about, what they should notice, and why.
All three—the image with its content and design; the viewer who
comes to the image with expectations and prior knowledge; and the mi-
lieu in which the viewer encounters the image—are inseparably linked
in the question of meaning. Pictures do not communicate by them-
selves, but only speak in relation to someone within a context. Meanings
therefore become contingent, multiple, and shift over time. Never is
there just one intrinsic meaning “hidden” in a picture, waiting to be cor-
rectly uncovered through the authority of expertise. There will always
be a surplus of meanings, something more that can be said across time,
place, and viewers.
This concept of meaning allows for many ways of reading portrai-
ture. The approach recommended in this chapter starts from the fact
that every portrait—whether the medium be a painting, drawing, sculp-
ture, or photograph—invokes at least three people: the subject (the
sitter) represented within the picture, the author (the painter or pho-
tographer) who created the image, and the viewer who interprets the
image. These three provide foci for interpreting pictures of people. A
starting place is with the subject (Who is this person? What inferences
about her life and status does this picture allow?), before moving to the
author and/or viewers. These latter two foci are not used every time a
portrait is studied, but only when warranted by student interest and rel-
evant to the ongoing discussion. The goal is to have students come to
recognize that pictures can be interpreted by looking within the frame
(interpreting the subject), behind the frame (interpreting the author),
and in front of the frame (interpreting the viewer). The following dis-
cussion demonstrates that within each of these foci there are overlap-
ping ways to read portraits; the eleven ways are meant to be illustrative
rather than exhaustive.
Interpreting Subjects
An obvious feature of any portrait is its representation of someone or
some group. Whether the representation is of an anonymous skate-
boarder or the first president, the information can be interpreted vari-
ously. The following readings—literal, biographical, empathetic, iconic,
and psychological—are examples. Within any reading, though, infer-
ences need to be supported with evidence from the image itself (literal
readings are the least inferential, whereas psychological readings are
highly connotative).
220 Walter Werner
Literal Readings
When confronted with a portrait, our eyes automatically focus on the
subject’s physical features and the setting. We are curious about what this
person uniquely “looked like” at that moment and period of life, and so
scan the image for prominent facial and body features such as eyes, nose,
mouth, expression, pose, relative age, and for anything unusual about
dress, use of props, and characteristics of the setting. According to
Walker and Chaplin (1997, p. 117), “A viewer’s knowledge of a picture is
built up from a succession of glances which, in part, are determined by
the image’s forms. So, while no single linear order of reading is imposed
upon the viewer, the presence of dominant features will attract the eye.”
It is the assumed mimetic correspondence between picture and person
that initially attracts our interest. Here is evidence of physical character-
istics that we then use for judging the face as, for example, lively and at-
tractive. So this is what Henry Ford looked like! Yet his face’s literal
aspects—its physiognomy—are only general markers that point to gen-
der, age, and perhaps ethnicity. Physical characteristics suggest very little
beyond this. Understandably, though, we want to know considerably
more about the person than is provided through these surface features
and their denotative meaning, and this desire leads to more connotative
interpretations.
Biographical Readings
Viewers are rarely satisfied with a subject’s physicality without also know-
ing something about that person’s circumstances. Biographical readings
attempt to situate people within events and stories. Inferences are drawn
about cultural identities and practices, and broader ways of life in which
they participated. Styles of hair, jewelry, and clothing, uses of gesture and
props, and the presence of objects and room furnishings, for example,
provide clues to social class, occupational roles, club memberships,
group status, relative wealth, living conditions, and historical time period
(Burke, 2001).
Portraits have been used for centuries to mark important events in
the lives of individuals. Wealthy families commissioned paintings to
memorialize graduations, births, deaths, weddings, reunions, emigra-
tions, and other turning points, thereby investing their life histories with
a sense of progress, group affiliation and story; such pictures reminded
them of where they came from, who they belonged to, and how they fitted
into a family lineage or community hierarchy. And the spread of hand-
held cameras by the end of the nineteenth century profoundly changed
the ways in which ordinary people came to understand themselves and
Reading Pictures of People 221
their life histories. Photos could now be taken across a lifespan, allowing
for changes to be highlighted and compared, and for pictures of relatives
and friends from distant pasts and places to be made “present” in one lo-
cation (an album or picture shelf). Never before in human history was
this possible. Prior to mass-produced cameras, only the affluent afforded
painted portraits, whereas by the turn of the twentieth century most every-
one in Western societies could access an ongoing stream of photos of
themselves and of people, objects, and places important to them. Today
visual images and personal identities have become inseparable. The pic-
ture tells us what we looked like, the important places we have been, the
things we valued, who our friends and family were, and what events and
experiences were significant; it both documents and shapes how we un-
derstand our lives.
Although biographical readings rely on the visual evidence from
which to infer the circumstances of subjects’ lives—their social loca-
tions and what was important to them—this information is limited
because it presents only a moment without a before or an after. An in-
stant is frozen in time and space apart from history or storyline. At a
flea market I bought an album filled with studio images of people
from Victorian Scotland, whose names, dates, places of residence, cir-
cumstances, and reasons for having their photos taken are now lost;
the pictures point to brief moments in their lives, and I am left won-
dering what motivations and stories stand behind these moments, and
why over time these pictures ceased to matter even as memories. All
that remains is a reified moment giving witness to someone’s presence
in a studio.
Empathetic Readings
Through empathetic readings viewers imaginatively enter into the sub-
ject’s experience or beliefs. A picture on the newspaper’s front page—
depicting grief on the face of an Olympian runner seconds after
stumbling at the starting block—elicits an immediate response even be-
fore we know her name, the country she represents, or the length of the
race. We enter alongside the runner’s experience, and imagine how it
feels to have years of training, sacrifice, and anticipation lost to the
capriciousness of chance and accident. This emotional empathy draws
on our own experiences of disappointment and loss, and so places us in
solidarity with her.
When there is little common experiential ground for emotional em-
pathy, cognitive empathy encourages viewers to grasp the subject’s frame
of reference nonjudgmentally: what beliefs motivate runners to spend
222 Walter Werner
years training for an event that lasts a few seconds? What is the required
commitment and discipline? This is an attempt to understand the event
from the imagined point of view of the runner’s personal values and be-
liefs, her nationalistic and cultural assumptions, and the competitive
practices of elite sport that define her identity.
Sometimes portraits do not provide enough information, or their
subjects’ circumstances are so removed from viewers, that empathy be-
comes difficult without access to additional background knowledge. Stu-
dents find such images boring unless a teacher intervenes with brief
anecdotes that connect the subject to a broader issue, significant deci-
sion, or challenging event.
Iconic Readings
Many portraits—such as Dorothea Lange’s “migrant mother” (1936), Joe
Rosenthal’s marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima (1945), or Stuart
Franklin’s student facing down a line of tanks in Tiananmen Square
(1989)—became famous over time by taking on broad cultural meanings
that transcend the individuals. Iconic images point to something much
bigger than themselves. They become symbols for ideas, values, events,
places, time periods, or institutions. It is now hard to recall the civil rights
movement without conjuring up the newspaper picture of Rosa Parks
riding the bus in 1955 or of Martin Luther King Jr. delivering his Wash-
ington speech in 1963; the pictures stand in for a significant historical
moment bigger than a day in the lives of two people.
Reading iconic images requires relevant background knowledge
about the pictures themselves and their changing meanings and uses
over time. Without knowledge, viewers cannot appreciate how Alberto
Korda’s portrait of Che Guevara (1960) became a worldwide icon for rev-
olutionary bravado, nor recognize how this famous image has been vari-
ously referenced and played with in popular culture; at the denotative
level of meaning, the picture only shows a resolute looking young man
who has not had a haircut and shave in some time. Similarly, because of
limited life experiences students may not recognize John Glenn’s smiling
face as connotating regained national pride at a low point in the Cold
War, or Mother Teresa’s small figure representing compassionate action
on behalf of the world’s poorest citizens. Classroom discussion is neces-
sary to animate iconic images.
Mundane portraits without iconic status are often used iconically in
newspapers and social studies textbooks. For example, when a newspa-
per publishes a picture of a nameless Palestinian youth taking aim with a
slingshot at an Israeli tank in the city of Bethlehem, iconic meaning is
Reading Pictures of People 223
being drawn from the imagery of David and Goliath. President Nixon’s
image in a magazine story may be used as visual shorthand for the com-
plex successes and failures of his administration, or for the idea of obses-
sive power. And textbooks commonly portray ordinary people as
representing broad social groupings (e.g., a farm worker stands for the
plight of migrant labor during the depression), significant events or time
periods (e.g., a soldier in a muddy trench puts a human face to the First
World War), geographical regions (e.g., an Inuit youth on her snowmo-
bile signifies the Arctic), or economic sectors (e.g., roughnecks working
on an oil rig stand in for the energy sector). For naïve readers, though,
visual shorthand can contribute unwittingly to visual stereotypes of
groups, time periods, regions, or industries.
Psychological Readings
Portraits rarely allow for the kinds of inferences that most interest view-
ers: they want to know not just what this person looked like, but some-
thing about his or her personality. However, a subject’s visual demeanor
implies very little about personality characteristics. Inferences about
inner states and character remain little more than a guessing game. We
do not know what a gesture, facial expression, or particular pose may
have referenced about feelings and intentions at that moment. A portrait
offers even less insight into whether this was a kind, generous, and like-
able individual. An awkward smile and tentative glance do not suggest
whether the subject was shy or gregarious, aloof or charismatic, trustwor-
thy or evasive. Unlike face-to-face encounters, we cannot rely on multiple
cues across time and context to validate a nuanced view of what the per-
son was like. The picture’s surface remains mute unless we previously
knew the subject and something about the conditions under which the
image was made. Psychological readings always need to be questioned.3
Through the centuries, however, subjects have used to advantage the
viewer’s desire to interpret psychologically. Royal courts, political elites,
and wealthy clients commissioned artists to produce “authorized” images
in which pose, dress, and expression were contrived for desired effects.
These portraits were rhetorical, presenting subjects in ways they wished to
be seen physically and psychologically. Agnolo Brunzino, a popular
painter hired by the powerful Medici in sixteenth-century Florence, was
considered “a brilliant professional, a reliable showman who could be
counted on to idealize even the least attractive client’s features, and then
take decorative liberties with everything else: clothing, jewelry, furniture.
He made the bourgeois rich look royal and smart. It was a winning game”
for himself and his subjects (Cotter, 2004, ¶ 14). From the 1850s onward,
224 Walter Werner
Interpreting Authors
Another obvious feature of portraits is that they are created by individu-
als living in particular times and places. Behind any picture stands a
process of authorship that can be read. For example, an image speaks to
the artist’s technical and aesthetic expertise with a brush or camera
(technical readings), her editorial judgments about the subject (editor-
ial readings), the cultural attitudes and stereotypes within which she
worked (indexical readings), and the ways in which she chose to position
viewers (spectatorship readings). These readings expand the types of in-
formation that can be sought from portraits, enriching how we under-
stand them, and making their interpretations more interesting.
Technical Readings
Viewers make authorship visible when focusing on how design features are
used for particular effects, such as infusing the image with mood and sug-
gesting judgments about its subject. It is interesting to ask how authorized
painters and photographers of Abraham Lincoln created representations
of this remarkable president to convey selective feelings and interpreta-
tions. They chose content for the foreground and background, and ma-
nipulated angle of vision (e.g., above, below, side, frontal), field of view
(e.g., narrow, wide), distance from the subject (e.g., close, far), sharpness
of focus, depth of field, conditions of lighting, and the extent of cropping
and framing. Careful attention was given to composition—the use of
Reading Pictures of People 225
Editorial Readings
Portraits are similar to newspaper editorials because both convey judg-
ments about their subjects (e.g., portraying them as wise, silly, friendly,
sexy, pompous, ordinary, trustworthy, exotic, competent). A tourist’s
camera can be used to represent people in respectful and sympathetic
ways or in ways that emphasize their “otherness”—as exotic, underdevel-
oped, dangerous, cute; whatever the normative representation, it reveals
some of the photographer’s subjectivities. These include the mix of val-
ues, allegiances, sensitivities, desires, likes, expectations, and commit-
ments that allow the artist to form a unique image. Editorial readings
infer these judgments and their underlying subjectivities.
Each brush stroke embodies the painter’s choices and judgments.
When one of America’s outstanding portraitists was asked what he did
for a living, Gilbert Stuart (1755–1828) cleverly replied “I get my bread
by making faces,” thereby acknowledging responsibility for “the look” of
his subjects (Glueck, 2004, ¶ 2); he literally “made faces” for so many of
the country’s famous, such as Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James
Madison, James Monroe, and others. He also painted over one hundred
likenesses of George Washington, including the face on the dollar bill.
What made him an outstanding painter was his ability to reproduce facial
features and infuse them with subtle expression that reflected his editor-
ial judgments. He made the faces come alive in ways that he wanted.
Similarly, photographs are “objective” only in the narrow sense that
incoming light is recorded chemically or digitally; everything else is influ-
enced by the photographer’s eye/I, whether adjusting the lens, manipulat-
ing the conditions for light, framing the composition, or processing the
desired look of the finished product. During the first two decades of the
twentieth century Lewis Hine (1874–1940) used his immense photographic
skill to empathetically document men, women, and children working
226 Walter Werner
Indexical Readings
Representations not only carry the imprint of their makers’ values and
interests (and so can be read editorially), but also reflect (or resist) the
broader social attitudes, stereotypes, and conventions within which these
portraitists worked and found acceptance. Indexical readings draw in-
ferences about the ways in which portraits reference or point to (index)
these social attitudes and stereotypes. As Howells (2003, p. 70) notes,
“Cultural texts inevitably betray the values of the cultures in which they
were created.”
An example of perpetuating social stereotypes can be found in pic-
tures of aboriginal peoples created during the nineteenth and first half
of the twentieth centuries. These images reflected cultural attitudes
about the past and the future of aboriginal societies. In keeping with a
widely held belief that aboriginals were vanishing from North America,
painters such as George Catlin in the 1830s and Paul Kane in the 1840s
traveled west in search of romantic portraits to satisfy the tastes of wealthy
urban markets. Their idealized paintings, although purporting to be
ethnographically accurate, portrayed dramatic subjects from an imagi-
nary past unspoiled by the influences of the dominant society. This cul-
tural stereotype of the “noble primitive” further grew in popularity as
photography came into widespread use after the 1850s. Tourists, survey-
ors, government and church officials, anthropologists, and commercial
photographers poured nostalgia for an imaginary past through the
lenses of their cameras. One of the most ambitious and best known was
Edward Curtis (1868–1952), a Seattle photographer, who published
thousands of pictures from 1900 to 1930 in which native peoples were
posed in ways that he imagined to be traditional (2004). “To do so, he
frequently used wigs, costumes, and other props, dressing up his subjects
to look more as he believed they used to look. He carefully removed all
evidence of modernity and photographed his subjects in romantic poses
and performing traditional activities. In his view, contemporary Native
Reading Pictures of People 227
people were contaminated by their contact with white culture. His pho-
tographs took the viewer back before contact and provided a nostalgic
glimpse of ‘real’ Indians, as Curtis imagined them to be” (Francis, 1996,
p. 3). He was not the first. In prior decades, studios dressed-up and
dressed-down aboriginals to match desired cultural stereotypes and es-
sentialized visual identities. Such pictures can now be read for insight
into broader attitudes circulating within the dominant society.
Social attitudes are also reflected in the conventions of portraiture at
given times and places. What counts as a portrait—how it represents its
subject—depends not only on norms shared by an artist’s professional ref-
erence group, but also by expectations and tastes circulating in the mar-
ketplace.4 In the past, formal conventions governed how subjects were
dressed, what was held in their hands, what symbols were included in the
picture, and how groups were posed—who sat, stood, or knelt, who had a
hand on whose shoulder, and who was foregrounded or backgrounded.
These conventions spoke to status inequalities around class, gender, and
race that were taken for granted; in Renaissance art, for instance, female
plumpness was a signifier of wealthy women of leisure. Another example
of social class conventions can be seen in Gilbert Stuart’s full-length paint-
ing of Washington in 1796, depicting him in a rather theatrical “pose of a
Roman orator, right arm outstretched, a sheathed sword in his other
hand, surrounded by allegorical symbols of his office” (Glueck, 2004,
¶ 12). This and similar poses—such as sitting on a rearing horse—fitted
contemporary European conventions for celebrating powerful political
leaders, whereas the use of such poses today would be viewed as satire
more befitting political cartoons. In order to signify wealth, power, and
occupational knowledge, formal portraits from the nineteenth century
sometimes depicted their subjects reading or holding books, or seated or
standing in front of bookcases; if the names of books were visible, the sit-
ter was being linked with particular ideas. And as mass photography made
portraits more affordable by the end of the nineteenth century, studios
provided working-class sitters with a choice of props, clothes, and trite
backgrounds to portray themselves as socially and economically better off
than they were.
The concept of ideology can be a useful tool when interpreting images
indexically. It refers to those ideas—assumptions, values, expectations, ar-
guments—about the social world that are intended to serve, or have the ef-
fect of serving, the interests of particular institutions or groups. Such ideas
are self-serving because they legitimize or hide the benefits (social, eco-
nomic, political, or other benefits) that a group enjoys, often at the expense
of other groups. For centuries racist organizations, for example, argued
that “others” were in some way inferior (e.g., morally weak, culturally
228 Walter Werner
Spectatorship Readings
To use a clumsy but descriptive metaphor, a picture “positions” viewers
by offering them standpoints from which to look. This positioning de-
fines the spectator in three ways. The first is the offering of a physical
standpoint somewhere in front of the image from which to see the sub-
ject. Viewers are placed close up or further back, below or above, off to
one side or directly in front of the subject; they are also given a field of
view that focuses narrowly on the subject’s face or more broadly on a full-
length view of the person within some social space, such as a sitting-room
or a bedroom.
In turn, this physical placement offers viewers a psychological stand-
point. A close-up position directly facing the subject turns observers into
friendly and accepted insiders. Placement off to the side or at some dis-
tance allows viewers to watch in a detached way as outsiders. And when the
subject is framed by a window or a partially closed door, viewers are placed
in a powerful, and sometimes uncomfortable position of hidden voyeurs.
This psychological positioning is further enhanced through the subject’s
mode of address—how he or she acknowledges or ignores the viewer’s pres-
ence, the type of look conveyed, and the ways in which the body is dis-
played for the benefit of observers. The mode of address encourages a
particular subject/viewer relationship. Magazine ads for perfumes, for ex-
ample, illustrate a range of modes of address. The young models may ad-
dress viewers through open smiles and friendly demeanors, stares of cool
detachment or distain, poses suggesting invitation or aggressive hostility.
Each gaze and pose implies an attitude toward viewers, infuses an
emotional tone to the encounter, and offers them a way to look (e.g.,
subservience, equality, envy, desire). One of the features that makes
Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” intriguing is the ambiguous mode of ad-
dress that places observers in an uncertain relationship with her; although
she looks at us, we don’t know whether she is bemused, pleased, or slightly
disgusted by our presence and interest. Her direct look and slight smile
leave us uncomfortable.
A third standpoint is that of the assumed ideal viewer. Artists produce
for an imagined audience who occupies particular social locations (of
age, gender, social class, occupation, or ethnicity) and holds certain be-
liefs and values (e.g., religious, ideological, patriotic). The medieval genre
Reading Pictures of People 229
Interpreting Viewers
Because every portrait implies a third person, it is useful at times to turn
the questions back on the viewer: What are the effects of this image on us
and others, and why? What do our interpretations of this picture reveal
about our assumptions, values, expectations, and social locations?
Reading of Effects
Power is neither a “force” nor a “potential” residing in the content or de-
sign of an image, nor is it something that an image “owns.” It is mani-
fested when there are effects on what viewers come to feel, believe, or do.
These effects vary depending on the contexts in which a picture is seen,
and what viewers bring to it. For illustrative purposes, let’s briefly look at
four effects.
Portraits can have persuasion effects. Most pictures encountered
every day are little more than adverts designed to inspire brand loyalty or
convince us of ideas or actions. Many rhetorical devices are used. A com-
mon one, for example, links images of nameless models or well-known
230 Walter Werner
figures (e.g., singers, entertainers, athletes) with products for sale. Even
charity and international development agencies use celebrity faces, often
combined with up-close and personal images of desperate children or
adults in need of food and medical care, to elicit viewer sympathies and
raise funds. In these cases, power is manifested to the extent that the
rhetorical device has a persuasive effect.
Closely related to persuasion are surveillance and enforcement ef-
fects (Foucault, 1999). Within some religious traditions from Eastern Eu-
rope, icons of saints and angels are hung in homes and churches as
reminders to the faithful that their daily lives are watched. Viewers are af-
fected to the extent that they believe that the icons invoke a presence
that sees and hears them. Similar forms of passive surveillance were prac-
ticed by European empires of the past two centuries. One simple strategy
was to place the monarch’s picture and statue everywhere throughout
the realm. Millions of Queen Victoria’s regal portraits, for instance,
watched from the walls of classrooms, offices, stores, hotels, barbershops,
and even homes, symbolically reminding loyal subjects of the empire’s
unifying gaze. And during the past century, totalitarian regimes splashed
their leaders’ portraits on billboards, prominent street corners, and pub-
lic buildings to signify that the state has eyes everywhere. Saddam Hus-
sein’s ubiquitous portraits and statutes conveyed more than egomania;
Iraqis were reminded daily that their leader’s political party looked on
and after the nation’s citizens. To the extent that these strategies were
successful in encouraging loyalty and compliance, power is manifested.
Portraits can also have the effect of reinforcing notions of social nor-
mality and abnormality. Respected scientists, working with theories of
race and eugenics from the 1870s through the 1940s, used the camera to
demonstrate that “undesirables,” such as criminals, the insane, the poor,
and members of some ethnic groups, displayed facial features and body
types different from the “desirable” norm (Henning, 2000; Sturken &
Cartwright, 2001); some of these negative stereotypes continue to circu-
late in popular culture through comic books, video games, and commer-
cial ads. During early decades of the twentieth century, painters such as
Frederic Remington and Charles Russell popularized stereotypes of “the
Old West,” using “the look” of Native Americans who lived on the Plains
as the ideal visual type for all aboriginals. Their romanticized stereotypes
essentialized facial expressions, hair styles, and clothing from a small
number of cultural groups in ways that disregarded diversity across hun-
dreds of aboriginal nations; when popularized through the media, these
images had the effect of over-generalizing, thereby creating a narrow vi-
sual normality (Walker, 1992). The power of these images lay in their re-
inforcing of stereotypes with wide reach on the public imagination.
Reading Pictures of People 231
on the basis of deeply held assumptions about whose lives should be cele-
brated, and in turn, the use of these portraits as official knowledge per-
petuates those assumptions, as well as the larger social, economic, or
political status quo of which those assumptions are a part. Inclusion of
someone’s picture does more than honor an individual’s achievement;
unless flagged for readers, the picture may be read as legitimizing the cul-
tural attitudes, economic arrangements, political practices, or social roles
that this individual represents. Selection often gives prominence to a nar-
row range of idealized political and military leaders, and relatively little to
labor and community movements, international organizations (e.g., UN
agencies, World Court), and major nongovernment organizations that
are making a difference to international development, health, human
rights, and environment. A cumulative effect of seeing the same slice of
famous and idealized “men” across textbooks and grade levels teaches stu-
dents about what forms of leadership “really” count. An alternative is to vi-
sually display a broader range of leadership values and styles, so that in
addition to celebrating the faces of the overly famous, students are en-
couraged to raise questions about our society’s assumptions about lead-
ership and fame.
Reflexive Readings
Controversy over a recently discovered painting of William Shakespeare
prompted a critic to wryly note that “How we read the portrait says as
much about us as the painting itself” (Sheppard, 2002, p. D9). We are au-
tobiographically present in our interpretations, and this is why the ques-
tion needs to be turned back: What do our interpretations imply about
ourselves? This question reminds us that a picture’s meaning arises
through the irreducible triad of image/viewer/context. Viewers use
imagination and memory when making an image speak within some con-
text; what is seen is shaped by what we bring to the encounter, including
our expectations, assumptions, commitments, and background knowl-
edge, all of which are rooted in our prior experiences and social loca-
tions (such as nationality, gender, ethnicity, social class, occupation,
memberships in religious and political groups).
An example of how interpretations can reflect nationality arose
around media pictures of American and British soldiers in Iraq. Newspa-
pers around the world used many of the same images, but with different
meanings. A view of tired twenty-year-old soldier, his face painted and a
cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, was reprinted in over
one hundred U.S. papers as the iconic “face of Falluja” (Falluja was a city
in which the fighting was intense). One writer referred to him as “a brave
Reading Pictures of People 233
American marine . . . , his face bloodied and soiled by combat, his ex-
pression resolute” (Rich, 2004, ¶ 13), whereas a commentator from an-
other country suggested a very different meaning: the picture did
deserve “to be elevated to the status of icon—not of the war in Iraq, but
of the new era of supercharged American impunity” (Klein, 2004, ¶ 6).
Other foreign media nominated a picture of another marine taken a few
days earlier to be Falluja’s poster boy; he was shown executing a
wounded prisoner in a mosque. The emotions and meanings mobilized
by these portraits depended on the national ideologies brought to them,
and on one’s sense of political allegiance and cultural identity.
Our reaction to an image—whether we are bothered by it, for exam-
ple, or see it as merely mundane—may speak to some of the “of course”
assumptions we deeply take for granted about our society’s status quo.
Such beliefs appear to be so “natural” and “obvious” that they are hard to
recognize; they seem to be nothing more than common sense about how
the social world does and should work. As Michael Apple (1990) ob-
served, such ideas and values reside in the bottom rather than the top of
our heads, and pervade the very ways in which we see. Examples may in-
clude beliefs that the practices of political, legal, economic, and educa-
tional institutions are fair for all; that individuals are rewarded according
to ability, honesty and hard work; that political leaders work in the inter-
ests of all citizens; that foreign policies and actions are motivated by
democratic, altruistic, and humanitarian values; that our media provide
objective news compared to foreign media, etc. Because these beliefs are
cast in general terms, they appear to have an “obvious” truth value, and
so can continue to frame and constrain how we see and think about ap-
parent inequalities and contradictions within the status quo. Images that
portray contrary examples are viewed as exceptions or as biased, thereby
protecting the status quo from questions.
Summary
I am not suggesting that portraiture become another addition to the over-
crowded curriculum, or that it replace established units of study. Ongoing
infusion is a more effective way. Textbooks come loaded with portraits—in
the form of drawings, paintings, cartoons, and photos—designed to convey
information about a range of people, and are usually presented as if their
meanings are self-evident. Whenever appropriate, a question can be raised
about how students make sense of these and other images. Such teachable
moments may last a few seconds or stretch into longer discussions.
Interpretations can be enriched through selection from one or
more of the eleven overlapping approaches suggested in this chapter
234 Walter Werner
and summarized below. The first five focus on the subject within the
frame of a portrait, whereas the next four focus on the author behind
the frame, and the last two on the viewer in front of the frame. Use
three or four of the approaches for interpreting the following untitled
photos taken by an anonymous amateur photographer within imperial
India during the last part of the nineteenth century; they portray the
ruling British elite, and local merchants and artisans.
All interpretations are not equally compelling when judged against cri-
teria such as plausibility (does the interpretation fit the evidence?) and
insightfulness (does the interpretation deepen our understanding of the
image?). Because richness of meaning depends on what interpreters
bring to a picture, an impoverished knowledge leads to shallow interpre-
tations. But the give-and-take of classroom discussion is ideally suited for
clarifying and expanding interpretations, and for adjudicating amongst
competing views, where the goal is to enhance thoughtfulness by having
students explain their views in the light of supporting evidence.
Notes
1. The word “idea” has its etymological roots in a Greek verb meaning
“to see” (Jenks, 1995, p. 1).
2. Although the literature of visual culture draws its language and modes of
analyses from diverse social theories, the focus is on the social practices of pro-
ducing, circulating, using, and interpreting images, whether displayed on bodies,
in homes, in public places, through screens and video games, or within galleries
and museums. As Bryson, Holly and Moxey (1994, p. xvi) state, visual culture’s in-
terest lies in understanding “the work performed by the image in the life of a cul-
ture.” Commercial ads, for example, do much more than persuade viewers of
new products; they are also used to create, reinforce, or challenge collective
meanings regarding group identities, national issues, historical events, and alter-
native futures. They have a hand in framing the very ways we see and make sense
of ourselves and others. For an introduction to visual culture, see Evans and Hall
(1999), Manguel (2000), Wells (2000, 2003), Mirzoeff (2002), Howells (2003).
3. Research shows that voters sometimes initially judge the potential “com-
petence” (intelligence, leadership, and maturity) of politicians from facial fea-
tures (Galloway, 2005). A competent-looking face is inferred from a strong jaw,
large nose, and long cheekbones, whereas a more immature face has a high fore-
head, soft chin and round eyes. Warren Harding, for example, displayed features
that made him look mature and “presidential,” even though his demonstrated
leadership strengths did not match his looks.
238 Walter Werner
References
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pretations. London: Wesleyan University Press.
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0,3858,5071979-103677,00.html
Reading Pictures of People 239
“A WORLD OF KNOWLEDGE”
SOCIAL EDUCATION AND DIGITAL TECHNOLOGY
Brenda Trofanenko
Recently many social educators have felt a subtle yet powerful disciplinary
pressure to become more technologically advanced. In an era of increas-
ing availability of digital source materials directed to educators by public
institutions, this has meant an emphasis on using these sources in social
studies classrooms. Increased availability of source materials—including
the online materials available from museum, archives, and libraries—has
also prompted changes to how we use these materials in our classrooms.
For social educators, the most disturbing outcome of this situation has
been the increasing presence of self-contained lesson plans and units on
institutional Web sites and the move by some public institutions to em-
brace and advance what they consider to be their educational role in pub-
lic education. As a result, social educators are struggling to understand
the role digital initiatives have in transferring texts and images to virtual
sites in the electronic medium. Not the least among these challenges are
the ways we consider how we utilize such texts and how particular knowl-
edge is developed and advanced through digital technologies.
As Hayden White (1987) observed, “[n]ew methods authorize new
ways of looking at texts, of inscribing texts within discourses . . . and of
linking both texts and discourses to their contexts” (p. 4). Writing when
current digital technologies were still in their infancy, White may not
have foreseen the ways in which rapidly evolving technologies of the last
five years have influenced education generally and social education
specifically. In a remarkable short space of time, digital technology has
allowed for the preservation of texts and images with a high degree of
precision and with extraordinary accessibility. Although projects such as
241
242 Brenda Trofanenko
tion of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) and the National Endow-
ment for the Humanities (NEH), have worked to establish programs that
utilize the full capacity of cultural heritage institutions through digital
projects. Recent scholarship within the library and information science
disciplines has also driven the museum community to engage with digi-
tal technologies.3 Digitization has become a defining characteristic for
these institutions. The results are standard: the institution identifies
source objects and documents from within their collections and pro-
duces a particular collection of digital sources through which the public
educational community ought to be able to learn. Many institutions have
committed to extending their educational imperative into the digital
medium through institutional Web sites, which have served as a portal
through which educators can access particular portions of collections
within a particular educational outcome as defined by the institution
(see Korteweg & Trofanenko, 2002). What results is frequently a parallel
section evident on the Web site that explicitly lays out how the general
public needs to use the sources in order to learn.
In considering this changing landscape of cultural heritage institu-
tions—from the material presence in the institution to the digital plat-
form available on the Web—scholars in various fields including library
and information sciences, art history, and history have recently begun to
attend to the implications of digital sources as a system for learning that,
far from simply being available on the Web environment, holds with it a
great deal of social and educational import. This line of research asks the
academic community to consider the educational impact the digital
move holds for the museum, library, and archival disciplines—from
being solely the repositories of material sources to producing digital
source materials as something more than solely elemental textual ob-
jects. The effect of digital technology on source documents can, in this
case, be examined against recent critical discussions about the use of
source documents generally and the necessity for contextualizing source
documents particularly.
A World of Knowledge
The larger project of digitalization within the museum community rep-
resents one of the most comprehensive undertakings within the last ten
years, with no sign of slowing down. This near universalization of digital
technologies raises numerous theoretical and practical concerns both
within and beyond the institutions. Within the institutional community,
much of the current focus is particular to standardization within the
larger community—through such efforts as the Open Archives Initiative
(www.openarchives.org) and the Online Computer Library Center
246 Brenda Trofanenko
develop a platform of educational use. Rather, how to use the site often
lies beyond the knowledge and expertise of teacher and their ability to
transfer the content into a learning experience for the student.
Focusing on teacher involvement (or lack thereof) diverts attention
away from the impact student use of technology might have on learning.
It is not enough to focus solely on the engagement of students in using
source materials in yet another form in an effort to advance an under-
standing of the disciplinary use of such sources.4 Do we need another
study that suggests that by using digital source documents, for example,
students become adept in the disciplinary techniques and rather than
simply knowing the facts of history and historical narratives, that the stu-
dents engage in ‘doing history’ (Yeager & Wilson, 1997; Bohan & Davis,
1998)? This recent scholarship continues to advance the power the indi-
vidual source holds to learning rather than engaging in questioning the
educational benefits such sources would provide. Certainly, there are
pedagogical reservations about digital sources and their educational ben-
efits and we need to place these reservations in a wider context (see, for
example, Berson et al., 2001; Mason et al., 2001). But our interest in dig-
ital technology seems to have remained focused on learning outcomes in
utilizing online source materials, rather than on understanding the pur-
pose of the sources themselves.
Learning from the digital source rather than questioning the educa-
tional benefits such sources provide separates the learning from the
larger issues of online design and learning processes. As Deegan and
Tanner (2002) note, the meaning of digital sources depends as much on
how individual data objects are linked as on what those objects are. Cer-
tainly, meanings re-created in our classrooms will differ from original
meanings, but this is generally the case in the interpretation of the past,
which is always interpreted through our own historical moment. Given
the popularity of the idea that digital sources might advance knowledge,
it is important that we consider the nature of digital sources, and the
changes it brings to our encounters with sources (Bishop et al., 2003).
Because of our new capacity to access digital sources, it has produced a
new decorum that allows us both to look at and read through the text.
Concluding Thoughts
My aim in this chapter is to promote more critical analysis by social stud-
ies educators about digital information compiled by cultural heritage in-
stitutions, from which we can investigate understanding of student
engagement and learning. I begin by positing what social studies educa-
tors need to ask of themselves and their students in order to understand
how we can question what learning is formulated and advanced within
248 Brenda Trofanenko
and beyond digital sources. I have suggested that social educators ques-
tion the historically affirmed educational role of cultural heritage institu-
tions, to take advantage of the large-scale digitization projects occurring
within the discipline, and to work in developing and advancing with stu-
dents a critical view of the digital technologies as a space for learning.
From the perspective of critical social educators, the last ten years
can be seen as a time when there has been a productive rethinking of the
relationship between the digital technology and the social studies cur-
riculum, but the project remains unfinished. Extensive efforts have been
directed toward strengthening and fostering public access to the expan-
sive digital source materials. However, little space has been devoted to
discussing the implications of new epistemologies for classroom practice
and pedagogical theory. Digital source materials are still overwhelmingly
treated instrumentally: that is, they are considered a source that is un-
problematically made available, as a commodity that can be readily ac-
cessed for the purpose of learning. While public heritage institutions
continue to work within the institutional and professional limits posed by
the fundamental principle of museum development—that is, the un-
questioned attachment to the objects, the displays, and the knowledge to
be gained from both—they are also seeking to provide access to their
sources as part of their educational mission. But the assumption that any
digital object should be an object of knowledge is a symptom of these in-
stitutions desire to be a guarantor of authoritative meaning of, say, a past
of which it is only a remnant.
The current challenges facing social studies educators, among others,
is that of being a relevant school subject in an educational system where lit-
eracy standards remain foremost. This situation has encouraged a closer
relationship between social studies curriculum and heritage institutions via
digital technology. Currently, the prerogative of defining learning with
digital source materials resides primarily with the institutional technical
designers, and not with educators. Our role, then, is to be aware of and act
on the fact that knowledge production does not end with digitized object.
This realization, I believe, holds promise for social educators, the social
education curriculum, and the students in our classrooms.
By making of learning with digitized objects problematic and by ex-
tending the work of library and information scientists (see Digicult,
www.digicult.info, and OCLC), the social studies curriculum can be
more active and collaborative and digital learning in social studies can
move beyond the once-static digital Web site. A curriculum collaboration
among cultural heritage institutions, teachers, and students, suggests
new ways to talk about the once reiterative museum-teacher-student re-
lationship and can move us beyond the current didactic forms of digital
learning. Increased awareness of how and why to look critically at what
“A World of Knowledge” 249
between the object and the information known about the object. We can
all look at a painting, read a label, or go through a museum catalog. But
what is often missing is the necessary background information needed to
make it a learning experience. So, for example, a painting holds the
weight of its own history and that of the period in which it was painted.
But, this is not to ignore the relationship the painting holds to a student in
Urbana, Illinois, nor to a senior citizen in New York City. My point is that
to be able to utilize digital source materials, we need to shift the traditional
relationship between the digital site (and the institution) and the teacher
and student. I suggest challenging the institutions to develop a more
democratic space for learning, where everyone can become an expert and
where individuals may learn from one another.
My hope is to extend the pedagogical significance of digital source
materials and institutional sites currently advanced by cultural heritage
institutes and used as part of the social studies curriculum. Fundamen-
tal to acknowledging the pedagogical significance is also acknowledging
how a more open and active collaboration between the institution and
those interested individuals within the public realm will automatically
yield a different learning experience. We need to contextualize the dig-
ital space. And, more effectively involve curators, archivists, librarians,
educational program managers as well as scholars, teachers, and stu-
dents, in questioning the boundary between the objects and its digital
environment to allow for and provide different but appropriate ap-
proaches for various levels and domains of learning. The agenda for
change should strongly concentrate on applications utilizing digital
technologies that enhance experiences and novel ways of imparting
knowledge. It should focus on fostering learning at all levels. So, for ex-
ample, when visiting a digital exhibit it is possible to access other paint-
ings from the same artist in he same time period from the same school
from which the curator, the student, the historian could all contribute
to an open forum that contributes to generating a narrative about
provenance, and personal experience.
The learning defined through digital technologies presupposes ho-
mogenization, even as we realize the increasing diversity of teachers and
students in our classrooms. In realizing such diversity, our roles as social ed-
ucators involve empowering teachers and students and valuing their power
of critical thought toward the objectification of knowledge. Teachers can be
instrumental, for example, in collecting digital artifacts or scientific data,
and in building on and enriching shared knowledge. To embrace the par-
ticipatory nature of knowledge and to invite an active and critical engage-
ment with the world through which students can come to question the
authority of institutions through digital technologies will hopefully result in
students realizing that the dynamic nature of digital source materials. The
“A World of Knowledge” 251
Notes
1. Library of Congress’ American Memories: http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/;
British Museum’s Electronic Beowolf: http://www.bl.uk/collections/treasures/
beowulf.html; George Mason University’s Center for History and New Media’s
World History Matters: http://chnm.gmu.edu/worldhistorymatters/
2. This is not to suggest that there is a void of any research within social
studies education specific to the use of online sources. Rather, much critical and
engaging work has been done within the last five year. Of particular interest is
work by David Hicks (2002), John Lee (2002), Cheryl Mason et al. (2001).
3. It is not within the scope of this paper to outline the historical develop-
ment of digital technology within the cultural heritage community. What is sig-
nificant, however, is the role that libraries and information sciences have
assumed in developing such technologies and the broad utilization within the
museum and library disciplines. See, for example, Normore (2003), Ray (2004),
and Yakel (2004).
4. There continue to be issues and questions about access and what materi-
als are made available for the teacher and student within the social studies class-
room. I am not going to dismiss the cogent arguments made particular to access
based on issues of gender, race, and class. Rather, I wish to suggest that the pres-
ence of digital sources becomes an issue of engagement for the purposes of de-
veloping knowledge not only about what the source seeks to represent but also of
the ubiquitous place digital source materials hold in social studies education. See
Borgman’s (2000) writings particular to issues of access.
References
Assman, A. (1996). Texts, traces, trash: The changing media of cultural memory.
Representations (56), 123–134.
Becker, H. J., Ravitz, J. L., & Wong, Y. T. (1998). Internet Use by Teachers: Con-
ditions of Professional use and Teacher Directed Student Use. Teaching,
Learning and Computing: 1998 National Survey: Report #1. [Online] (Cen-
ter for Research on Information Technology and Organizations University
252 Brenda Trofanenko
Kevin Jennings
255
256 Kevin Jennings
help students “understand the world in which they live and how it came to
be,” as a gay person, I have to ask, “Where’s the rest of me?”
The fact is, there is a complete disconnect between the “real world”
for which social studies classes prepare students and the curriculum of
those classes, at least when it comes to LGBT issues. A 2002 study by the
Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network (GLSEN) found that the
most popular history textbooks in America are almost completely de-
void of LGBT-related content. A content analysis of thirteen of the
most widely used high school U.S. history textbooks found that only
four directly address gay and lesbian issues; only two provide photo-
graphic representations of gay and lesbian themes; and just two refer-
ence “Gays and Lesbians” or “Gay and Lesbian Rights” in the index or
table of contents. (None of the textbooks address bisexual or transgen-
der topics.) Overall, there was less than one page of text (0.9 of a page,
to be exact) that directly addressed LGBT issues of 12,530 total pages
of text (Hirschfeld, 2002).
The consequences of this “erasure” are clearly negative. In its 2001
National School Climate Survey, GLSEN found that 80.6% of LGBT stu-
dents reported that there were no positive portrayals of LGBT people,
history, or events in any of their classes. For the fortunate few who did
have such inclusion, they were 27% more likely to report that they felt
like they belonged in their school than those who did not (Kosciw &
Cullen, 2002). For those who think “we don’t have any gay students in
our school,” keep in mind that, in a 2004 poll of high school students,
5% self-identified as gay (Widmeyer, 2004). This percentage may even be
higher, given that many students may have been reluctant to disclose
such information to a pollster.
Although the impact of this erasure is clearest for LGBT students,
non-LGBT students are done a disservice by it as well. LGBT people are
not “strangers” to today’s high school students: 16% of high school stu-
dents report having a gay family member, 30% have a close friend who is
gay, and 48% have a gay classmate (Widmeyer, 2004). The “real world” in
which they live includes LGBT people, yet the curriculum that is suppos-
edly designed to prepare them to live in that “real world” does not even ac-
knowledge the existence of such people. No wonder so many non-LGBT
students react with fear or hostility when they encounter LGBT people, or
engage in ignorant behavior like saying “that’s so gay” to describe things
they do not like. Non-LGBT students are poorly educated as to the reality
of a world where LGBT people are an ongoing presence and hence cope
poorly with it, creating hostile school climates where four out of five LGBT
students report being routinely harassed because of their sexual orienta-
tion and/or gender identity (Kosciw, 2004), engaging in discriminatory
behavior, and perpetrating hate-motivated violence.
“Out” in the Classroom 257
Although invisibility is a curse, the current ways that LGBT issues are
included in texts (on the rare occasions that they are) are hardly a bless-
ing. The GLSEN content study of American history textbooks found that,
when LGBT themes are discussed, they never predate World War II and
are typically in relation to events like the Holocaust, the Civil Rights
Movement of the 1960s and 1970s, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, and the
Conservative Movement of the 1980s. Although some texts manage a de-
tached and unprejudiced discussion of lesbian and gay themes when ad-
dressing these topics, the overall pattern is one of omission, inaccuracy,
and bias that spans the range from inadvertent to blatant, and which can
be categorized in the following ways.
If the only portrayals of LGBT people and issues that make it past text-
book adoption boards are ones like this, I am inclined to agree with my
Mom, who used to say, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say, maybe it’s
best to say nothing at all.”
It is clear that I am an advocate for greater inclusion of LGBT themes
in the social studies classroom. But this does not mean I am ignorant of
the reservations of those who have misgivings about so doing. Some read-
ers may object as they feel we should not use “history as therapy” and
somehow twist events of the past just to boost the self-esteem of today’s
students. Others may agree that inclusion is necessary but wonder how
they can fit in one more thing, given all the topics they are expected to
cover to prepare students for AP tests or similar standardized instruments.
Some just may feel that this is totally new territory where they lack the
skills to teach effectively. To all of you I say, do not worry: including LGBT
issues can be done in an historically accurate way, within existing curricu-
lum, and can be used to teach the skills we as social studies teachers have
always been expected to teach.
258 Kevin Jennings
. . . Walt Whitman attempted to speak for all Americans. His verses glori-
fied women, sailors, pioneers, city dwellers and presidents . . . (Broussard
& Ritchie, 1999)
The text fails to mention that Whitman also glorified romantic friend-
ship between men—a prevalent theme in Leaves of Grass—and fails to ex-
plore the premodern attitudes toward homosexuality exemplified by
Whitman’s writing. Though Whitman never directly advocated same-sex
erotic love, his celebrations of “the need of comrades” and of “athletic”
and “manly friendship” are understood by contemporary historians to
constitute a kind of early homosexual manifesto. The major U.S. history
textbooks may praise Whitman’s “American spirit” and his celebration of
“freedom and democracy,” but all fall short of exploring this vision of
America captured in the Democratic Vistas section of Leaves of Grass:
Many will say it is a dream, and will not follow my inferences: but I con-
fidently expect a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid
warp through all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests of
America, threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure and sweet,
strong and life-long, carried to degrees hitherto unknown . . . (quoted
in Miller, 1995)
in a period when the only route to power for gay men was through denial
of their sexual orientation (and when extreme self-hatred was the norm
for many), can help students understand why the targeting of gays was a
central component of McCarthy’s “witch hunts.” Although it is both ap-
propriate and helpful to acknowledge the sexual orientation of LGBT
historical figures (if for no other reason than to dispel the idea that
everyone was straight until Ellen DeGeneres came out on her TV show),
it is both more effective to do so when their sexual orientation can be
used to help students better understand their life and times.
A case in point here is the treatment of World War II. Before the social
history movement took hold, the teaching of World War II focused mostly
on military history, ignoring the “home front.” Of late, however, we have
come to better understand how the upheaval that the demands of fight-
ing the war fostered in American society effected profound social change
at home. The pace of the African-American “Great Migration” from the
South to the North was accelerated by the wartime industrial expansion in
Northern cities, the need for labor to replace the men sent off to the front
brought many women into the workforce, and the expectation of full cit-
izenship among black veterans who had fought for freedom abroad but
did not have it at home fueled the postwar desegregation of the armed
forces as well as the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s. None of
us today would consider the teaching of World War II complete if it talked
about Pearl Harbor, Midway, and the Battle of the Bulge but ignored
these important changes it also wrought at home.
Not surprisingly, an event this momentous had a profound effect on
LGBT Americans as well. As documented by historian Allan Berube in
his seminal work Coming Out Under Fire, World War II helped foster a new
consciousness among LGBT people. Gay men went from feeling isolated
to finding a community in the armed forces, where they met other gay
men for the first time in many cases. Lesbians took advantage of new job
opportunities as well as participation in the armed forces to establish
their economic independence and form stronger communities as well.
Upon “mustering out” at the end of the war, many LGBT veterans chose
to remain in the port cities where they disembarked rather than return
to the small towns form where they came, fostering the growth and visi-
bility of LGBT communities in cities like Los Angeles, New York, and San
Francisco. As a result of having served their country, many LGBT veter-
ans underwent a transformation akin to that of African-American veter-
ans, feeling more entitled to just treatment when they returned home.
They formed the first LGBT organization dedicated to fighting the un-
just treatment of LGBT people by the U.S. military in New York in 1945,
and veterans played key roles in the homophile civil rights movement
that emerged in the 1950s. By incorporating this content into our por-
trayal of World War Two II and its impact on America, we both present a
fuller, more accurate historical record and help students that LGBT peo-
ple, like all Americans, find their lives affected by the significant events of
our common history.
Finally, we can use more diverse materials to teach basic skills such
as reading and interpreting primary documents. At the school where I
taught, Concord Academy in Concord, Massachusetts, we traditionally
began our U.S. history curriculum with a unit entitled “Who Fired the
First Shot at Lexington Green?” where students would have to analyze
various eyewitness accounts of the famous Revolutionary War battle and
try to figure out who actually did fire the first shot. Being fairly confi-
dent that my students in Concord, Massachusetts, had probably heard of
the battles of Lexington and Concord, I persuaded my colleagues that
the same skills could be taught by using documents concerning events
with which students were unfamiliar. We developed a new lesson in
which students read accounts of the life of the Zuni We’wha, a “two-
spirit” (i.e., a person who lived and worked as the “opposite” gender
from his/her biological sex) Native American who was sent by her peo-
ple to represent them as an ambassador to the U.S. government in
Washington in the 1880s. In reading accounts of her life, students had
to try to understand this individual, who could be so respected by her
own people even though she played a social role that is and was looked
down upon by mainstream U.S. culture. To my colleagues’ surprise, this
lesson went over much better than “Who Fired the First Shot at Lexing-
ton Green?” Confronted with such an unknown and foreign subject, stu-
dents were fascinated and engaged in animated discussions about what
the documents they had read meant and how to interpret them. Years
later, I ran into one of these students, now in his late twenties, who re-
marked, “Man, I still remember how the first thing we read in U.S. his-
tory was about that Indian dude who dressed like a woman and was an
ambassador, and it blew my mind.” I cannot be sure, but I would bet
that he remembers few other individual lessons from his junior year U.S.
history class.
References
Broussard, A. S., & Ritchie, D. A. (1999). American history: The early years to 1877.
New York: Glencoe.
Hirschfeld, S. (2003). Stonewall Jackson and the Stonewall Riots together. New York:
GLSEN. Retrieved February 23, 2005, from http://www.glsen.org/
cgi-bin/iowa/all/library/record/1773.html.
Kosciw, J. G., & Cullen, M. K. (2002). The 2001 National school climate survey: The
school-related experiences of our nation’s lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth.
New York: GLSEN.
Kosciw, J. G. (2004). The 2003 National school climate survey: The school-related expe-
riences of our nation’s lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth. New York:
GLSEN.
Miller, N. (1995). Out of the past: Gay and lesbian history from 1869 to the present. New
York: Vintage Books.
Widmeyer Communications. (2004). Gay slurs and teens, GLSEN Communications
Study: A summary of major findings. Unpublished report. New York: GLSEN.
CHAPTER 14
TEACHING SOCIAL STUDIES AS IF IT MATTERED
YOUNG CHILDREN AND MORAL DELIBERATION
265
266 Linda Farr Darling
about a porcupine that is looking for a home for the winter and finds tem-
porary refuge with a welcoming family of moles. The dilemma in the fable
arises when the moles find that their guest has taken over their quarters
and refuses to leave when asked. Most students find it easy to imagina-
tively put themselves into the story, especially as children are acutely
aware of the difficulties of learning to share possessions and space.
After listening to the fable, students are asked to answer two questions:
(1) What is the problem in the story, and (2) how would you solve it? In
order to begin constructing solutions to the problem they identify, stu-
dents are asked to individually draw a picture that shows the best ending
for the story. Most students readily understand the problem facing the
moles as well as the plight that landed the porcupine in their midst
(Smetana, Killen, & Turiel, 1991). In my own work with young children,
there has been a wide variety of initial responses (Farr Darling, 2002a).
Some children offer a simple retelling of the story and occasionally name
the characters after friends. Some children draw the “underground home”
to look like their bedrooms, and others give family names to the moles and
porcupine. A few students want to know the “real” ending of the story, and
are unwilling to respond until they are told the assignment does not call
for one right answer. When told there may be many good endings, most
children are reassured and eager to participate. If they are able, students
are also asked to write a brief line or two to accompany their pictures.
Their teacher can add captions to their illustrations or record these initial
responses on a board or chart paper. Later, these responses will make a
272 Linda Farr Darling
So, they ask him to get out and then they say, “Why don’t you . . .
why won’t you go away? You are hurting us,” and if he says, “But I don’t
have anywhere to go to” then they should be nice . . . you know? Then
they say well maybe.
Teaching Social Studies as if It Mattered 273
pluralistic society. If all people have equal moral worth, it is asked, then
how can we be justified in promoting a particular view on what’s morally
right or good or true?
This is a difficult objection to address in a brief space, but I would
like to offer the beginning of a counter-argument. I think the notion of
inescapable conflict between moral traditions may well underestimate
the amount of actual commonality between human beings. Our dis-
agreement may not go all the way down, and even if it does, we can’t
know that before we try to engage others in dialogue. It has been argued
(Taylor, 1989) that we would not even recognize moral disagreement ex-
cept against a background of shared understandings and the roots of a
common moral language. In other words, we may have more in common
than we think. Martha Nussbaum (1997) claims that all human beings
share certain spheres of experience that bind us in ways we might not
recognize at first: we all try to make sense of experience, we all want love
and acceptance, we all want a measure of security and safety, and we all
have to deal with mortality.
If this is true, then perhaps different moral traditions can strengthen
each other. Multiple perspectives on problems common to all may pro-
vide answers never imagined by some. Opening up the dialogue to di-
verse voices could, in fact, broaden our moral horizons (Burbules & Rice,
1991). Moral conversations based on mutual respect and presumption of
trust might well enrich our understandings of each other. We won’t
know unless we begin them. Elementary social studies classrooms may
well be the most appropriate places for learning how to openly and sin-
cerely listen to one another across multiple differences. Elementary so-
cial studies curriculum, especially when it includes fables and folktales
about moral dilemmas and the expression of various virtues, becomes a
rich repository of human experience that can be shared with young stu-
dents. It can show them ways to imaginatively step into someone else’s
shoes. One rationale for making this the foremost task for elementary so-
cial studies is that education that promotes moral reciprocity preserves
the vitality of the public order (Callan, 1997) and the viability of a liberal
society (Galston, 1998); another is that it will help make possible the
flourishing of individuals within that public (Blum, 1999). Both are com-
pelling reasons for teachers of young children to take up moral educa-
tion of this kind.
Conclusion
A sense of obligation, like many social virtues, is nested within particular
moral traditions, and yet seems to cross the boundaries between them to
become something more universally expressed. A young friend once
280 Linda Farr Darling
asked me where “virtues come from.” I don’t know the answer to her
question except to say virtues are part of who we are as human beings. It
is likely they have always been cornerstones of human relationships and
human communities. Talking about virtues is part of social and linguistic
practices everywhere, in ancient worlds and modern ones. We see virtues
carved on Chinese stones and Islamic tablets, and woven into Greek
myths and Norse fairy tales, Australian Dream time stories, and Indone-
sian puppet plays. They are fundamental to legal systems and founda-
tional to religious doctrines. Do they arise from a human need for
others, a desire to become part of a community? Or do they come out of
a spiritual desire to reflect godlike qualities or please one’s God? It is
hard to do more than speculate. Translated over time and place we do
recognize the expression of certain virtues across cultures and genera-
tions, even when they may take priority in one culture or epoch and be
in the shadows in another. Sympathy and compassion seem almost uni-
versally present. Perhaps sympathy, borne out of a sense of “connection
to others,” as Blum suggests, is the very first virtue (Kagan & Lamb,
1987). At a very early age, people recognize in themselves and others,
vulnerability to suffering. The recognition of shared vulnerability may
lead to empathy with others and perhaps expressions of sympathy or
compassion (Kagan, 1998).
A few years ago a Spanish network ran a commercial that I only saw
once. A toddler (seen from the back and wearing diapers) sits in front of
a television watching a newsreel of refugees fleeing a devastated land-
scape. Among the refugees is a young woman with a baby in her arms.
The baby is crying uncontrollably. The toddler who is watching reaches
up and places her own soother on the screen. That gesture may repre-
sent an early sign of human connection. It may show us the same spark of
compassion that was ignited by images of ruined lives in the South In-
dian Ocean, sympathy that became the felt obligation to relieve suffer-
ing. If it does show this, it may well mark the beginning of a child’s moral
education. I would like to think so.
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(Eds.), Mapping the moral domain: A contribution of women’s thinking to psychologi-
cal theory and education (pp. 49–86). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Kagan, J., & Lamb, S. (1987). The emergence of morality in young children. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Kagan, J. (1998). Three seductive ideas. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Kohl, H. (1995). Should we burn Babar? Essays on children’s literature and the power of
stories. New York: New Press.
Kohlberg, L. (1981). The philosophy of moral development. San Francisco: Harper &
Row.
Kohlberg, L. (1984). The psychology of moral development. San Francisco: Harper &
Row.
MacIntyre, A. (1985). The Idea of an Educated Public. In Peters and Haydon
(Eds.), Reason and value: The Richard Peters lectures (pp.15–36). London: Lon-
don University Press.
McCarthy, T. (1992). Practical discourse: On the relation of morality to politics.
In C. Calhoun (Ed.), Habermas and the public sphere (pp. 51–72). Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press.
282 Linda Farr Darling
In the United States the social studies curriculum has long been the cen-
terpiece of schools’ efforts to enculturate new generations and immi-
grants into what it means to be “American.” Addressing such goals as
preparing young people for civic competence, the social studies curricu-
lum has been designed to teach history, economics, government, and
other disciplines through the perspectives of mainstream—white middle
class—academic knowledge and cultural norms (e.g., Banks, 1995; Ross,
2000; also see chapter 3 in this volume, by Kevin D. Vinson, and chapter
7, by Jack Nelson & Valerie Ooka Pang, for discussions of how social stud-
ies curriculum privileges particular perspectives). Not until the civil
rights movement of the 1960s did the social studies curriculum begin to
include content (knowledge, experiences, points of view, etc.) of African-
Americans, Asian Americans, Latinos, Native Americans, new immi-
grants, or other groups on the margins of economic and political power
in the U.S. Slowly Americans of color are broadening the center of the
social studies curriculum as it becomes more inclusive of their knowl-
edge, experiences, ideas, values, and historical understandings. How-
ever, in the new millennium, even a multicultural American-centric
curriculum will be inadequate.
For no matter whether Americans choose to ignore or reject the re-
alities of globalization, they will increasingly be affected by the world’s
human diversity, the acceleration of inequities from economic, ecologi-
cal, and technological dependence, and the repercussions of global im-
perialism, human conflict, poverty, and injustice. If we are to educate
young Americans for effective citizenship in today’s global age, the social
283
284 Merry M. Merryfield and Binaya Subedi
unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged
strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. (DuBois, 1989, p. 3)
Since color was used to separate people in DuBois’ America, he saw black
children grow up conscious not only of their own culture learned from
family and community, but also the white culture that designated them
an inferior race, a problem to be solved. White people, because of their
race-based dominant position, did not develop double consciousness. In
the United States and other countries, the duality of perspectives based
on power and discrimination that DuBois called double consciousness
has also been used to explain the complexity of identity when race, class,
gender, and other differences have been used to separate, marginalize,
or oppress people (Gilroy, 1993; Narayan, 1988). In writing about the ef-
fects of the ultimate oppression, genocide in Hitler’s Germany, Anna
Newman (1998) describes how her father’s “double visions, a double
knowing of sorts that infiltrates every corner of his life” paralleled his
view before Auschwitz and his experiences afterward (p. 430). Other
terms are similar in their identification of the multiple perspectives that
people develop to deal with prejudice and oppression.
The qualitative differences are profound between a double con-
sciousness that develops as a survival skill because one is marginalized or
abused within one’s own society, and a perspective consciousness that de-
velops to understand the “other” as an academic exercise in cross-cultural
awareness. Global educators have seen the need to understand the per-
sonal contexts in which students position themselves to view their world
(Merryfield, 1998). When students have developed a dual consciousness
because of growing up African-American or Latino in a racist community,
they enter a social studies classroom with many experiences and insights
that will inform their understanding of global systems because they al-
ready have a tacit understanding of how people in power use their culture
to justify inequity and injustice. However, the more students are privi-
leged by their race, class, gender, sexual orientation, language, or other
characteristics (an upper-class, straight, white able-bodied male being the
most privileged), the more they will need help in developing perspective
consciousness since such privilege protects them from situations in which
they would be forced to examine events and issues through the viewpoints
of people different from themselves (see also Sleeter, 1993, 1995).
Moving the center of the curriculum means more than simply in-
cluding social studies content on Africa, Asia, Latin American, and the
Middle East in the social studies. If students are to understand relation-
ships across culture, power, and knowledge construction, they must ex-
perience the knowledge, voices, and ideas of people from these regions.
Moving the center means including content from all world regions from
the perspectives of diverse people in those countries. One of the charac-
teristics that exemplary global educators share is their integration of cross-
cultural experiential learning into social studies instruction. Along with
print, computer, and media resources from Africa, Asia, Latin American,
and the Middle East, they also provide cross-cultural experiences for their
students that create a positive interdependence with people who are dif-
ferent from themselves (see also Johnson & Johnson, 1992; Torney-Purta,
1995). For example, in a seventh grade world history course, middle
school students work collaboratively with international students from a
local university to understand how globalization has influenced ways of
living and cultural norms in China, Ghana, Mexico, Poland, India, and
Iran. In world geography, high school students interview immigrants
from Central America and read the writings of Rigo-berta Menchu, the
Indian writer from Guatemala, as part of their research on the complex-
ity of cultural conflict in Central America. In a fifth grade U.S. history
course, students learn about how certain events in U.S. history are taught
in schools in Canada, Mexico, the Philippines, and Liberia and then dis-
cuss through e-mail with fifth graders in Ireland what they should know
about each other’s histories. In a U.S. Government class, students listen to
scholars from South Africa describe their country’s debate and develop-
ment of a new constitution for a post-apartheid multiracial society.
Here then is the heart of a world-centered global education. Students
examine who they are through work in perspective consciousness and in-
teraction with people from diverse cultures. They recognize the interac-
tion of power with culture and knowledge and appreciate the perceptual
skills that come with dual consciousness. They critically look at how they
developed their own worldviews—the values and beliefs underlying their
knowledge and assumptions about their own culture and those of others—
as they explore histories, literature, and experiences of people across time
and space. They are aware of the importance of seeing history, contempo-
rary events, and global systems through the eyes of others even though
they may not agree with them, for they appreciate that they must under-
stand diverse and conflicting points of view locally and globally if they are
to understand and interact effectively within the world in which they live.
They develop skills in cross-cultural communication and cooperation and
recognize that their understanding of the world is dependent on learning
from and working with people different from themselves.
292 Merry M. Merryfield and Binaya Subedi
Finally, there was the issue of responsibility. The people in the centers
of power must, Menchu stressed, begin to take responsibility for the
role of their societies and their governments in producing conditions
the rest of the world must endure. Her call was not for North Americans
to change Guatemala—“We can do that,” she said—but for them to do
something about North America. This, when the hour closes, is the
message I try to leave with the classes I teach. (Pratt, 1996, p. 71)
References
Alger, C. F., & Harf, J. E. (1986). Global education: Why? For whom? About
what? In R. E. Freeman (Ed.), Promising practices in global education: A hand-
book with case studies (pp. 1–13). New York: The National Council on Foreign
Language and International Studies.
Anderson, L. (1979). Schooling for citizenship in a global age: An exploration of the
meaning and significance of global education. Bloomington, IN: Social Studies
Development Center.
Banks, J. A. (1995). Transformative challenges to the social science disciplines:
Implications for social studies teaching and learning. Theory and Research in
Social Education, 23(1), 2–20.
Becker, J. (1990). Curriculum considerations in global studies. In K. A. Tye (Ed.),
Global education. From thought to action (pp. 67–85). Alexandria, VA: The Asso-
ciation for Supervision and Curriculum Development.
Blaut, J. M. (1993). The colonizer’s model of the world. New York: Guilford.
Case, R. (1993). Key elements of a global perspective. Social Education, 57, 318–325.
Coombs, J. (1989). Toward a defensible conception of a global perspective. Vancouver:
Research and Development in Global Studies, University of British Columbia.
Cushner, K., McClelland, A., & Safford, P. (1992). Human diversity on education:
An integrative approach. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Darling, L. (1995). Empathy and the possibilities for a global perspective: A cau-
tionary tale. In R. Fowler & I. Wright (Eds.), Thinking Globally about Social
Studies Education (pp. 35–50). Vancouver: Centre for the Study of Curricu-
lum and Instruction, University of British Columbia.
Decolonizing the Mind for World-Centered Global Education 293
If you answered (b), you not only answered correctly, your response
also reflected an important challenge facing our democracy today: Al-
though we say that we value a democratic society, the very institutions ex-
pected to prepare democratic citizens—our schools—have moved far
from this central mission. There is now frequent talk of “state takeovers”
of schools that fail to raise test scores in math or reading, but it is
unimaginable that any school would face such an action because it failed
to prepare its graduates for democratic citizenship.
The headlines we read instead are about test scores, basic skills, and
the role schools play in preparing students for jobs in the information
age. The vast bulk of school resources are going to literacy, mathematics,
science, and vocational education. In 2003, for example, federal expen-
ditures by the Department of Education on Civic Education totaled less
than half of one percent of the overall Department budget.1
And when it comes to assessment, civic goals get very little attention.
The No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act mandates yearly testing in math
and reading and, beginning in 2005, science. Social studies and civic edu-
cation, the areas of the curriculum most tied to the democratic mission of
schools, share no such requirements. Similarly, the National Assessment of
297
298 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
Targeting what people don’t know about how our government works
has become a favorite pastime not only of Jay Leno but also of educa-
tors and politicians: one study, by the National Constitution Center,
found that only 38% of respondents could name all three branches of
government while a separate poll conducted two years earlier found
that 59% of all Americans could name the Three Stooges (Dudley &
Gitlesen, 2000). Yet even if Leno discovered an impressive show of fac-
tual knowledge among the nation’s young people, democracy would
still face significant hurdles.
The numbers that chronicle declining civic engagement are becom-
ing increasingly familiar. Twenty-five percent fewer citizens go to the
polls today to vote than did in 1960, and the largest declines are among
young people. Political participation, such as working for a political
party, is at a 40-year low. Broadly speaking, as Robert Putnam (2000)
demonstrates, “Americans are playing virtually every aspect of the civic
game less frequently than we did two decades ago” (p. 41). Although
young people’s voting rates increased somewhat in the November 2004
elections in the United States, youth voters remained roughly the same
proportion of the total electorate and we do not yet know if this rebound
in overall participation represents a unique occurrence or the beginning
of a sustained trend.
It’s not that citizens are incapable of keeping up with current affairs
or of acting on their views. When the Coca-Cola Company announced it
was changing the recipe of its signature soft drink, its Atlanta headquar-
ters received 40,000 letters of protest and fielded 5,000 phone calls per
day for months (Thomas, 1990). More than 24 million young Americans
cast votes to elect last season’s “American Idol” (Paskoff, 2003). The
problem instead is that citizens (and particularly young citizens) are
often disengaged from politics.
Young people need to be taught to make democracy work, to engage
civically, socially, and politically. At the same time that lobbyists are
spending hundreds of millions of dollars, many ordinary citizens are pas-
sive and apathetic when it comes to major issues that affect their lives. If
policies regarding the environment, taxes, military spending, and health
care—to name just a few—are to reflect public sentiments rather than
the interests of well-financed lobbyists, they require the attention of or-
dinary citizens. Improving society requires making democracy work. And
making democracy work requires that schools, and social studies educa-
tors in particular, take this goal seriously: to educate and nurture en-
gaged and informed democratic citizens.
300 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
thing I can do as a citizen is to help others.” In a very real sense, then, young
people seem to be “learning” that democratic citizenship does not require
government, politics, or even collective endeavors. The vision promoted by
most of these educational initiatives is one of citizenship without politics or collective
action—a commitment to individual service, but not to democracy.
studied. The first (The Frederick County Youth Service League) is part of a
high school U.S. government course, the second is a college-level pro-
gram (The Overground Railroad), and the third is an adult education pro-
gram (The Highlander Democracy Schools Initiative). Each program
highlights curricular strategies that can be used by social studies educa-
tors and others when teaching democracy.
1. The Frederick County Youth Service League. The Frederick County
Youth Service League is part of a high school government course that
places students in internships in local county offices, where they
undertake substantive, semester-long projects. It was organized with
support from the Close-up Foundation. One group we observed inves-
tigated the feasibility of curb-side recycling in their county by conduct-
ing phone interviews, examining maps of the city’s population density,
and analyzing projected housing growth and environmental impacts.
Another group identified jobs that prisoners incarcerated for less than
90 days could perform and analyzed the cost and efficacy of similar pro-
grams in other localities. Other students identified strategies to in-
crease immunization rates for children, and still others examined the
availability of adequate affordable housing in their county. In all of
these projects, the students took on responsibilities that required in-
terpersonal, work-related, and analytic skills. These experiences also
provided an up-close look at the ways government organizations inter-
act with the public and with private businesses in formulating policies
that affect the community.
2. The Overground Railroad. Students and faculty members from six
colleges came together over the summer to learn in intensive and ex-
periential ways about the Civil Rights Movement and its implications
for citizenship today.6 For three weeks students in the Overground Rail-
road project traveled throughout the South, visiting historic sites of the
civil rights and anti-slavery movements and meeting with historic lead-
ers of these movements and with others engaged in similar efforts
today. They saw films about civil rights, read related academic litera-
ture, and discussed and analyzed their experiences. The students
talked with Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth, a civil rights leader, about
events in Birmingham in the 1960s and his role in the movement. They
spoke with a sanitation worker in Memphis who participated in the
strike in 1968 and with Judge Sugarman, a lawyer who had worked on
the sanitation workers’ case. They traveled to Selma to meet with a
woman who had been part of the march across the Edmund Pettus
Bridge and with a former leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinat-
ing Committee. When they returned to their respective campuses in
the fall, they initiated projects that were informed by the ideas and
strategies they studied.
304 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
How can I engage issues? For example: engage I have the skills, knowl-
students in real-world edge, and networks I
CAPACITY
Who is going to engage For example: provide a I know and admire peo-
CONNECTION
issues with me? supportive community ple who have made a dif-
of peers and connec- ference in the past and
tions to role models feel connected to those
who want to make a dif-
ference now, and I want
to join them
306 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
Commitment
“It’s Boring”
“We don’t care about it.”
These are the kinds of responses we heard when we asked a focus group of
high school seniors in a traditional government class what they felt about
government and politics ( see also Kahne, Chi, & Middaugh, in press). Per-
haps it should not be surprising, then, that the fraction of citizens who re-
ported caring about current political affairs has declined from about 25%
between 1960 and 1976 to only 5% by 2000 (Gibson & Levine, 2003). This
context helps explain why all of the successful programs we examined em-
phasized developing students’ commitments to actively engaging social is-
sues and working for change. In pursuing this goal, they often employed
two strategies: they helped students identify social problems in need of at-
tention, and they provided motivating experiences in working for change.
1. Show students that society needs improving by examining social problems
and controversial issues. It is common for educators to talk about preparing
students to be informed citizens, capable of active participation in our
democratic system. It is much less common for them to help students un-
derstand why they should bother. This omission is costly. Again and
again in our student interviews we heard that exposure to and discussion
of instances of injustice motivated students to act. As a student in the
Overground Railroad program told us: “Once you see the issues, you feel
compelled to do something and not just be part of the system.” Another
student reported “We have this information, and we all feel like we have
to go and do something. I feel a big responsibility placed on me.”
The lesson may seem obvious, but it is not reflected in many social
studies classrooms: a clear and compelling case that things need chang-
ing motivates and informs commitments to participate.
Knowing what needs changing, however, is not always straightfor-
ward. Many educators are understandably hesitant to expose students to
troubling problems such as poverty, race or gender discrimination, and
environmental degradation. There is a tendency to avoid burdening stu-
dents with these weighty problems—and to avoid controversial issues
that might bring concerned parents and others to the principal’s door.
Unfortunately, such hesitancy is likely to deter students from active en-
gagement with community issues by concealing from them the gravity of
the problems and their compelling nature.
Although care is certainly warranted when discussing controversial is-
sues, our study revealed that keeping social issues out of the classroom is
not. The sense that something is wrong is compelling, especially to adoles-
cents who are already developing their own critiques of the world. Stu-
dents need not agree with each other or with the teachers in their analysis
Teaching Democracy 307
I thought it was just going to be another project. You know, we do some re-
search, it gets written down and we leave and it gets put on the shelf some-
where. But, this is going to be a real thing. It’s really going to happen.
Another student from the same project told us, “I didn’t realize this
was going to be as big as what it is. I mean, we’ve been in the newspa-
per four times.”
308 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
Capacity
It is hard to see yourself as a carpenter if you don’t know how to design a
cabinet or a bookshelf and lack the woodworking skills to translate a de-
sign into practice. Effective citizenship in a democracy is no different.
Teaching students to see themselves as participants in civic affairs and
Teaching Democracy 309
Connection
Ask someone active in his or her community to describe a powerful ex-
perience working for change, and you will probably get a story heavily in-
fused with a sense of camaraderie, collaboration, and connection to
others doing similar work. Students need to know that civic engagement
is not an individual, private endeavor. Indeed, if we say that the goal for
civic educators is to “teach every student good citizenship,” we risk im-
plying that “good and effective” citizenship is derived exclusively from
personal attributes rather than enabled and shaped through interactions
and connections among individuals within a community.7 Moreover, psy-
chologists, sociologists, and anthropologists have long recognized that
an individual’s values and commitments are not predetermined human
characteristics but rather are products of family, community, and the so-
cial setting (Berman, 1997). Cultivating commitments to democratic cit-
izenship requires associating with others who recognize and reinforce
the importance of these priorities.
These connections are especially important in a culture that does lit-
tle to reinforce the value of civic participation. Consider that for most
school-age children, the number of trips to the mall is exponentially
higher than those to the voting booth, to community meetings, and so
on. Despite the importance of connections to others who deem civic par-
ticipation exciting and valuable, few educational programs make devel-
oping a supportive community an explicit curricular goal. The programs
we studied, however, consciously developed communities of support and
fostered connections with role models who could exemplify a life filled
with civic engagement.
1. Communities of Support. Each of the ten programs we studied—
both those based in schools and those situated outside of them—took se-
riously the notion that teaching civic engagement requires the creation
of a social milieu that reinforce values and behaviors consistent with active
civic involvement. Students need to be part of social communities that
have the strength to counter the prevailing cultural emphasis on individ-
ualism and personal gain. A student from Highlander described the con-
nection she felt working with others who believe in the same things she
did. “Without Highlander,” she observed, “I probably would have been
back in a corporate job that wouldn’t let me create change in my com-
Teaching Democracy 311
Indeed, since one of the main tasks for students in high school and
college is to figure out who they want to become and how they hope to
engage in their communities, exposure to inspiring role models can be
quite powerful. Just as it is natural to introduce aspiring students to ar-
chitects or scientists or social workers, if our goal is for all students to be-
come engaged democratic citizens, then we need to expose them to role
models of civic engagement. As another student explained, “I’m in this
point in time where I’m trying to figure out what to do with my life, and
it’s good to see role models like that.”
While the value of such exposure may not be surprising, it is inter-
esting that several students emphasized that exposure to “ordinary” indi-
viduals, rather than to “famous” individuals often had the greatest
impact. In contrast to the ubiquitous school programs that hold up Mar-
tin Luther King Jr. as a hero to be respected (but not necessarily emu-
lated), these programs offered role models appeared to be ordinary
people—not unlike the students. Encountering such people spurred stu-
dents to imagine themselves as civic actors formulating and pursuing
their own civic goals. When Reverend Jones ended her presentation
about what happened in the 1960s, she added “That’s what we did when
we were in college. Now it’s your turn.” Her message was clear: her sto-
ries were not to be dismissed as titillating tidbits of a nostalgic past but
rather stories about what is possible when citizens commit to act. Many
programs we observed used connection to the past to show students the
possibilities for the future, that ordinary people can work together to im-
prove society and achieve extraordinary results. “Now it’s your turn” was
an appeal these students took seriously.
democracy. Indeed, Gandhi, when asked what made him saddest in life,
replied, “The hard heart of the world’s most educated.” Academic study
(even in the social studies) does not guarantee our humanity, and it will
not sustain our democracy. If we care about educating democratic citi-
zens, we must enlarge and enrich both our educational priorities and
our practices.
Fortunately, there are other options. The approaches we witnessed,
while they varied to match particular contexts, shared a focus on civic
commitment, capacity, and connections and often pursued these goals
in similar ways. The programs pursued the development of civic commit-
ment by exposing students to problems in society and by creating oppor-
tunities for students to have positive experiences while working toward
solutions. Students’ civic capacity was developed by providing specific op-
portunities for them to learn skills and acquire the knowledge they
needed in order to participate in democratic deliberation and action.
And civic connections were pursued through the creation of supportive
communities and exposure to role models. In these ways students devel-
oped a sense of the history of social change, of who they might become,
and of how they might fit into contemporary efforts to improve society.
By developing commitment, capacity, and connections, each of these
programs helped teach democracy.
Social studies courses are especially well suited to further these goals.
For example, social studies educators could make a systematic effort to
expose students to five compelling civic role models a year. Similarly, it
would not be hard to integrate into the curriculum discussions of social
problems, current events, and controversial issues that students find
compelling. Moving in this direction would help expose the fallacy of a
zero-sum or either/or relationship between academic and democratic
purposes of education. Democratic and academic goals can be pursued
simultaneously. There are also many existing social studies curricula suit-
able for large-scale implementation that use community projects, simu-
lations, and related approaches to integrate academic and democratic
priorities. Specifically, the Constitutional Rights Foundation’s CityWorks
curriculum and the Center for Civic Education’s We the People curricu-
lum have both demonstrated their effectiveness in relation to civic goals
(Leming, 1993; Kahne, Chi, Middaugh, in press).
Democracy won’t run on autopilot. Fortunately, we already know
how to do much that needs to be done, and social studies educators are
well-positioned to lead the way. What we currently lack is an adequate ed-
ucational commitment to democracy. What we need to make democracy
work are teachers committed to developing students’ civic commitment,
capacity, and connections and educational policy makers who will sup-
port their efforts.
314 Joseph Kahne and Joel Westheimer
Notes
1. U.S. Department of Education Budget, available at www.ed.gov/offices/
OUS/Budget04/04app.pdf
2. This chapter is based on an article that appeared in the September 2003
issue of Phi Delta Kappan. It is one of a set of articles and book chapters report-
ing on a study of programs that aimed to promote democratic values and effec-
tive citizenry. For an analysis of the politics that underlie different conceptions of
citizenship, see Westheimer and Kahne (2004). For our findings on the role effi-
cacy plays and the limits of deliberately structuring programs to be successful, see
Kahne and Westheimer (2006). For a discussion of neutrality and indoctrination,
see Westheimer and Kahne (2003). Finally, for a discussion of the chilling effects
of post-9/11 patriotic sentiments on democracy in K–12 schools, see Westheimer
(2004). All of these articles are available at www.democraticdialogue.com
3. Points of Light mission statement. www.pointsoflight.org. May 2003.
4. For a critique of character education programs along these lines, see
Kohn (1997). For analysis of the job market and its disconnect from character
building job training programs, see Lafer (2002).
5. For a well-conceived description of goals for civic education, see Gibson
and Levine (2003); for a description of the complexities of pursuing democratic
goals amid diversity, see Parker (2003).
6. The Overground Railroad/Agora Project was a collaboration between six
private colleges in Kentucky, Indiana, Minnesota, North Carolina, and Ohio with
Berea (Kentucky) College and the College of St. Catherine coordinating. The
colleges came together in an effort to create opportunities for students that pro-
mote democracy and public works. The students receive college credit through
their participation.
7. Indeed, despite the importance of social relations in democratic action,
school textbooks and curricula most often turn the history of collective efforts
into myths about individual heroes. See for example, Herb Kohl’s comparison of
the Rosa Parks story as told in children’s history textbooks with the history rec-
ognized by historians and by Parks herself (Kohl, 2005).
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Parker, W. C. (2003). Teaching democracy: Unity and diversity in public life. New York:
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Putnam, R. D. (2000). Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community.
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PART IV
CONCLUSION
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CHAPTER 17
REMAKING THE SOCIAL STUDIES CURRICULUM
E. Wayne Ross
319
320 E. Wayne Ross
free speech and assembly rights, but as far as governing is concerned, they
are primarily spectators.
Perhaps then, apparent consensus on purpose of social studies as cit-
izenship education is not as previously suggested, meaningless. And, al-
though there may be an “ideology gap” between social studies teachers
and teacher educators/researchers (although Vinson’s [1998] research
calls into question Leming’s “two cultures” thesis), traditional liberal-
democratic thinking and the spectator democracy it engenders has dom-
inated the practice of both groups.
Democracy? Yes!
“Democracy” is most often taught, and understood, as a system of gov-
ernment providing a set of rules that allow individuals wide latitude to do
as they wish. The first principle of democracy, however, is providing
means for giving power to the people, not to an individual or to a re-
stricted class of people. “Democracy,” Dewey said, is “a mode of associ-
ated living, of conjoint communicated experience” (Dewey, 1916, p. 87).
In this conception, democratic life involves paying attention to the mul-
tiple implications of our actions on others (Boisvert, 1998). In fact, the
primary responsibility of democratic citizens is concern with the devel-
opment of shared interests that lead to sensitivity about repercussions of
their actions on others. Dewey characterized democracy as a force that
breaks down the barriers that separate people and creates community:
and to consider the action of others to give point and direction to his
own, is equivalent to the breaking down of those barriers of class, race,
and national territory which kept men [sic] from perceiving the full im-
port of their activity. (Dewey, 1916, p. 87)
The more porous the boundaries of social groups, the more they wel-
come participation from all individuals, and as the varied groupings
enjoy multiple and flexible relations, society moves closer to fulfilling the
democratic ideal.
How does contemporary society (as well as stakeholders in the edu-
cation community) measure up to the guiding ideals of the above crite-
ria? Achieving perfection in democracy and education will, of course,
remain elusive, but without examining our circumstances in light of
guiding ideals we could never engage in the work to eliminate the “re-
strictive and disturbing elements” that prevent the growth of democratic
life (Dewey, 1927; Boisvert, 1998).
A close examination of theories of knowledge and conceptions of de-
mocracy that operate widely in social studies education can illuminate el-
ements of curriculum and teaching that prevent growth of democracy
and, obscure the political and ideological consequences of teaching and
curriculum (see Nelson & Pang, chapter 6 in this volume; Ross, 2000;
Ross, Gabbard, Kesson, Mathison, & Vinson, 2004; Vinson, chapter 3 in
this volume). These consequences include conceptions of the learner as
passive; democratic citizenship as a spectator project; and ultimately the
maintenance of status quo inequalities in society. Often times social stud-
ies educators eschew openly political or ideological agendas for teaching
and schooling as inappropriate or “unprofessional;” however the ques-
tion is not whether to encourage particular social visions in the class-
room, but rather what kind of social visions will be taught.
326 E. Wayne Ross
The Federalists expected that the public would remain compliant and
deferential to the politically active elite—and for the most part that has
been true throughout U.S. history. Despite the Federalists’ electoral de-
feat, their conception of democracy prevailed, though in a different
form as industrial capitalism emerged. This view was most succinctly ex-
pressed by John Jay, president of the Continental Congress and first
Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, who said “the people who own
328 E. Wayne Ross
the country ought to govern it.” Jay’s maxim is the principle upon which
the U.S. was founded and is one of the roots of neoliberalism.
So-called democratic politicians and theoreticians have railed
against a truly participatory democracy, which engages the public in con-
trolling its own affairs, for more than two hundred years. For example,
Alexander Hamilton warned of the “great beast” that must be tamed. In
the twentieth century, Walter Lippman warned of the “bewildered herd”
that would trample itself without external control, and in the Encyclopedia
of the Social Sciences the eminent political scientist Harold Lasswell warned
elites of the “ignorance and stupidity of the masses” and called for them
not to succumb to the “democratic dogmatisms about men [sic] being
the best judges of their own interests.” These perspectives have nurtured
neoliberal spectator democracy, which deters or prohibits the public
from managing its own affairs and resolutely controls the means of in-
formation. At first this may seem an odd conception of democracy, but
it is the prevailing conception of liberal-democratic thought—and one
that has been fostered by traditional approaches to social studies educa-
tion and the current curriculum standards movement (e.g., Mathison,
Ross, & Vinson, chapter 5 in this volume; Ross & Gibson, 2006). In spec-
tator democracy a specialized class of experts identify what our common
interests are and think and plan accordingly. The function of the rest of
us is to be “spectators” rather than participants in action (for example,
casting votes in elections or implementing educational reforms that are
conceived by people who know little or nothing about our community,
our desires or our interests).
While the Madisonian principle that the government should provide
special protections for the rights of property owners is central to U.S. de-
mocracy, there is also a critique of inequality—in a tradition of thought
that includes Thomas Jefferson, Dewey, and many others—which argues
that the root of human nature is the need for free creative work under
one’s control.
For example, Thomas Jefferson distinguished between the aristocrats
“who fear and distrust the people and wish to draw all powers from them
into the hands of the higher classes” (e.g., Hamilton, Lippman, and Lass-
well) and democrats, who “identify with the people, have confidence in
them, cherish and consider them as the most honest and safe . . . depository
of the public interest” (Lipscom & Ellery, 1903, p. 96).
Dewey also warned of the anti-democratic effects of the concentra-
tion of private power in absolutist institutions such as corporations. He
was clear that as long as there was no democratic control of the work-
place and economic systems that democracy would be limited, stunted.
Dewey emphasized that democracy has little content when big business
rules the life of the country through its control of “the means of produc-
Remaking the Social Studies Curriculum 329
Conclusion
The principal obstacle to achieving education for democracy, according
to Dewey, was the powerful alliance of class privilege with philosophies of
education that sharply divided mind and body, theory and practice, cul-
ture and utility (Westbrook, 1991). In Dewey’s day, and still today, pre-
vailing educational practice is the actualization of the philosophies of
profoundly antidemocratic thinkers. The fact that educational policy
makers are now calling for a “unified” curriculum, with a single set of stan-
dards for all students is merely a superficial adaptation of the economic
and educational systems Dewey critiqued more than eighty years ago.
Dewey’s concern was with the ideas implied by a democratic society and
the application of those ideas to education. “The price that democratic so-
cieties will have to pay for their continuing health,” Dewey argued, “is the
elimination of oligarchy—the most exclusive and dangerous of all—that
attempts to monopolize the benefits of intelligence and the best methods
for the profit of a few privileged ones (1913, p. 127).
The best way to achieve democracy is to initiate children in a form of
social life characteristic of democracy: a community of full participation.
The aim of education in general and social studies in particular should
330 E. Wayne Ross
There is no single means to this end and the contributors to this vol-
ume have provided a variety of pathways for those who want to take up
the challenge of building a more democratic and socially just society.
Notes
1. This section and portions of the next are largely drawn from: Ross,
E. W. (1998). Social studies education and the pursuit of social justice. Theory
and Research in Social Education, 26(4), 457–460.
2. Collins (1999) reports that in 1995, the median black household had a
net worth of $7,400 (compared to $61,000 for whites). The median net worth ex-
cluding home equity was $200 for blacks (compared to $18,000 for whites). One
in three black households had zero or negative wealth. Latino households were
worse off, with a median net worth of $5,000 including home equity and zero
otherwise. Half the Latino households in the U.S. have more debt than assets.
3. For an overview and analysis of the impact of neoliberal economic poli-
cies on national, regional, and global economies see: Magdoff, H., Wood,
E. M., & McNally, D. (1999). “Capitalism at the End of the Millennium:
A Global Survey” [Special issue]. Monthly Review, 51(3).
4. Chomsky comments in Class Warfare (1997) that “when you read John
Dewey today, or Thomas Jefferson, their work sounds like that of some crazed Marx-
ist lunatic. But that just shows how much intellectual life has deteriorated” (p. 124).
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CONTRIBUTORS
Editor
E. WAYNE ROSS is Professor in the Department of Curriculum Studies
at the University of British Columbia. He is interested in the influence of
social and institutional contexts on teachers’ practices as well as the role
of curriculum and teaching in building a democratic society in the face
of anti-democratic impulses of greed, individualism, and intolerance. A
former day-care worker and secondary social studies teacher in North
Carolina and Georgia, Ross is also co-founder of The Rouge Forum
(www.rougeforum.org), a group of educators, students, and parents
seeking a democratic society. He is co-editor of the journals Workplace: A
Journal for Academic Labor (www.workplace-gsc.com) and Cultural Logic
(www.eserver.org/clogic) and the former editor of Theory and Research in
Social Education. He is the author or editor of numerous books including:
Defending Public Schools (Vols. 1–4); Neoliberalism and Educational Reform
(with Rich Gibson); Race, Ethnicity and Education (Vols. 1–4) (with Valerie
Ooka Pang); Image and Education (with Kevin D. Vinson); and Democratic
Social Education: Social Studies for Social Change (with David Hursh). You
can find him on the web at: weblogs.elearning.ubc.ca/ross
Contributors
MARGARET SMITH CROCCO is Professor of Social Studies and Educa-
tion at Teachers College, Columbia University. She received her bache-
lor’s degree from Georgetown University in philosophy and master’s and
doctoral degrees from the University of Pennsylvania in American Civiliza-
tion. She taught American Studies at the University of Maryland and Amer-
ican History and Women’s History at Drew, Montclair State, and William
Paterson Universities, and within the University of Texas system of higher
education. For eight years, she worked as a social studies teacher and
administrator in New Jersey. Her research interests are currently focused
on the history of the social studies and diversity issues, especially as they
333
334 Contributors
national, and state education conferences, and has written numerous arti-
cles related to social studies education and curriculum studies that have
appeared journals such as Teachers College Record, Teacher Education Quar-
terly, The Social Studies and Theory and Research in Social Education. Most re-
cently, he has contributed two chapters to the Defending Public Schools series
edited by E. Wayne Ross, Kevin Vinson, and Katharine Kesson. His current
research interests are in the application of future studies to social studies
curriculum, and the standards movement in education. He resides in
Bodega Bay, California, with his wife Martha Rapp Ruddell.
founding editor of Social Science Record and as editor of Theory and Research
in Social Education; he is one of the original members of the national
panel of judges for Project Censored, identifying the ten most censored
news stories each year.
MARC PRUYN earned his PhD in curriculum at UCLA, and now works
at New México State University as Associate Professor of Social Studies
Education and as the Director of Elementary Education. His research
interests include exploring the connections among education for social
justice, multiculturalism, critical pedagogy and theory, and the social
studies in the Chihuahuan Borderlands and beyond. His areas of exper-
tise include curriculum theory, educational foundations, and research
methodologies. His books include Teaching Peter McLaren: Paths of Dissent
(Peter Lang), Social Justice in These Times (Information Age), and Dis-
course Wars in Gotham-West: A Latino Immigrant Urban Tale of Resistance and
Agency (Westview).
American Indians: 9, 116, 122, 129, civic competence, 60; and civil
137–154; experiences of disobedience, 65; and civic
139–154; treaties with U. S. dispositions, 63; conceptions of,
government, 139–140 59–67; and cultural studies,
assessment: 197–213; and account- 69–71; as cultural transmission,
ability, 197; authentic, 10, 198, 321; and diversity, 179; and
204–207; definition of, 200; ethical commitments and beliefs,
dilemmas in, 197–198, 212; 266–267; features of successful
distinction between authentic programs, 305–312; in a global
and performance assessment, age, 283–292; moving beyond
205–206; as distinguished from service-associate citizenship,
tests and measurement, 198–200; 302–304; and oppression, 8,
formative, 201–202; in historical 51–73; preparing students to be
context, 202–206; as instruction, effective democratic citizens,
201, 205; and learning, 200–202; 297–314; without politics,
performance assessment, 197, 300–302
204–213; role of students in, civic competence: 60–63; skills of,
200–202; summative, 201–202; 92–93
See also testing civic education
See citizenship education
capitalism: 94, 157–168 passim; and class (social): 51; Marx’s dialectical
democracy, 327–329; students’ theory of, 157–158; 233
understanding of, 160–161 See also working class
citizens: preparing democratic, classrooms: as laboratories, 5;
297–214 democratic practices in, 88
citizenship: civic engagement as social consciousness: double, 285–286, 290;
endeavor, 310–312; conflicting perspective, 285–286, 290
conceptions, 78; democratic, 161, controversial issues: teaching,
300–302; ethical grounds of, 306–308
268–269; spectator, 166 critical pedagogy, 9, 51
citizenship education: 2: as aim of critical race theory, 9, 51
social studies education, 20–23; cultural heritage institutions: 11;
alternative conceptions, 67–73; 242–251 passim
as anti-oppressive, 67–72; that cultural studies: and citizenship
emphasizes character, 301–302; education, 67, 69–71
353
354 Subject Index
The third edition of The Social Studies Curriculum thoroughly updates the definitive
overview of the primary issues teachers face when creating learning experiences for
students in social studies. By connecting the diverse elements of the social studies
curriculum —history education, civic, global, and social issues—the book offers a
unique and critical perspective that separates it from other texts in the field. This
edition includes new work on race, gender, sexuality, critical multiculturalism, visual
culture, moral deliberation, digital technologies, teaching democracy, and the future
of social studies education. In an era marked by efforts to standardize curriculum
and teaching, this book challenges the status quo by arguing that social studies
curriculum and teaching should be about uncovering elements that are taken for
granted in our everyday experiences, and making them the target of inquiry.
“The Social Studies Curriculum demystifies the process of social studies curriculum
construction. This helps empower pre-service and beginning teachers to become
curriculum designers rather than just curriculum consumers. The authors avoid
educational jargon and a great strength of the book is its accessibility to readers.
I look forward to using this new edition with my social studies education classes.”
— Alan J. Singer, author of Social Studies for Secondary Schools:
Teaching to Learn, Learning to Teach, Second Edition
“This book is a valuable resource for understanding the theoretical and practical
dimensions of the most important issues in social studies education today. The
authors provide a wide range of critical perspectives and represent some of the best
new scholarship in the field. The book is also an important source for social studies
educators and teachers confronted with the challenges posed by the current standards-
based education reform.” — William B. Stanley, editor of Critical Issues
in Social Studies Research for the Twenty-first Century
E. Wayne Ross is Professor of Curriculum Studies at the University
of British Columbia. He has written and edited many books, includ-
ing (with Jeffrey W. Cornett and Gail McCutcheon) Teacher Personal
Theorizing: Connecting Curriculum Practice, Theory, and Research,
also published by SUNY Press.
State University of
New York Press
www.sunypress.edu
NAME INDEX
341
342 Name Index