Cycle One Introductory Post

What is curriculum? What is its purpose? What is the relationship between student and curriculum? Such simple questions. Yet so difficult. And these difficulties are not merely the result of academics making things needlessly complex.

On the most basic level, as teachers, we know that when we take things from the drawing board to the classroom, there are changes—sometimes very big changes, that can totally transform the original plan we had in our head. Nothing ever happens like we plan it, no lesson is ever the same from one period to the next. Curriculum scholars have tended to use phrases like the “intended curriculum” and the “enacted curriculum” to differentiate these two separate phases of the curriculum process.

Yet even the enacted curriculum changes and varies from student to student. John Dewey reminds us that in every situation, our past experiences and future goals impact the way in which we make sense of the present moment. Frightening, but true: One child is totally into this lesson, another is bored to death, a third is in the throes of agony over something we might be asking her at any moment to undertake. Scholars have used phrases like the “received” or “lived” curriculum to differentiate this end phase of the curriculum process. 

Now, think about those things that students learn in our classrooms—the received curriculum. How much of it is intended by us? How much not? If we choose a story for a student to read, and they really, really dislike it, have we just taught them, in some small measure, to dislike reading? The way in which what students learn interacts with what we want them to learn: This has been variously termed the “explicit” or “planned” curriculum. Those things we did not intend for students to learn have been variously called the “hidden” or “implicit” curriculum.

There are many more permutations of curriculum. My goal, this cycle, is not to confuse you, but to get you thinking about the meaning of curriculum, and all the things that impact the learning of students. As we move through the course, we will expand the range of issues we think about, but will also continually return to ask about the very definition of curriculum itself.

Now, to start off this cycle, we are reading an article about a young man named Donovan. Donovan is a beautiful young man who, however, faces some pretty big challenges. Donovan’s case is no doubt unique. But, in other ways, it is not. The same questions raised about what Donovan should be learning are those that should be raised for any child. Does he need to learn rigorous academic content, even if he is not going to college, or may never find any use for such content? Does he need to learn how to adapt himself to the future he is likely to have, learning the life skills that will allow him to fit into whatever society holds for him? Does he need to learn how to advocate for change, so that he can make his own life and those of other persons with disabilities a better one? Does he need to explore his own self more, learn about his interests and unique talents? These questions all speak to the purpose of curriculum—questions raised very nicely in the Kieran Egan piece for this cycle. 

As we think more about Donovan, we might ask why it is we assume he needs to go to classes each day—classes with names like math, science, language arts and social studies. Perhaps, instead, his focus should be on making friendships, taking care of himself, and vocational skills for work in the service industry? Wouldn't these be more appropriate classes for Donovan? Might they not be more appropriate for many children—more so than Algebra II or Chemistry?

The division of the curriculum into subject-matter areas has been long in place, but often challenged. Indeed, consider this list put forward by a national panel in 1918 (the famed Cardinal Principles Report that Nel Noddings will discuss in another reading for this cycle):

1. Health
2. Command Of Fundamental Processes (reading, writing and arithmetic)
3. Worthy Home Membership
4. Vocation
5. Civic Education
6. Worthy Use Of Leisure
7. Ethical Character 

Imagine a school day divided into the study of each of these seven areas. It would look quite different, and would presumably result in quite different discussions between teachers and students, than what happens when we divide our school day into segments called “math” and “art.” While the traditional disciplines might still be used, they would not be approached in the same way. Rather, they would be tools or lenses through which to look at the problems and challenges of contemporary life.

Scholars like Herbert Kliebard have argued that our current curriculum is something of a compromise between traditionalists and reformers. Indeed, we don’t often stop to think about how things like health class and home economics got into the curriculum alongside calculus and British literature. Similarly, we often don’t realize that a rigorous class on health might include or draw upon things like advanced math (say, a study of the rate at which a disease has spread through a developing versus a developed nation). Or that a school project for the tourism industry might develop in-depth knowledge of the economies and cultures of India and Pakistan.

Finally, for this week, you will read a classic work in the field of curriculum studies, John Dewey’s The Child and the Curriculum.

Dewey is an often misunderstood figure, but as you read his text, I think you will see that in many ways, he is a traditionalist: He wants students to master the traditional divisions of knowledge we usually call “the disciplines.” His innovation was in how he thought students should get there: By going back and exploring the ways in which the disciplines were developed in real-life contexts. In this way, students would learn about biology and history through growing and preparing their own food, and as they matured, slowly work their way up to studying biology and history in more organized and sophisticated formats (as biologists and historians do). Dewey’s own Laboratory School at the University of Chicago attempted to get students to do just that. 

So, as you read Dewey, I would ask you to think: What is curriculum for him? What is the rationale by which we (as teachers, as a society) include anything in that curriculum? What can we as the teachers and parents of today learn from him (if anything)?

As you read and view all of our texts for this cycle, I ask you to reflect back on the case of Donovan  in order to think about what our professional and moral responsibilities are in such cases. 

• What are we teaching Donovan, both intended and otherwise? 
• What should we be teaching Donovan? 
• Should his mother have a greater say in what he learns? Or does the principal really know best in such cases? 
• How much freedom should be given to teachers and schools to develop curricula that meet students' needs and interests?

In answering these questions, we also need to think about our own experiences (as students, as teachers, as parents, as concerned citizens) as well.

As you construct your post for this cycle, you may reference Donovan or any of the other texts. But mostly, I want you to write about your own experiences relating to the guiding questions for the cycle. Help us see where you stand on the nature and purposes of curriculum, the complexities and paradoxes you see in these questions, and ultimately, how you tend to act in the world to resolve them. 

In the meantime, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!