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Citation:
Kenneth R. Conklin, "Theory and Practice as Viewed From the Classroom," EDUCATIONAL FORUM, XLIV, 3 (March, 1980), pp. 265-275
Theory and Practice as Viewed from the Classroom
KENNETH R. CONKLIN
Most of the teachers in my high school think philosophy of education is both
useless and boring. They regret having been forced to waste time studying
it and ask me: "How could a guy like you possibly have earned a Ph.D. in
philosophy of education and have been a professor of that subject for eight
years?"/1 They like me and talk freely about all sorts of personal matters,
yet they rarely bring up anything remotely connected with philosophy of
education. The subject is mentioned in a tone of humor and mutual
embarrassment, as one might mention a rip in the seat of the pants. The
chairman of our department, the principal, and the superintendent of our
school system all enthusiastically supported my candidacy to be a teacher
of mathematics and recommended that I be paid in accordance with my
doctorate and my eight years of professorial teaching experience. Yet no
teacher or administrator has ever initiated a "consultation" with me for
philosophical or theoretical advice on a practical matter, and the response
to my occasional initiatives has been polite but reserved.
At the time I
was interviewing for a job, my doctoral specialty in philosophy of
------------
Kenneth R. Conklin is a teacher at Norwood High School, Norwood, Massachusetts.
[end page 266, start page 267]
education and my experience as a college teacher were often perceived as negative factors. Many school systems refused to consider my candidacy because I would be too high on the salary scale. What seems more significant is that department heads and principals who had barely met me constantly questioned whether I would be able to "reach" high school students (i.e., come down out of the ivory tower to their level), and whether I could handle discipline problems. Through-out my first two years of teaching, students who were not doing well (and their parents) often defended or rationalized poor performance by referring to my background and questioning my ability to "reach" the average sixteen year old. It seems obvious that teachers, administrators, and parents regard philosophy as abstruse and impractical, and they believe that professors are pedantic obfuscators who deal only with
abstractions and are unable to communicate clearly or interestingly.
Professors of philosophy of education are presumed to have theoretical
knowledge concerning the "discipline problem," but secondary school
teachers and administrators are not aware or will not believe that such
knowledge could actually be useful in the classroom situation.
In view of the way my expertise in philosophy of education is regarded by practicing teachers and administrators, I decided it would be important to reconsider the general issue of whether philosophy of education is or can be useful for the classroom teacher, and how collegiate teaching of the subject might be made more interesting and more relevant. I and others have examined such questions at length on previous occasions, but always from a
scholarly, theoretical perspective./2 In this article I shall examine the
practical aspects of the relevance between theory and practice, as
exemplified by the way other teachers and I use it.
Much has been written
about the relevance of philosophic theory to educational practice, i.e.,
how a philosophical system or a method of doing philosophy can be used to
defend or criticize policies and actions of teachers, administrators, and
non-school nurturers such as parents, nurses, governments, and
institutions. Some work has also been done on the relevance of educational
practice to philosophic theory, i.e., how the experiences of a
practitioner influence his or her philosophical commitments and methods.
Almost all work on these topics, however, has been done from a theoretical
or speculative standpoint. The problem of the relevance between philosophic
theory and educational practice has been viewed as a problem in logic (How
can general value statements be made to stand as premises in chains of
syllogisms leading to practical prescriptions?); linguistic analysis (What
does "relevance" mean? Can theories be value-neutral? Is "education" a
triadic relation?); metaphysics and epistemology (To be internally
consistent and comprehensive, a given philosophic system must support some conclusions while opposing others on the question, "Given human nature and what I believe in, how should I go about deciding, formulating, or
defending prescriptions for action?"); history (How have various
philosophers viewed the
[end page 266, start page 267]
theory-practice connections?/3 ); or psychology and sociology (What motivates a person to change either value commitments or actions until they are brought into correspondence?)./4
What I have said about philosophy of education is
also true about history of education, sociology of education, psychology of
education, and educational administration. The topics and categories
differ from one discipline to another, of course, but much has been written
about the relevance of foundational theory to educational practice. Little
has been written about the impact a practitioner's experiences have upon
his or her commitments and techniques in the theoretical discipline.
Virtually all of these writings are theoretical or speculative.
An important question has been overlooked: How do teachers and administrators view the theory-practice relationship in the context of their day-to-day practicing? When a practical problem arises, does it come to mind that the problem may have interesting or important theoretical aspects? Is the practitioner motivated to ponder theoretical problems or consult his
foundational knowledge? If so, has he been given sufficient foundational
knowledge and sufficient practice in applying it to enable him to do the
pondering, consulting, and applying satisfactorily in some particular case?
How do practioners feel about the usefulness of courses they took in
philosophy of education? Does studying philosophy of education affect a
practitioner's conduct even though that person is unaware of it?
Why has the theory of the theory-practice relation been extensively studied while the practice of the theory-practice relation has been virtually ignored?
It is not the purpose of this article to address that question, but I
cannot resist the opportunity to offer a speculative hypothesis. Perhaps
the theoretical side has been predominant because it is theoreticians who
teach courses which practitioners are forced to take. Since professors and
administrators usually decide the curriculum and the standards of
intellectual respectability while practitioners are in the role of students
seeking credits and grades, whatever content is favored by the professors
and administrators will be predominant. The professors enjoy producing
theory, and in particular they enjoy (and feel some need for) generating
theories about why the study of theory helps the practitioner.
Perhaps Marx would say that the theory of the theory-practice relationship is the rationalization of the bourgeoisie intellectual class (professors) whereby they seek to prove to themselves and the working class (practitioners) that intellectuals are indispensable. Recent economic conditions have forced both practitioners and theoreticians to reassess the worth of theory in every dimension of human endeavor, including education. Cut-backs in the foundational component of teacher education in favor of more field-centered, performance-based, practical training are analogous to
cut-backs in general education, the arts, and humanities in favor of more
practical, vocational subjects. There has been some consciousness-raising
in the field of education as teachers through their unions are demanding
more of a
[end page 267 / start page 268]
voice in the standards for
certification and the content of teacher-education courses. It has now
become commonplace for groups of teachers to organize courses, specify
curriculum, and hire professors to teach what is wanted through in-service
workshops, teacher-centers, and group-independent studies, for example.
Perhaps it is time for professors of teacher education to take account of
the practical aspects of the theory-practice relationship, even if only to
protect their job security in the face of a proletarian revolt!
There are two general approaches to studying the practical aspects of the
theory-practice relation. One approach would be to perform statistical
analyses of data from questionnaires and observations. For example, the
responses of a random sample of teachers who had studied philosophy of
education could be compared with a random sample of those who had not with regard to how well they perform certain teaching or administrative duties, or how they answer a series of attitudinal or cognitive questions. A
second approach would be to make an introspective appraisal or compile an
anecdotal report. The first approach has the advantage of seeming to be
scientific, objective, and mathematically impressive, while the second
approach can be more intimate, soul-searching, and subjectively
significant. I have decided to take the second approach. What follows is a
report of my observations and conclusions about the practice of the
theory-practice connection based upon the experiences of a
well-established theoretician (myself) who has been teaching in a typical
suburban high school since September 1975.
I believe there are three
settings in which it would be reasonable to expect foundations of education
to be obviously applicable to educational practice. First, any
conscientious teacher who has studied foundations of education could be
expected to have classroom experiences which would at least occasionally
provoke serious theoretical questioning, analysis, and criticism or
justification of one's own performance. Second, teachers often discuss
common problems informally with other teachers at lunch, over coffee, in
the workroom or teachers' lounge, etc. One would expect that such
conversations might be enhanced by or lead to theoretical analysis. Third,
there are times when the formal or official business of a school seems to
require theoretical argumentation, such as the preparation of updated
curriculum guides, the adoption of new policies regarding graduation
requirements, or the once-every-ten-year reaccreditation evaluation. I
shall now describe the actual uses made of foundational studies in
education in each of these contexts in my own experience.
I am certainly a
conscientious teacher and have studied philosophy of education at great
depth. I have been surprised and sometimes embarrassed, however, at how
seldom I raise theoretical questions about my own classroom practices. My
first year as a high school teacher followed immediately after eight years
as a professor of philosophy of education. Surely the relevance between
theory and practice should have been obvious then, if only because my full
time theorizing and full time practicing occurred so closely together.
Yet, like all
[end page 268 / start page 269]
first year teachers, I was
spending seven hours per day at school, which drained me physically and
emotionally, and an additional thirty or forty hours per week reading
textbooks, trying out potential homework problems, preparing lesson plans,
constructing tests and grading them, and keeping records on student
attendance and performance. The workload of a conscientious first year
teacher is truly enormous, leaving almost no free time on evenings or
weekends and no inclination to use free time to examine theoretical
issues. Of course it is true that raising an issue requires only a moment's
insight, and time is not required until one analyzes the issue.
Nevertheless, there were very few issues that I raised even fleetingly or
tentatively.
During my second and third years of teaching I had increasing
amounts of time and energy for my private pursuits. I had mastered the
textbooks, could reuse old lesson plans and tests, and knew how to run my
classroom smoothly and my record keeping efficiently. Still, I seldom
raised a theoretical issue spontaneously. When I chastised myself for such
scholarly lethargy and forced myself to theorize, I found that I was able
to theorize as well as ever, but the connection or relevance to my daily
work was tenuous at best and often seemed laughable. I felt it was more
important to develop improved tests, new strategies for teaching difficult
topics, and classroom games to break the monotony of the daily cycle:
taking attendance, checking homework or quiz, going over homework,
covering new material, and assigning new homework.
Here are some classroom
events and some of the beginnings of theoretical analysis which they
stimulated:
1. Should I show a certain instructional film at the expense
of covering a certain textbook topic? Which knowledge is of most worth? Is
variety of mode of presentation sufficiently important to compensate for
the selection of less worthy material?
2. Am I justified in spending more time or energy with some students at the expense of others? Spend more time
with bright students because they are our future leaders (Plato); spend
more time with slow students because they need it (Marx: from each
according to ability, to each according to need).
3. Should I make
students stay after school when they repeatedly fail to do homework? Yes,
because it is a school policy; yes, because I am responsible for knowing
what is best for them and making them do it; no, because they should learn
to take responsibility for their own learning.
4. When ordered to do so by
my department head, should I tell the students a test we are standardizing
for future use will count toward their grades (to motivate them) when in
fact it will not count? No, because it would be wrong to lie, and also
because if the students discover that I have lied for my own convenience,
they may learn by example to lie for their own convenience; yes, because
parents, teachers, administrators, and public officials have the right to
deceive
[end page 269 / start page 270]
their subordinates when necessary
for their general welfare.
5. Should I join the teachers' union? (This
question arose even before the first day of school, as the union's
departmental representative and other teachers spoke with me about it.
Arguments for and against teachers' unions and strikes are well known.)
In these and all other cases where I was stimulated to begin philosophical
inquiry, the stimulus was some specific classroom incident or a pattern of
specific practices. Abstract theorizing, beginning and ending with general
speculation, would have seemed uninteresting and unproductive. While time
and inclination did not permit philosophical speculation to rise very far
above the mundane, my background in philosophy of education enabled me to
recognize that these issues could lead to more significant speculation.
Often I could recognize the general outlines of profound epistemological or
metaphysical arguments, without actually delineating those arguments. The
issues that most often provoked the beginnings of philosophical inquiry
were problems in practical morality, usually of two types: (1) Given two or
more desirable actions which are incompatible because of limited time or
resources, what should be their order of priority? (2) Is a certain action
morally right or wrong under a certain set of circumstances?
I have now shown that a conscientious teacher with a strong background in philosophy of education might not often have the time or inclination to pursue significant theoretical arguments which would defend or criticize his own classroom practices. Perhaps for the same reasons, teachers usually do not rise very far above the mundane when discussing classroom problems with other teachers. Two mathematics teachers, relaxing in the teachers' lounge, might prefer to discuss the latest events in professional sports or
politics. If they talk about their work, it is usually to commiserate
jokingly but not to analyze or prescribe. Common examples of such
conversation might be:
"John Doe said today that he couldn't remember how
to use the Pythagorean Theorem. How did he ever get into Advanced Senior
Math?"
"Heck, that's nothing. Sam Smith said today that he never even heard
of the Pythagorean Theorem. He claims Mr. Jones never taught it last year."
"Well, considering that it was Mr. Jones, maybe the kid is telling the
truth!"
"Ha, ha."
If teachers do discuss mutual problems seriously, it is
almost always for the purpose of getting quick answers to practical
problems or sharing information on how well some technique or procedure
works. For example, Mr. Jones might complain that his students just cannot
seem to learn how to use the Pythagorean Theorem, and Mr. Johnson may
suggest emphasizing which side of the triangle is the hypotenuse, or always
writing the square of the length of the hypotenuse alone on the left side
of the equation. Serious discussion among teachers about shared problems is
almost always limited to exchanging immediately practical information or
offering advice
[end page 270 / start page 271]
in which merits are not argued
theoretically. Despite my strong background in philosophy of education and
my continuing belief that philosophical reasoning about classroom
problems is interesting and often essential if a teacher is to be
intelligent and ethical about his work, I usually felt no distress about
participating in such mundane conversation, felt little need for
theoretical analysis at the time, and was frankly glad to receive whatever
practical advice I could get, albeit unsubstantiated.
Teachers simply do
not use theory when thinking about their own classroom problems or when
talking with other teachers informally. But surely we would expect teachers
and administrators to feel a need for theoretical guidance when formally
debating the official business of the school. Unfortunately, my experience
shows that this is not so. At meetings of the mathematics department, we
often discussed the need to include computer programming, basic
computational skills, and metric awareness in our courses, but we never
tried to justify or criticize the inclusion of these or other topics for
any reasons other than the fact that parents, administrators, school
committee members, or governmental policy required their inclusion. The
mathematics department developed an elaborate curriculum guide describing
each course's scope and content clearly so that a new teacher could teach a
course correctly by following the guide, but the department did not
consider whether new courses should be offered or old ones revised. The
chairman proposed to acquire new textbooks for some important courses, but felt no need to reconsider the purposes of the department or our overall
approach to education before deciding what books to order.
The principal
appointed a committee of well-respected teachers whose task was to
"upgrade" and "tighten" the graduation requirements, but it was considered
irrelevant to discuss the purpose of education or to describe what is meant
by a "well-educated person" in any terms other than how many years of what
subjects must be taken and how many credits must be earned each year for
promotion. The overall question of whether promotion and graduation
requirements should be increased was never debated by teachers or
administrators, because the back-to-basics mood of the times made it seem
obvious that such changes were needed. Eventually the school board voted
against the proposals, primarily because requiring students to take more
courses would require additional staffing or prevent the board from firing
the number of teachers indicated by declining enrollments.
A modified "open
campus" policy was in effect during my first year of teaching; students
were allowed to go outdoors and even away from campus during periods when
they were not taking classes. By my third year, sophomores were required
to sit in study hall during all unscheduled periods, and, in my fourth
year, juniors were also required to have study halls. Now, in my fifth
year, everyone has study halls, although seniors have their study hall in
the cafeteria and are allowed to talk with each other. Neither the original
decision to have an open campus nor the eventual
[end page 271 / start page 272]
phased-in reintroduction of mandatory study halls was seriously
debated. The campus had been opened in the first place only because the
community had voted down a tax increase that would have funded an addition
to the building, so there were too many students to fit into the
classrooms. As student population declined in the late 1970s, it became
possible once again to fit students into mandatory study halls.
Philosophical discussion of freedom, authority, responsibility, or the
purposes of education was never entertained. To the best of my knowledge,
names like Holt, Illich, Kozol, Rousseau, and Silberman were never
mentioned.
I am giving numerous examples showing how teachers and
administrators in my high school operate at a mundane level, either
unaware of or uncaring about the philosophical, historical, psychological,
and sociological theories that would have a bearing on practical problems.
My purpose in reciting this dreary litany is not to criticize my colleagues
as ignorant, insensitive, or incompetent. On the contrary, I have very
high regard for them. My colleagues are well-educated, concerned about
their students' academic achievements and personal well-being, and
constantly do extra work to improve their own competence and the school's
programs. My colleagues and my school are generally thought to be among the best in the region, as demonstrated by superior student performance on
standardized academic tests and by championship achievements in sports,
music, and community service. It is precisely because of the high quality
of my colleagues and the school that I feel upset about the lack of impact
of theory upon practice. If a good school operates at such a mundane
level, imagine how an average or below-average school must operate!
Virtually all teachers and administrators have taken one or more courses in
philosophical, historical, social, or psychological foundations of
education, but the courses obviously failed to make an impact on their
educational practices.
Many professors of philosophy of education may not
be aware that every accredited public high school (and every accredited
private or public college) has a document entitled "Philosophy and
Objectives" which is revised at least once every ten years and adopted
officially by the faculty or governing board. If such documents are
generated as a result of serious deliberation and careful procedures, they
should be regarded as treasure troves for philosophers of education.
Certainly courses in philosophy of education should examine some of these
documents, not only because their contents deserve study, but also to
provide obvious relevance between the college's theory course and what goes
on in the high school classroom. Yet many professors of education seem
unaware of these documents, and those who are aware of them regard such
statements as unworthy of study. Likewise, the high school teachers who
generate these statements are usually aware of their contents only at the
time they are being generated. During my third year as a high school
teacher, I participated as a member of a large committee whose task was to
develop the statement of
[end page 272 / start page 273]
the school's philosophy of education for the decennial self-study and reaccreditation. The accreditation guide-book states that the philosophy should be developed first and then used by , each department and self-study committee to criticize those practices that are at variance with the philosophy./5 The accreditation visiting committee is not allowed to criticize the school for what is espoused in the statement of philosophy, but can criticize only for failing to implement it. Thus, the administration and faculty initially felt that we should use the existing philosophy and modify it only as necessary to reflect actual current practices. The idea of developing a statement of ideal purposes and then revising the curriculum and
administrative policies to fit the new philosophy seemed revolutionary and
was not accepted. I did manage to collect about forty statements from
schools in other communities and used them to identify topics for
consideration. The newly formulated statement that resulted after several
months of committee work and several hours of debate at faculty meetings
is, I believe, clearer and slightly more idealistic than its predecessor.
However, the debates over the statement were notable for lack of
theoretical arguments. Almost all debating time was spent on technical
problems of wording or sentence construction, with little time devoted to
substantive disputes and almost no philosophical or historical
argumentation. The statement itself, like the forty obtained from other
communities, espoused goals such as helping each student to achieve his
or her maximum potential, to be happy and productive, and to accept
democratic decisions without loss of individual integrity.
Like the forty
statements obtained from other schools, however, our statement is
distressingly general and noncontroversial. It contains no theory of the
mind or of knowledge and no discussion of the characteristics of the good
life or the good society. The meaning of "potential" and the merits of
democracy were never seriously debated. Some schools conduct formal surveys of their communities to determine what goals the community deems most important, but my school never considered such a survey and did not have students or townspeople participate actively in formulating the statement. The self-study guidebook requires that a study be done of the demographic
and economic characteristics of the town and what becomes of the students
after graduation; however, our study of "school and community," which was
available before the philosophy was adopted, was not used in developing the
philosophy statement nor was it referred to when the faculty debated the
statement.
Parenthetically, we might observe that professors of philosophy
of education are usually at least as nontheoretical about their work as
elementary and secondary teachers. In faculty lounges, departmental
meetings, and even national conventions of the Philosophy of Education
Society, professors often prefer to talk about sports, national politics,
or faculty politics. When professors exchange views about philosophy of
education, they are like mathematics teachers discussing various theorems
or problem solving techniques: such discussions deal
[end page 273 / start page 274]
with the contents of their fields of expertise, but are not
theoretical discussions about educational practice.
Why should teachers at
the elementary or secondary level be expected to use or at least be aware
of philosophical arguments concerning what and how they teach when
professors of philosophy of education do not use and may not be aware of
philosophical arguments concerning what and how the professors teach? In my experience, professors of education use exactly the same ad hoc approach as high school teachers when determining curriculum content, teaching methods, or grading policies. When constructing a curriculum, professors generally do not consult their colleagues who are reputed to be experts on the theory of curriculum construction. When preparing for a self-study reaccreditation procedure, professors seem as unenthusiastic and
untheoretical about examining their own work as high school teachers would
be. Professors who advocate behavior modification or criterion-referenced instruction often fail to use these techniques in their own
courses. Do professors make an effort to identify the topics that would be
most important for teachers to study, or do they merely teach whatever
interests them or their students? Do professors establish policies on
departmental requirements on the basis of needs-assessments and
philosophical arguments or on the basis of politics and economic
expedience? Is theory consulted honestly to discover what should be done,
or is it only trotted out to rationalize politically or economically
ordained actions?
Perhaps the best recommendation I can offer to
professors of philosophy of education who want to increase the
marketability and perceived relevance of their courses and publications is
the following: examine your own courses, methods of teaching,
administrative policies, and purposes (both stated and undisclosed); then
begin constructing philosophical arguments about these things. Examine
carefully what types of philosophizing about these things seem most
interesting and most likely to influence what you do in practice. Observe
what makes you approach or avoid this task. Then recognize that you must
organize your course materials, teaching methods, and administrative
policies in such a way that the teachers and administrators who are your
students will be willing and able to do for themselves what you have been
doing for yourself. Let your students see that you are examining your own
activities and enlist their participation so that they learn by example to
do self-examination.
Professors of introductory philosophy of education
courses should establish their credibility and relevance at the start by
mentioning large numbers of specific problems in practical morality faced
by classroom teachers (a few were mentioned earlier), and beginning some
philosophical argumentation about each of them. Students might then be
asked to write their own arguments, or to state a tentative philosophy of
education and use it to support some arguments. One or two issues could
then be examined in depth so that students could discover what depth of
argumentation is and how to achieve it. One or two overall philosophies of
education (e.g., Plato,
[end page 274 / start page 275]
Dewey) might be
described, with constant indications of how those philosophies would
approach the previously-discussed issues. Finally, students could once
again be asked to state their overall philosophies of education and to use
them to argue some specific issues. At some point in the course, the
professor might offer philosophic arguments to support his or her own
selection of content for the course, grading practices, and departmental
policies.
I am opposed to the field-centered approach which insists that
foundations courses be closely linked to continuing classroom
observations or participations. Such a close linkage prevents the extended
examination of individual events that is necessary to develop theoretical
depth. Any college student has already had twelve years of classroom
experience from which to draw examples.
I am also opposed to the
neo-humanistic process approach which provides no predetermined content and which asks students to decide what they wish to study and to engage in
interpersonal relations or self-discovery activities as the focus of the
course. Such neo-humanistic foundations courses rarely discuss substantive
philosophical arguments, and students leave the courses feeling cheated
out of the intellectual growth one might expect from a college course,
regardless of the affective insights they may have had (or pretended to
have had). Somewhere in a teacher's education there must be help in
learning to work with ideas about working with people rather than only
working with people directly. That is, a theoretical component with some
depth is needed. Philosophical, social, and historical foundations of
education would seem to be the place for such content in the teacher
education program.
The purpose of this article is not to recommend a
lessening of the intellectual content of foundations courses, but to
recommend a strengthening of the explicitness with which the relevance to
practice is established. If teachers cannot be made to feel a need for
philosophical argumentation, there is no basis for including philosophy of
education as a required course in the teacher education curriculum.
Philosophy of education would then become an elective to be taken by
prospective teachers for appreciation or enjoyment or by liberal arts
students who have no intention of teaching. Such a course might be
intellectually stimulating, but would probably attract only a few students.
Notes
1. Since September 1975 1 have been a full time teacher of
mathematics at a medium sized public suburban high school. For eight years
before that I was assistant professor of philosophy of education at Oakland
University and Emory University, and associate professor at Boston
University. I have a Ph.D. in philosophy of education and have published
about forty articles in scholarly journals.
2. Kenneth R. Conklin, "The Relevance Problem in Philosophy of Education" (Ph.D. diss., University of Illinois, Urbana, 1967); summarized in Educational Theory 18 (Fall 1968): 356-64.
3. William K. Frankena, Three Historical Philosophies of Education
(Chicago: Scott Foresman and Co., 1965). Frankena describes each philosophy and each one's position on the relevance between philosophic theory and educational practice.
4. For example, see Gunnar Myrdal, An American
Dilemma (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1944).
5. Evaluative Criteria, 4th
ed. (Washington, D.C.: National Study of Secondary School Evaluation, 1969).
[end of article]
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