GROWTH, CHANGE, AND CHALLENGE

Nan Campbell

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. (Soren Kierkegaard)

I am a member of a cohort of teacher researchers. We fondly call ourselves ACT RES (action research). My work with ACT RES has afforded me the opportunity to carefully and thoughtfully examine the assumptions I hold regarding teaching, learning, curriculum and community. I am beginning to identify the reasons why I do certain things in the classroom. I am also learning to recognize the discomfort that occurs when my emerging sense of curriculum and community collides with systems deeply entrenched in our educational protocol. A system that Linda Darling-Hammond portrays as "a model grounded in the view of schools as bureaucracies run by carefully specified procedures that yield standard products (students) ( Darling-Hammond, 1993: 754)." Researching my own practice has become a journey to understanding what I value and why and how that translates into the creation of an environment that is rich in learning invitations, supportive of individual needs and responsive to the personal construction of meaning (Connelly and Clandinin, 1988: 26-27).

I am a middle years teacher piloting a curriculum project. The Interdisciplinary Middle Years Multimedia Project (IMYMP) has as its primary goal the integration of technology and multimedia into a classroom setting. The vehicle by which technology is to be integrated is a curriculum document entitled "A Prairie Tour." This document is mightily timelined, matrixed and learner outcomed. The five leg imaginary journey across the prairies has a proposed duration of five weeks. Further, each day of the journey is divided into 30, 45 and 60 minute lessons.

Accompanying the curricular materials is a hardware and software module for the classroom. The module is provided through a grant that is cost shared by the school division and the Department. It includes four workstations, video equipment, multimedia software, internet connections and a colour printer. The total value of the grant is approximately $30 000 dollars. Upon successful completion of the pilot project, the hardware and software will become the property of the school.

I often find myself asking the question, "Where do I fit in the grand scheme of this project?." After having met all the technical conditions, the school was awarded the grant based on the fact that I am a teacher with experience in "integration." My experience with technology and computers was limited to printing a few documents on my Mac at home. The project runs on a Windows platform. The other pilot teachers in IMYMP are advanced technophiles with a wealth of skills in the use of multimedia, most having created their own home pages on the Internet. In general, when the group meets for training, I feel as if I am in a foreign land. I don't understand the communication system and invariably, I leave our sessions with a throbbing headache.

The project is being monitored by two different bodies: the first being a group of Department consultants and the second an independent assessment team hired by the Department to evaluate the success of the project. Five weeks into the school year our class was to have a consultant come to spend the day with us. At four weeks our class had just cracked open the Prairie Tour binder. Up until that point we had spent our days familiarizing ourselves with the hardware and software housed in our class. I was preoccupied with establishing a comfort level that permitted both the kids and me to interact in meaningful ways with the computers and the many programs. I became obsessed with how little I knew and how much I had to teach myself in order to make a go of the "tour."

Beginning the Prairie Tour lessons was a harrowing experience for me and the kids. It seemed that every lesson was a foray into skills and content that none of us had ever had any experience with. The timeline became the enemy: a thirty minute lesson was taking us half a day to complete. When asked to write a story about one of their trips through the prairies… the vast majority of my students asked, "What's the prairies?" The first "integrated" math lesson involved estimating the volume of air in a car (the car they had traveled through the prairies in). The primary concern of the kids was not what is a cubic centimetre but rather do you measure that in inches? In my despair, I was losing sight of what was really happening in my classroom. I had forgotten about meaningful invitations, an environment that is grounded in the needs of the learner, I was abandoning the very same values that I was learning how to articulate in my ACT RES community.

After two days of "Prairie Tour" I came to my senses. "What are you allowing to happen here? What about the kids? What is more important -- the needs of the kids or a government document?" I had become so consumed by proving that I could master the technology, I forgot that I was responsible for a learning community of ten year olds. My students needed me to build bridges for them. They were situated in one reality and the "tour" was clearly situated in another. I arranged a field trip to the Living Prairie Museum.

At the site, we did a lot of videotaping with the intention of converting images of the prairie into computer graphics. The kids had a marvelous time! Here was the "real thing", tall grass, funnel spiders, rose hips and all! Upon our return to class all of the kids took out their journals and proceeded to write and draw about their experiences at the Living Prairie Museum.

"Joey, what was the name of that special berry?"
"How tall can Big Blue Stem grow?"
"I don't remember why they burn a part of the Living Prairie each year…do you?"
"Man! I've never touched a snake before that was totally cool."
"Let's ask Ms C. to show us the tape."

I hadn't even suggested that they take out their journals, I didn't need to. The authentic need to talk, write and draw was almost palpable that afternoon. Whereas our first attempt to write about the prairies was unsuccessful, now I couldn't have stopped the creative communication in the class even if I had wanted to.

The engagement didn't end that day. The students were divided into groups. Some were painting their impressions of the prairie, others were compiling a collection of poetry formatted using several sophisticated word processing techniques. Another started writing a shape book together and others were converting the videotape to graphic images that the whole class could use in documents. Each one of these curricular choices demanded that the students take some measure of risk.

In the poetry workshop, Darryl, a non-writer was exposing his vulnerability to the kids by asking for help with spelling and form. Others were teaching group members how to use the writing tools in the word processing program. The group experimenting with the video needed some support with the process… I waited until it was apparent that they were stuck… asked if I could be of some assistance… and after a three minute demo ( where I also made a few mistakes ) the kids felt as if they could handle the process and proceeded with confidence. The shape book group needed help with how to set up their pages for binding… off they went to find Louise, a paraprofessional, the expert.

These four groups were the natural outcome of an authentic, lived experience. The students had taken charge of the learning environment. I was the support person, the cheerleader, a living, breathing resource, but I was clearly not the centre of the learning community.

The groups shifted as each individual finished one project and moved to another. Within a day all of the multimedia stations were being used. One station was devoted to searching prairie sites on the internet , others were being used to publish poetry and stories and to research reports on plants and animals particular to the prairies. The emphasis had shifted from what is the teacher going to "teach" us today? to what questions do we have and what are the best ways to answer them? Kathy Short and Carolyn Burke describe this shift as moving to a Learning-Centered Curriculum.

If a curriculum is truly learning-centered, then that curriculum is based on inquiry and the search for questions that matter to us, whether we are adults or children….Without inquiry, a sense of purpose and meaning in learning is lost and our natural inquisitiveness as learners is deadened. Instead of studying topics to gain bits and pieces of information, we ask our own questions and engage in inquiry (Short & Burke 1991: 55).

There was something serendipitous about our trip to the museum. Two hours tromping through a piece of protected tall grass prairie spurred a whole class inquiry that was engaging, empowIreneg, enchanting, yet quite unexpected. If these same circumstances had occurred a year before ( I not yet a member of the ACT RES class) I feel quite certain that I would have encouraged the students to pursue their "mini-projects" (inquiry driven curriculum not then a part of my operative vocabulary). However, I would not have been able to confidently articulate the theory, philosophy or reasoning behind the decision. Today, I am constantly examining my practice and the decisions I make as they impact on the lives of the learners in the class (myself included).

How will I make this relevant for the kids? Is this activity an invitation or a road block? What resources can I round up to enrich this activity?

I have to talk to the class about this! Or, as Garth Boomer said,

What shall we teach and learn? How shall we teach and learn it? Why is it worth doing or why are we compelled to do it? (Boomer, 1987: 12).

Boomer expands his discussion of curriculum by proposing that any learning activity begin with negotiation. And the negotiation should lead the student and teacher in the same direction to the point that the curriculum is mutually owned and jointly planned (Boomer, 1987: 11).

Even though I had read the powerful works of many respected researchers I still had to take a figurative step away from the classroom, write and reflect in order to make sense of the events whirling around me. Furthermore, it was Friday and my Department consultant would be "visiting" on Monday. Over the weekend I met with my ACT RES class. I had a clear mission during our class…I needed to talk about the unfolding events in my class that week. I also needed some supportive conversation about my worries regarding Monday's visitation. As I have come to expect, the conversation was rich, informative and provocative. At one point on Saturday morning a colleague and I sat in a classroom by ourselves. We were discussing how to go about planning/preparing for a classroom inquiry. Dinah has had great success planning other inquiries for her class and I was able to glean many ideas for my own planning. We talked about many notions of inquiry driven curriculum. Dinah modeled for me how she might go about planning for a classroom inquiry. One powerful idea struck me as we worked together in that still, cool room on a Saturday morning: everything that had been troubling me over the past few months was about curriculum! In the "Prairie Tour" I was trying to assume the mantle of a project that called itself integrated curriculum. Based on my recent classroom experiences and my conversation with colleagues, I was developing a compelling "argument" about what is integration and what it is not. In fact, the conversation was so helpful, I could feel my own voice growing stronger. I was, in a sense, trying out the ideas and words that I felt I had to communicate to my consultant.

Well, Monday morning finally arrived. Irene the education consultant was in our midst. I had prepared the kids by letting them know that a visitor was coming to class. She was going to be able to help us with any questions or concerns we had about the technology project. I met Irene in the staffroom and we sat for a bit, having coffee and chatting about the project. When we entered our class, Irene asked where I would like her to sit for the "observation." I replied that I didn't think that she would have much opportunity to sit and before I could elaborate, "Oh Canada" had us all rise and sing. After announcements, we had a very brief business meeting: I make any announcements I deem necessary and the kids make any comments or announcements that they feel are important to the group. Without any further direction, everyone returned to the centres that they were involved with on Friday, everyone except Carolyn.

Carolyn is very new to EPS, in fact, she is new to school. Her family is living in Winnipeg temporarily while their baby boy receives treatment for a life threatening heart condition. Carolyn is a thoughtful, enthusiastic child who is bravely meeting the challenge of a new culture and a new language. In English, she is functionally illiterate. It has been fascinating watching how our community supports Carolyn's learning. The kids are very sensitive to her needs, many have clearly been paying attention as I work with Carolyn because they can often be heard using the same phrases that I do and employing the same strategies to include Carolyn in group activities. Irene was wandIreneg around in a "what am I supposed to do?" manner. Well now… two people who need something meaningful to do.

"Carolyn…", I beckoned. "Irene, can you come here please? Carolyn needs to finish her Prairie Journey story."
"Carolyn , what program do you think will be best for you to use?"
"I want to try Insp…Inspra…"
"You want to try Inspiration? I think that is a wise choice. How about if you and Irene go to station two and work on your story?"

Off they went to station two: Irene was a new member of our community. She was making a contribution that was important to a student member, as well, she was fulfilling her agenda by being able to closely observe the impact of technology on the learning lives of all of us. The morning proceeded in a typical way. Kids had problems to solve, we solved problems. Somebody was "hogging" the video camera, we worked out an alternative sharing plan. When we were confronted with a technical problem, Irene was able to lend a hand. In a nutshell, it was something akin to a dream morning. Not once did I mention "best behaviour" prior to Irene's entry into the class, the kids had better things to do. They were engaged, they had a purpose, they were involved in their own inquiry. Irene and I both stayed in for recess. These days the kids' response to the recess bell is generally, "I can't possibly go out right now… I'm in the middle of something important." Well, if they are in the middle of something… so am I. Irene and I both stayed with the class, troubleshooting when necessary. She showed me some applications for a few programs that I did not know about. The recess bell went and we all just continued working.

At 11:30, we gathered in a circle for sharing time. At this point anyone who is comfortable, is free to share some or all of what he/she has been working on. One group was eager to demonstrate how they had "taught themselves" how to grab images from the internet and store them in our class image bank. "Hey guys! look what we got for you! pictures you can use in ClarisWorks or even HyperStudio!" Ooo's and AaHh's. Carolyn asked her friend Anisa to read her prairie tale to the class. A few kids asked Carolyn how she produced her story. Carolyn and Irene were able to give an explanation that caused a general "I want to try that next time." Lunch bell rang. "Can we stay in for lunch recess?" I laughingly replied that today, for once, I needed to get some fresh air… and frankly, so did they.

"See you at one."
"What are we doing at one ?"
" Are we entIreneg our books into the database?"
" You got it! have a good lunch."
"Bye Irene…nice to meet you…thanks for the help."
"Thank you for having me boys and girls."

Irene and I sat at a secluded table in the staffroom. I was feeling very positive about the kids' experiences throughout the morning, but, I was somewhat apprehensive about what Irene would have to say. Furthermore, I didn't have a clue about what was going to come out of my mouth if I was challenged. Irene's first comment was all it took for me to find my voice.

"Nancy, I don't see much of the Prairie Tour curriculum being used."
"You know Irene, that has been a conscious choice on my part… based on the needs of the kids."
"Are you using any of the guide? It is well integrated across the curricula."
" Irene, that is where the Department and I disagree. I know that a great deal of thought and planning went into preparing the Prairie Tour. But my understanding of integration has been undergoing some change. This is not an integrated curriculum. It is an interdisciplinary document."
"Nancy, what is the difference -- integrated or interdisciplinary aren't they the same?"
"I used to think so, back in the days of "Theme Planning" I was the queen of theme. But some reading I've done and my relationships with my colleagues in my Master's course as well as taking a serious look at my own practice have led me to a firm belief in student negotiated inquiry as the real monument of integration. So, when it became apparent within the first two days of doing the tour "by the book" that my students had no experience to connect with the prairies we had to build an experience bank right away. From there, we have been proceeding based on the students' agenda. Surprisingly, we are applying the technology in even more sophisticated ways than outlined in the curriculum. I feel very strongly that this is happening because REAL INTEGRATION is a part of our Prairie Tour. The students are constructing their own knowledge. They are motivated by their need to know and their beliefs. I am here as a helping member of the community. Certainly I teach them and show them things they have never seen before but these students do the same for me."
"Come to think of it Nancy, I did notice that you have chosen to not use many of the handouts in the binder."
"Some of the formats of the handouts are useful…but I encourage the kids to develop their own note taking frameworks and their own presentation formats."
"You know Nancy…the Department is looking for someone to direct the writing of the grade six project. I think we are struggling because we are stuck in the old way of thinking about curriculum. Your ideas make sense. You can see it in the class."
"Irene, these are not my ideas necessarily…I've adopted them and gradually I am beginning to own them. The reason the class looks different from some others you may have observed is because the kids are the major stake holders in the community. They don't run the whole show…but they do have a significant say in what happens everyday. Regarding the Department I really don't have any interest in the writing project right now."

We said goodbye after lunch. The kids thought Irene was pretty nice and they said they would like her to come back some time. What about Carolyn? In a most unassuming way, I think she embodies the best that technology has to offer a classroom, maybe even society. Technology can offer invitations to engage in activities that might once have seemed impossible. In an environment that is supportive, "where ideas are for sharing" and where mistakes are viewed as stepping stones of learning…technology is a powerful tool. Carolyn wrote a story. She was proud of it. Carolyn wanted to share her story. Irene helped an illiterate child from Northern Manitoba compose a meaningful story using a very complex piece of software…there is a first time for every thing and everyone.

I have experienced no small measure of personal firsts since April of 1996, when the ACT RES program began. Right from the start, we were encouraged to look at teaching and learning from a "new" perspective: with "new" teacher/researcher lenses focused on our teaching and our learning. Our instructor suggested a data collecting device called critical incident. A critical incident is any thing, any utterance or action that causes the observer to pause and think "…Hmmmm….I need to take a look at this." The critical incident is quickly recorded on an index card using a few key words to capture the essence of what transpired. Later, the observer can refer back to the cards to survey the critical incidents, sort them if any emerging themes become apparent or, expand on a critical incident; bringing to life the story that sparked the wondIreneg, the …Hmmmm.

Eager and committed, I headed to the stationer's to purchase a lifetime supply of index cards and the appropriate Wedgewood blue filing box in which to store my precious incidents. Precious, indeed. Rare? absolutely! I had willingly dipped my toes in the ACT RES pond, yet I was having difficulty detecting so much as a critical ripple never mind incident. The incidents were not revealing themselves to me. The whole process of being attentive, on the alert for "the incident" was feeling like a hair shirt. Two weeks came and went and me with but three cards in my box, one with the phone number of a colleague on it ( the box seemed like a good place to store the number -- I had also discovered that the index cards were perfect for spur of the moment grocery lists).

Our ACT RES cohort was consistently encouraged to "just try." I thought I was trying but I was very impatient for a "real" incident to reveal itself to me.

April 16,1996 -- Daniel wants to read!
Big deal, by grade five one would hope that a child might want to read. But not Daniel. Daniel is an outgoing boy who gives new meaning to the phrase reluctant reader -- he struggles with reading and writing -- he hates them both! So why does my first critical incident card shout Daniel wants to read? The truth is I did not know that Daniel wanted to read to the whole class… We had been concentrating on using dialogue in story writing. During writing workshop each day, kids were encouraged to sign up for sharing their stories during group time. On the first day of this writing project, I asked all children to share a piece of their story. Everyone complied without any apparent hesitation, even Daniel. Three days went by, children wrote and shared. On the fourth day (April 16), Daniel came up to my desk and asked, "When is it going to be my turn to read ?" "Daniel, I thought you had your turn." I naively replied. "Only on the first day," he continued indignantly, "I thought that I got to read to the class every day. Haven't you looked at the chart? I put my name up there three more times, so when is it my turn?" Sure enough, Daniel's name was on the chart a total of four times. I hadn't been paying attention to the chart. I had been waiting for kids to ask if they could share, most of them would write their names down then check with me to ensure I knew that they wanted to share. I had completely missed Daniel's name. I caught myself in a very rusty assumption: I wasn't expecting much of Daniel. Overwhelmed by guilt and embarrassment I asked Daniel when he would like to read. He sat down in the sharing circle -- I invited the class to join him.
As the kids formed the circle I could hear comments such as: "Great! Daniel's story is the best. Did you hear him reading at recess? I wonder what the next chapter is about?"
"What next chapter? When at recess? What is happening here?" I pondered.
As Daniel began to read, it became clear that the class thought his story was very funny. At one point, Daniel paused and waited for the laughter to subside, he was beaming. Daniel had discovered the joy of writing and reading through the power of a rapt audience. I had been oblivious to the impact that his story had had on the class the first time he read, but the class was very tuned in to Daniel's humour and his "stand up comedian" style. I was blown away! Daniel continued to entertain the class with his continuing saga. When it came time to do some editing for publication, Daniel was somewhat indignant about the changes I proposed. The ensuing discussion revealed to me how much Daniel had invested in this story. He was very reluctant to change anything for fear of losing HIS IDEAS. "These are my ideas, I can't change them or they won't be mine anymore! It has to be funny or it won't be the same kind of story. The only thing I'll change is spelling because I did use a lot of words I don't know how to spell."

This brief classroom incident revealed two important things to me: When a student is personally motivated (engaged) he/she will take ownership for his/her own learning; When a student has a purpose, he/she will take risks that had previously been considered "too hard." Daniel's determination to read every day helped him to build the audience that inspired and motivated him. His reluctance to change his story in any way (supported by very plausible arguments as to why not) and his willingness to correct the invented spellings illustrate his profound sense of ownership for the writing.

So much out of one four -word critical incident card! As time passed and I became more intuitive about spotting those incidents that were critical to me, a powerful theme emerged as I sorted and stacked my cards…NEED TO KNOW. Daniel had discovered a need when he became an overnight sensation: he needed to write well in order to get the approval of his "fans." His personal motivation, not a directive from the teacher, drove him to write and to take risks using language that he had not previously used. He was fulfilling a personal need. I began to take note of others in the class who were exercising their need to know.

On June 8, 1996, I wrote a reflective piece for our ACT RES class. The following excerpt illustrates how teacher sensitivity to a student's need to know can build trust in the learning community.

We have been working on the theme of flight in the classroom. There has been a wide variety of activities for the students to choose from. At the beginning of the theme I asked the students to record their activities and findings in a "Flight log."
Many of the students immediately created a log for themselves but sure enough, there were a few who were neither interested nor inclined to set up a flight log. Two days later, Brian was "fooling around" with a paper air plane design. He was in the middle of testing his design when he exclaimed, " that's so cool!" I quietly asked him what was so cool and he proceeded to explain the affect "his wing design" had on the flight of a paper air plane. I suggested that his discovery was worthy of "logging" in his flight log. "What's a flight log?" he asked completely oblivious to the existence of such a thing.
"Remember the other day when kids were making little booklets?" I didn't need to say another word. Now that Brian had a "need to know", he was authentically motivated to create his log because he had a PURPOSE. He promptly went to the publishing centre and put together his own log. Motivation, purpose, meaningful questions… I will strive to bathe myself and my students in these essential elements.
The above incident had me dancing in the halls. It was so pure, so capturable and so real! Further to Brian.. he has been responding well to any suggestion I make. He positively beams when I sit beside him at his group or on the floor, following my gestures for an indication of where he should be orienting his eyes. This child is profoundly A.D.D. Just yesterday, on an all-day bus trip to the Whiteshell, he asked me (about one hour into the journey) if he could sit with me. This request was very unusual for such a "cool" guy. When the student teacher asked him if "Ms C. was making him sit at the front with her", Brain's response was, "No…it's just better sitting with her."
As I retrace the steps that I have taken thus far on my reflective journey, there is one day at the end of June,1996 that will remain vividly engraved in my memory. This child taught me about the value of respect and relationship.
Davis is a boy in my class who is a target for gang recruitment in the neighborhood. Needless to say, he also has several challenges in the classroom. Throughout the year, I have made many attempts to connect with this boy and his family. I had no real idea how successful or unsuccessful I had been until Thursday, June 13. In the morning, before classes had begun, the Vice-principal approached me to let me know that there had been a parent complaint about my student. The parent threatened to call the police. The Vice-principal and I agreed that I needed to have a conversation with Davis. (We had already informed the community police officer that he was at risk. The officer and Davis had had an informal meeting at which time he was reassured that the police were there to help him and his family. The police officer made it clear that Davis would be "watched" to ensure that he was making wise choices and that he was safe.) That afternoon, I approached Davis and asked if we could speak privately. I related the facts to him. I reminded him about some of the things that he and the police officer had discussed. He became very agitated and rushed to the cloakroom. My first concern was that he was going to run from the school. But, I found him, instead, huddled in a corner like a terrified fawn. He had tears in his eyes. I decided to whisper to him and I proceeded to mirror in words how frightened he looked and how angry he must have been feeling. I only spoke for a minute, then I went to my desk to get my journal. At this point, the other students had "free choice" and they seemed oblivious to the situation. I sat on the floor of the cloakroom and journaled for about fifteen minutes. I turned to Davis and asked him if "it" was getting better or worse. He quietly responded that "it" was a bit better. I continued to write for ten more minutes. I stood up and spoke to the class asking them to make a transition to a Math activity. I wrote the instructions on the overhead and returned to the cloakroom. Crouching down, I carefully put my hand on the boy's shoulder. I told him that we were going to do a Math activity that I knew he would find "easy." I told him that if he would take his books to the front group area, we could sit on the floor and work together. Without hesitation he rose from the cloakroom floor and prepared himself to begin the activity with me. The class worked in groups and I worked with Davis .Within ten minutes he had completed two problems and was working independently. He lay on the floor at the front of the room until he had completed the whole page. He even wrote complete sentence answers for the "comparative price" exercises. His work was neat, tidy and very accurate. The reason I comment on the quality of the work is because his work is often inaccurate and untidy. I believe very strongly that the time I took to "connect" with this boy, helped him to ease gracefully back into the class activity. He was able to concentrate and attend to the task at hand because he was calm enough and prepared to engage. My critical incident with Davis was not yet over. The same evening was the school community barbecue. I was volunteIreneg behind one of the food tables when I spotted him out of the corner of my eye. He was alone. I wandered over to him and asked if he had come with anybody else. He had come alone because his mother and little brother were at home sick. I queried if he had any money to buy food tickets. No…his mom didn't get her cheque until the next week. I asked him if he would allow me to buy some tickets for him. "Sure thanks." After giving Davis enough tickets for his dinner (quizzing him to verify that he knew how many tickets he would need) I had to leave to attend another function. Just before I left the school Davis came running up behind me. "Hey Ms C…C…Campbell! Sometimes I think you're the only one who really cares about me."

It is so profound to me that by just being a teacher, I have the power and position to affect the lives of so many. Reflecting on my day with Davis allows me examine the balance of power in our relationship. While he was in a state of crisis, I tried to exercise respect for his plight, I also tried to offer him a way back into the class that offered him some dignity. When he appeared to be alone, needing a friend, I tried to pose my questions in a matter of fact fashion to avoid any embarrassment. His parting words that night will stay with me always. Just today, January 7, 1997, I learned in the office that Davis had to transfer out of our school. His mother could no longer "handle" Davis or his little brother, they were moving to their father's. At 3:25 PM I was busily doing agenda checkup with my class when Davis marched into the room. I actually had not seen him for several weeks. He rushed toward me and put his arms around me. "I'm going to miss you the most," and with those words he fled down the hall, in tears.

I often find myself caught in the middle of a volatile conflict. It is as if I am waging war with myself about what really counts in the learning community. Garth Boomer would have asked "Is it worth it?" Right now I must content myself with the idea that a living and growing community of learners is comprised of many elements:

• there must be respect for the individuals as well as the group;
• there should be meaningful connections between the teacher and the students;
• learning must be authentic, inquiry based, rich with need to know invitations;
• a balance of power is essential to the community.

I continually struggle with balance in the classroom. Sometimes I feel responsible for running the whole show…the students cast in the role of dutiful, high performance pawns. Yet other times I am inclined to let the students take more than their fair share of power, essentially dictating what they think should happen in the class. This is all about the "organic" nature of teacher research: ever growing, ever changing, ever challenging. I, as a teacher, am all for growth, change, and challenge!

Boomer, Garth 1987 Addressing the Problem of Elsewhereness. In Goswami, Dixie and Peter Stillman (Eds) Reclaiming the Classroom: Teacher Research as an Agency for Change. Portsmouth NH: Boynton/Cook Publishers.

Connelly Michael& Jean Clandinin 1988 Narrative: Your Personal Curriculum as a Metaphor for Curriculum and Teaching. In: Teachers as Curriculum Planners: Narratives of Experience. New York: Teachers College Press.

Darling-Hammond, Linda 1993 Reframing the School Reform Agenda -- Developing Capacity for School Transformation. Phi Delta Kappan, June: 753-761.

Newman, Judith M. 1991 Interwoven Conversations: Learning and Teaching through Critical Reflection. Toronto: OISE Press.

Short, Kathy and Carolyn Burke 1991 Creating Curriculum : Teachers and Students as a Community of Learners. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann Educational Books.

White, Connie 1992 Jevon Doesn't Sit at the Back Anymore. Toronto: Scholastic.