MIAMI UNIVERSITY the Graduate School Certificate for Approving the Dissertation

MIAMI UNIVERSITY The Graduate School

Certificate for Approving the Dissertation

We hereby approve the Dissertation of Terry A. Scott

Candidate for the Degree: Doctor of Philosophy

______Co-Director Co-Director Dennis Carlson David Berg ______Reader Tammy Schwartz ______Reader Raymond Terrell ______Reader-Graduate School Representative Brian Keane

______Dissertation Mentor Don Kaufman

ABSTRACT

NATURALLY OUTSPOKEN: EXAMINING THE IMPACT OF INSIDE AND OUTSIDE SPACES ON RURAL APPALACHIAN CHILDREN‘S SCIENCE DISCOURSE

By Terry A. Scott

This ethnographic dissertation focuses on the impact of inside and outside learning spaces on the discourse of rural, Appalachian fifth grade children during a five month period. Outside discourse was especially examined during a month-long stream-monitoring unit. The project also focused on how the children‘s Appalachian culture influenced their discourse. The theoretical framework of this study was social constructivism. Data for this sociocultural project was gathered through field notes, audiotapes, and informal student interviews with selected students. Secondary data included photographs of the children and the places where the conversations occurred during the data collection in addition to family photographs of the children or family members in or near streams. Data was collected from January through the beginning of June, 2007. A constructivist grounded theory approach to data analysis was utilized during and after the data collection period. This study of a particular group of Appalachian fifth graders led to insights about the dialogic relationship between space, culture, and practices of doing problem-based science.

NATURALLY OUTSPOKEN: EXAMINING THE IMPACT OF INSIDE AND OUTSIDE SPACES ON RURAL APPALACHIAN CHILDREN‘S SCIENCE DISCOURSE

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to the Faculty of Miami University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Departments of Educational Leadership and Zoology

Terry A. Scott Miami University Oxford, Ohio

2007

Dissertation Directors: Dennis Carlson and David Berg Dissertation Mentor: Donald Kaufman

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 1 A Vignette...... 2

Background ...... 3

Goals of the Study ...... 5

Significance of the Work ...... 6

Research Questions ...... 8

Methodological Overview ...... 9

Evolution of the Project...... 10 Situating Myself as the Researcher ...... 10 An Interdisciplinary Perspective ...... 11

Delimitations ...... 12

Definitions of Key Terms ...... 13

Chapter 2: The Literature Review ...... 17 Introduction ...... 17 The History of Science Curricular Reforms in the United States ...... 19 1950s – 1960s…Modernity and Space: The Final Frontier...... 19 1970s…Science Education and Culture Meet Head On ...... 21 The 1980s… Capitalism and Science Education ...... 22 The 1990s…A Quiet Crisis in Science Education ...... 26 2000 and Beyond… The Impact of No Child Left Behind ...... 28 Constructivist Learning Theory ...... 31 Finding Space for Constructivism...... 31 Classroom Examples and Each Type of Constructivism ...... 33 Social Constructivism ...... 35 Social Constructivism and Schooling ...... 37 Creating Social Constructivist Learning Environments ...... 38 Children’s Discourse and Science Discourse ...... 40 Vygotskian Discourse in Science ...... 41 Sociocultural Paradigms and the Discourse of School Science ...... 45 Discourse as Communication and Meaning Making ...... 47

A Specific Way of Knowing: Classroom Scientific Discourse ...... 49 Apprenticeship Model Theory and Discourse ...... 50 Research on Adult Apprenticeship Models...... 50 Apprenticeship and School Settings ...... 52

Research Studies of Science Discourse ...... 54 Student Talk, Learning and Sense-Making ...... 55 Current Sociocultural Perspectives in Science Education ...... 58 Talk As Arbitrator of Classroom Culture ...... 61 Classroom Discourse Learning as a Context for Learning and Development ...... 65

Influences of Science Discourse...... 66 Authoritative Discourse ...... 67 Language as the Cultural Gatekeeper to Doing Science...... 70 Appalachian Culture and Identity Formation ...... 74 Appalachian Culture in Education ...... 76

American Rural Schooling: An Overview...... 80 The Demography of Rural Schools ...... 80 Financial Challenges Facing Rural Schools...... 81 More Challenges Facing Rural Schools ...... 82 Characteristics of Rural Schools: Demographics ...... 82 Taking Things Inside Out: Learning and Teaching in the Out-of-Doors ...... 83 Citizen Science as Ecological Education ...... 85 Stream Water Quality Monitoring ...... 91 Three Stream Water Quality Assessments ...... 92 Rural Geography: Place and Space...... 94 Conclusion ...... 96

Chapter 3: Methodology ...... 98 Introduction Overview ...... 98 The Project ...... 98 Interpretive Inquiry ...... 100 Why Ethnography? ...... 100 Grounded Theory ...... 101 Constructivist Grounded Theory: In Theory ...... 102 Constructivist Grounded Theory: In Practice ...... 103 Participants/Setting...... 104 Researcher Role: Situating the Researcher ...... 105 Participation/Observation: Seeing Data from Both Perspectives ...... 105 iii

Access and Selection ...... 108 Data Sources ...... 109 Field Notes...... 110 Reflexivity and Reflexive Journaling ...... 111 Children’s Science Journals ...... 111 Photographs ...... 112 Research Goals ...... 113 Constructivist Grounded Theory: Revealing Many Layers of Meaning...... 115 Trustworthiness ...... 115 Ethical Concerns ...... 117

Chapter 4: The Ethnographic Account ...... 118

Description and Cultural History of the Area ...... 119 Description of Grant County ...... 119 Culture and Grant County ...... 120 Appalachian Migration into Southwestern Ohio ...... 121

The Spaces ...... 122 The Country Dale School District and ―THE TEST‖...... 122 The Country Dale Middle School Campus ...... 125 The Classrooms ...... 127 The Science Classroom...... 127 The Mathematics Room ...... 128 The Citizenship Room ...... 130 The Intervention Room ...... 131 Day One: So begins the tale...... 131 Day Two, Tuesday, March 27, 2007: Becoming a Cultural Detective ...... 152 The Science Club ...... 158 Day 3… Friday, May 11, 2007: Doing Citizen Science ...... 160

Chapter 5: Research Findings and Discussion ...... 173 The Goals of the Chapter...... 173 Analyzing the Data ...... 174 Assumptions Going In ...... 175

The Data Collection Begins: Inside Spaces ...... 179 The Science Room ...... 179 First Photographs: Cultural Relationships Begin to Emerge ...... 190 Multiple Discourses: Does Space Matter? ...... 193 The Mathematics Room ...... 195 The Social Studies Room ...... 200

Inside Spaces Conclusion ...... 205

The Outside Learning Spaces...... 205 The Stream Unit Begins ...... 205 Appalachian Children and a Connection to Place ...... 207 Appalachian Children and a Connection to the Social ...... 211 Appalachian Children and a Connection to Animals ...... 215

The Interview Assignment ...... 219 Growing Up with a Strong Sense of Place and Tradition ...... 221 Nostalgic Ecology and Stream Health ...... 226 The Stream Inquiry Experience ...... 229 The Final Presentations ...... 237

Implications and Discussion ...... 241

Culturally Aware Community Building: An Initial Discussion about Teachers ...... 246 Discourse Documentation: Mirror on Teacher/Child Action ...... 247 Multiple Voices Sharing Meaning in Multiple Spaces...... 249 Shared Meanings: Affecting Others and Leading to Action...... 251 Revealing Intentions: Alternative Views of Teaching and Learning ...... 252

Implications for Professional Development ...... 254

Chapter 6: Conclusions and Implications ...... 257 The Mosaic of Language ...... 257

The Problem ...... 258 Discoveries and Border Crossings ...... 258 Cultural Deficit or Cultural Advantage?...... 259

Some Solutions ...... 259

Changing Attitudes ...... 260 Cultural Competence, Narrativity, and Teaching ...... 260 Teachers Must Acknowledge All Culture ...... 262

Changing Spaces and Crossing Borders...... 264 The Stream Curriculum ...... 266 Taking Children Outside...... 268 A Stream Mosaic ...... 269 My Mosaic ...... 270

References...... 275

DEDICATION

Dedicated to my mentor, Don Kaufman; To my parents, Wilson and Barbara Scott; And to my dogs Olive and Clifford.

Don Kaufman continually modeled true transformative leadership for me. Wilson and Barbara Scott‘s patience saw me through yet another doctoral program. Olive and Clifford ―invited‖ me into outside spaces twice-daily on our park walks.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Jen Barber, Cecilia Berg, Dave Berg, Dennis Carlson, Lauren Chandler, Julianne Comerford, Barbara Hamilton, Lillian Hawkins, Kristen Herrold, Brian Keane, Melody Newman, Carol Ogden, Tammy Schwartz, Ray Terrell, Karen Vome, Lisa Weems, and Mike Wright.

I want to especially thank Miami University‘s departments of Zoology and Educational Leadership for providing me with the financial resources that allowed me to undertake such a nontraditional research project.

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Chapter 1: Introduction

We become not a melting pot, but a beautiful mosaic. Different people, different beliefs, Different yearnings, different hopes, different dreams.

Jimmy Carter Former President of the United States

In this ethnography, I describe and interpret the shared school discourse of rural fifth grade children living in a northern Appalachian community in southwest Ohio. I collected data over a five-month period in the multiple spaces where the children conducted science —both inside the classroom and out in the field. My work with the children culminated in a one-month stream monitoring science unit. Thus, my research included the following components: I identified a group of 20 children of Appalachian descent; I observed the children in various settings from January through May of 2007; and I acted as a participant researcher when I taught the month-long stream monitoring unit in May. During that unit, I led the fifth graders in performing three traditional stream assessments— chemical, macroinvertebrate, and stream habitat. These assessments served as the basis of the curriculum at three streams in the community. The students also conducted an inquiry investigation on the stream at their school. I used a sociocultural perspective of learning and communication to analyze the discourse that I observed and recorded throughout this project I will first introduce a realistic vignette to situate this study in this chapter. I will then show how my initial observation of the children in my study influenced clarification of the study itself. I then describe the project‘s evolution as I situate myself as the researcher. Next, I describe the background of this project and I will explain the professional significance of the study. I also identify the critical questions and summarize the methodology. I conclude the chapter by indicating the delimitations and defining specific terms used in this report.

A Vignette

Martha‘s hope, again, is fading that her fifth graders will meet the state‘s expectation of a passing science test score this year. As she sits after school in February grading the practice tests in her classroom in Southwestern Ohio, she wonders if any of her students care as much as she does about this test. It seems it all rests on her shoulders. She looks out the window to see two of her students throwing ice chunks into the frozen creek that runs past her school. The boys aggravate the now cracked frozen ice—like the jagged tiles in a mosaic—with carefully selected pieces. With every lob, the mosaic shifts and changes. ―Why can‘t they spend as much time thinking about constructing correct food chains and pyramids as they do about that creek?‖ She stops herself from yelling down to them but instead she flips through the mail recently delivered from her office mailbox. On pink stationery is the following note written in purple pen. ―Martha…You‘ll be getting a new student tomorrow from a rural district in Kentucky who has not been identified with any special needs so, she‘s all yours. I know you‘ll bring her up to speed by March; smiley face, signed B.‖ Everything from her principal had a smiley face as if this was all fun and games but the pressure to pass all students seems, at times, far from game-like. She felt a twinge, perhaps brought on by anger, in her right shoulder. Martha immediately remembered the conversation she had with Bonnie yesterday regarding another student who was excessively absent and how Bonnie flatly told her that it‘s not the student‘s fault she doesn‘t want to be in Martha‘s class, but it was in fact Martha who wasn‘t motivating her class to attend school. Bonnie‘s much publicized and lauded ―can-do‖ philosophy of school success is really ―will do or else‖, Martha thought. Martha‘s mood sunk even deeper at the thought of a new rural student. Rural meant transient and more often, poverty. Rural students didn‘t know standard English, let alone scientific discourse, Martha acknowledged, but if anybody could get a child to ―talk the talk‖, she knew she could. She had just three weeks to ensure the child could grasp five years of science. Martha couldn‘t wait to begin her science indoctrination process. She used to be a good science

teacher before the tests, so she tells everyone. She used to study science all around the school—inside and outside—when she had more time, but those days are past. She has to do too much too fast so all of the ―fluff‖ is gone. Martha should probably just as well put in more hands-on science, she thinks as she continues grading. Maybe her students would pass more often. They just come from such diverse backgrounds. Her principal doesn‘t understand when they score low every year. It‘s not possible to teach all of this content to all of these students while doing science the students feel connected to let alone like. As she added more state mandated science vocabulary to her now overly-crowded word wall, Martha actually felt a twinge in her right shoulder as she became more depressed. The pressure is again, as always, from the right. It is all on her shoulders.

Background Embedded in this vignette based on real people with whom I have worked and actual events I have personally experienced is the unfortunate realism faced by public school children and teachers today. While school administrators feel increased pressure to pass state science tests, teachers conversely struggle to meet district expectations by doing what seems a best practice…tell more, do less. In doing so, most student individualization in instruction is replaced with one standardized mode of instruction echoing the belief that one size fits all. Teachers, however, are not largely to blame. They are the ones who know what must get accomplished throughout the testing year. Unfortunately for the students, certain groups are being left behind. In an age of national standards and globalization, because students learn differently, those students who live their lives at the margin of society and not actually within the margins (Barton, 2003) continue to score poorly on achievement tests. Likewise, these students have the highest rate of school failure. Rural Appalachian children are overlooked and often ridiculed learners. This cultural population has an alarmingly high dropout rate from high school, often upwards of 55% (Obermiller, et. al., 2000). While attentions focus on urban science reform, rural schools and their students have increasingly failing test scores in mathematics and science (Harmon, Henderson,& Royster, 2003; Louckes-Horsley, 2003; Abell, Boone, Arbaugh, Lannin, Beilfuss, &

Volkmann, 2007; Hall & Hord, 2006). These children, many who live in poverty, also face local environmentally- related issues on a continual basis. Such issues in Ohio include rural roadside dumping of garbage, strip-mining runoff pollution, and non-point stream pollution. In this study, I assert that the definition of scientific literacy needs to be reconsidered if all groups are going to contribute to scientific problem-solving in the future. In addition, the way scientific literacy is taught in schools needs to change as well. This project attempts to challenge traditional notions of scientific literacy as it probes deeper connections between science and those who study it, and those who construct it. I began this challenge as I determined how rural fifth grade students‘ discourse was shaped by where the discourse occurred. I conducted an ethnographic study for the dissertation project that required me to ―locate [myself as a] researcher in the world‖ (Denzin & Lincoln, 2003, p.4), and in this case, ―the world‖ is the entire school environment—inside and outside. I already knew how my former teaching colleagues interpreted the experience of ―teaching to the test‖ in this age of accountability, but I was passionately curious to determine what sense rural students made of such an experience. I was especially seeking answers regarding how rural children negotiated the learning process, and how their ―ways with words‖ (Heath, 1983) contributed to the culture of learning. I principally wanted to begin observing how the children negotiated science by studying their discourse. I visited the children in September in preparation for the observation beginning in January. The children sat quietly, almost robotically, as the teacher began talking. During this inquiry on seed growth, the teacher attempted to challenge the students in higher order thinking; however, every class member—without exception—waited dutifully for the ―correct answers.‖ I immediately began to worry about my dissertation. How could I collect data on student discourse when the students weren‘t talking? Fortunately, as the students finished their journal entries, things began to change. One by one, the children started coming over to the table with the classroom pets (a turtle, a tree frog, and some beetles). Without coaxing, they began telling me about the animals they had at home or the animals they had seen in the wild near their homes. The conversations the children started with each other and with me grew to include comparisons of where these animals lived in relation to where they, themselves, lived.

Before I knew it, I was surrounded by eager children, all of whom wanted to share personal stories that centered on the places where they preferred being outside of school and this classroom. These ―spaces‖ included fields, woods, ponds, creeks, and farmyards. Unfortunately, there was no mention of school as one of the spaces. Despite the children‘s reserved nature in school, they had much to offer in regard to talking about science and the ―spaces‖ where science occurs. (Field notes, September 13, 2006)

The purpose of this initial visit was to become acclimatized to the school culture. Of the many intriguing questions that arose from this initial visit, I focused on those that relate to knowledge construction, sense making, and authoritative voice in doing science in school. This focus guides my examination of existing studies and my own research into how rural Appalachian children learn and speak about science. This project represents a discrete examination focusing on how one group of rural Appalachian students talks about science and how being outside affects that talk.

Goals of the Study  Examine the impact of doing science inside and outside on children's discourse. During the stream monitoring unit, as students engaged in scientific data collection and interpretation, I devoted special attention to the spaces where the science was completed. The children conducted science in the classroom, other classrooms other than the science classroom, on the 127-acre outdoor laboratory, and in local streams on the school property and in the community. Throughout the entirety of this project, space was privileged over time.  Explore how the children's culture influences their science discourse. As the children engaged in activities, I sought cultural cues that signified sense making and the sociocultural construction of knowledge. Students were encouraged to ―do science‖ in ways that made sense to them.

Significance of the Work The design, implementation, and analysis of this study are rooted in theoretical connections between the children's discourse and the ecological stream experiences during the practices of (a) conducting science in multiple spaces and (b) using many instructional methods during the stream unit. Further, the study is rooted in connections between (a) the role of language through cultural negotiation and in the sociocultural development of a shared science discourse, and (b) the ecologically-based stream assessment practices of the identified Appalachian children. I will identify the key links in the literature review. These links demonstrate that rich and varied language experiences within a community of learners mediate the activity of learning (Vytgotsky, 1978), and engage children in the social and cultural work of science (Cobern & Aikenhead, 1998; Gallas, 1995; Lemke, 1990, 1993, 2000). Such connections contribute to the significance of this study as they are the basis for the description and interpretation of socially interactive science events. From this analytical perspective toward the life of this community of learners, I plan to offer a useful and integrated view of science discourse and to contribute to an ongoing discussion in both science and ecological education. My goal is to build upon the fundamental links between Appalachian children's discourse and their continued negotiation of science discourse and how conducting science both inside and outside contributes to these connections. Also, as little research has been conducted on rural Appalachian students and science discourse, this study can contribute to the further understanding of Appalachian identity. The project explores the central question of what constitutes ―valid‖ scientific knowledge. By including the voices of rural Appalachian children and by valuing their unique experiences, the project allows this marginalized group to contribute to developing theories related to culture and science discourse. This study uses the constructing of mosaic as a metaphorical image related to social constructivism. Like mosaic, which makes use of many different pieces of ceramic tile, I assert that meanings emerge from both spoken and written language formed by a collective experience. When multiple experiences occur, so does knowledge construction in the form of collective sense-making. Mosaic is often a work in progress using often irregular and discarded ceramic pieces that alone, hold little value. Not all ceramic pieces,

or tesserae, are valued by the artist and subsequently included in the mosaic. I was curious to determine if artisan teachers included all voices from the many children in their classroom collections. Whereas this project began with an emphasis on children‘s discourse, I realized in the field that the teacher‘s discourse became a tremendous contributing factor to the discourse of the children. In addition to this integrated perspective of space, rurality, culture, and scientific discourse, the study is professionally significant because of its focus on the construction of a discourse that is familiar to teachers of science to young learners—conducting inquiry experiences for children during a thematic science unit. What makes this unit unlike many curricular science units is that occurs in many outside spaces and involves a substantial amount of risk-taking on the part of the teachers and students. In addition to pedagogical matters, this project has curricular implications for science education, the paramount of which is taking children outside more often. For many, open space promotes physical and mental freedom. Currently, how often during a school day do children have this sort of flexibility to develop their critical thinking and thought processes? Built upon the discourse of children in both inside and outside spaces, the findings from this research and the sociocultural perspective through which I have examined Appalachian children's discourse during stream inquiries could be useful to other science educators and to curriculum developers at making standards-based and learner-centered decisions. Descriptions of particular incidences of classroom interaction about, with, and through a particular stream inquiry methodology, along with my interpretations of these interactions as a teacher researcher, may involve readers of my research report to not only live through these ecological experiences but also to reflect on their own. By understanding how children talk about science in the places they do science, teachers can also apply my findings to various pedagogical environments. As Gee suggests (2005a), we have multiple discourses used in multiple settings and for multiple reasons. ―Discourse,‖ capital D, is the entire discourse we have with one another; in addition to conversations and dialogue, Discourse signifies ―language plus other stuff‖ (2005a) including actions, interactions, objects, tools, and places during the discourse and related activities. The other ―discourse,‖ lowercase d, signifies the conversation and talk

used to enact and recognize different identities in different settings. Children‘s ―at-home‖ discourse varies greatly from their ―at-school‖ discourse. Further, the way they talk at school during casual experiences, such as sporting events and recess, differs widely from how they communicate in more formalized spaces, including classrooms. But what if the classroom is an outside open space? In this light, new questions emerge about this process of negotiation. If children are comfortable in this outside open space, is their discourse affected? Moreover, how do marginalized children sacrifice their cultural identity when they adopt the dominant scientific discourse of the traditional classroom (Gee, 2005b)? In other words, when school activities are being conducted in outside spaces during structured and semi-structured experiences, what discourse do children use as they construct meaning socioculturally?

Research Questions The purpose of the study was to describe and interpret Appalachian children‘s discourse during a stream monitoring unit that involved both classroom and field work curricular experiences. Data collection and analysis were based on the following questions: 1. How do particular spaces affect children‘s discourse during a problem-based curricular unit? How do outside spaces, in particular, inform this discourse?

2. How does the Appalachian cultural identity of these children inform this discourse?

3. How does the type of science inquiry influence this discourse? Specifically, how do children talk during ―citizen science‖ monitoring versus inquiry-based science?

4. How does the curriculum and pedagogy influence students‘ discourse about science?

5. What assumptions do I have as a teacher/researcher as I approach the study?

The questions relate to the process of language negotiation and sociocultural activity and are based upon a theoretical perspective that I will discuss in chapter 2. In chapter 3, I will describe the methodology used in this study and explain the relationship between the sociocultural theory and the questions addressed. Below is a brief description of the theoretical perspective I use along with an overview of the type of research this study represents and the methods used.

Methodological Overview I have discussed throughout this introduction the role that connections across disciplines and theories have played in the background and the critical questions of the study. The particular framework through which I have identified these connections is through Charmaz‘s constructivist grounded theory (2006) for observing and identifying the sociocultural activity of which I am a part. I will further discuss this framework in the literature review. Constructivist grounded theory research acknowledges that reality is relative and is co-constructed by the researcher. I will also make use of this framework later in structuring a description of the methodology and in presenting the findings of the study. Charmaz‘s perspective is especially suited to observe sociocultural sense-making during formal and non-formal science experiences. Due to this theoretical perspective, I employed qualitative methods of data collection and an interpretive analytical stance for this naturalistic study. The critical questions addressed in the study reflect an interpretivist paradigm and consequently required careful observation of numerous face-to-face interactions over time (Glesne, 1999). The purpose of this long-term examination was to create a picture, or tell a story of one specific group of Appalachian children's culturally-situated construction of a discourse of science. The particular group involved in this study was a group of 20 children in one fifth grade team of three classes. I identified them by their elaborations on family vacations and where they visited relatives out-of-state within the Appalachian mountain region. The children attended a rural middle school in Grant County, Ohio near my current home. I developed elaborated field notes over the five month and by transcribing relevant audio recordings of these children throughout this data collection period, I included the relevant transcriptions as themes emerged in the data. I also maintained a reflexive journal throughout the five months. I analyzed the children‘s written language—field notebooks, interviews they conducted, sketches, and other writing opportunities— during that same time in addition to taking photographs of the children during the unit. Artifactual photographs of the children and their families at streams were collected and digitally scanned to add to the richness of the data. I will report and discuss findings from these analyses of the qualitative data in chapters 4 and 5 of this dissertation.

Evolution of the Project Like most projects, this project has undergone an evolutionary process from its original inception to the final and current phase. I will describe this process briefly as I believe it will be useful in better understanding how the dissertation has formed. As this project has been interdisciplinary from its inception, I will pay special attention to the fusing of the three involved departments—zoology, educational leadership, and teacher education. All names throughout this report are pseudonyms and the majority of the main participants in the study chose their own pseudonym. As this project uses the constructivist grounded theory approach to data collection and analysis, I will briefly situate my background and describe how my experiences have contributed to the development of the study.

Situating Myself as the Researcher

I grew up in a suburban neighborhood in western Grant County, Ohio. This county borders the Ohio River in southwestern Ohio. I frequently spent time at my grandmother's rural farm further east in the county. Since I was active in showing cattle at the Grant County 4-H Fair, I spent every summer interacting in the mode of ―seasonal rurality.‖ This continued exposure to ―all things rural‖ from an early age contributed to my constant awareness of cultural differences and would later directly serve me as I sought a research project topic. Having spent the majority of my teaching career in urban and suburban schools, I entered this doctoral program knowing that I wanted to work with rural children. After I discussed the study with committee members, I narrowed the audience to the specific culture of rural Appalachian children. I focused on children of Appalachian descent for many reasons. Personally, both sides of my family lineage can be traced to the Eastern Kentucky region of the Appalachian Mountains. Every one of my childhood friends shared this same linkage to the mountain region of eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. As a child, I naïvely thought that all Grant County residents once lived in this geographic region. I learned from an early age that schooling equaled assimilating as I observed a striking correlation between those students who successfully adapted to the mainstream curriculum and those who did not. As a third generation Appalachian immigrant, I lived in a world where personal culture was ignored. Like many of my friends in school, my two siblings and I were systematically mainstreamed

and homogenized so that our past cultural upbringing was devalued while we were immediately rewarded by our teachers for acquiring the skills necessary to "make it" in that modern society. Unfortunately, many of my friends who did not adapt successfully eventually were tracked into the lowest of three curricular tracks in my school district. The lower track students actually functioned independently of the other more academic teams. From the sixth grade on through high school, those students who couldn't embrace mainstream educational values did not interact again with those of us who could adapt successfully. Professionally, I was also greatly influenced by my previous teaching position prior to entering this doctoral program. I taught in an urban Appalachian district near Cincinnati. I learned quickly that the many Appalachian learners I taught had unique contributions in all subjects, including science.

An Interdisciplinary Perspective

The project continued to evolve when I met with zoology faculty members on the dissertation committee. We decided to focus on stream monitoring with these rural learners. We also determined that I would need to immerse myself in multiple educational opportunities regarding stream ecology so I could begin to better understand streams as vibrant, changing systems. Equally important, I could better teach the somewhat difficult concepts to young learners. Fortunately, the zoology department offers their graduate students summer funding to conduct research projects related to their research projects and specifically, the ability to travel or purchase the needed equipment and experiences to thoroughly collect data., I was able to attend various stream workshops throughout the Midwest for both scientists and teachers with this financial support.

This study took another turn as I began to focus on exactly what I would be doing as I began to share my research ideas with educational leadership and teacher education faculty members both on the committee and in the department. As I read relevant literature, the project's focus narrowed to the children's discourse. I begab=n to focus on the possibility of observing how Appalachian children negotiate their spoken and written language in all the spaces where science would be conducted during an ecologically-

based stream inquiry unit. Having been immersed in cognitive constructivism in my initial doctoral program, I knew I wanted to use a constructivist theoretical perspective, but as I continued reading about the distinctions between the three main types of constructivism— what I call cognitive, social, and radical—it seemed that social constructivism fit the goals of the project best. Finally, I knew I wanted to do a qualitative study that focused on children's learning, but in reading about the variety of methodological perspectives, I became intrigued with constructivist grounded theory as it seemed to have an ideal combination of flexibility and structure. As I revisited the literature, I was excited to discover that there has been no research on Appalachian science discourse and specifically nothing related to ecological education.

Delimitations The purpose of this study is to describe and interpret children‘s discourse during a stream monitoring unit during science within a fifth grade community of learners in which I was both a teacher and the researcher. My purpose in this dissertation is to tell the story of the case of a particular group of learners within this group—the identified children of Appalachian descent—and to describe how they constructed a discourse about and with a particular science unit in the many places the science unit occurred. I privilege how their outside discourse compared to their inside discourse. The goal of this report is to sufficiently describe the study and its findings so that readers can recognize the ways in which my situated observations and interpretations may or may not be relevant to their own work as teachers, researchers, or middle school curriculum developers (Stake, 2000). The prolonged engagement and persistent observation inherent to my role as teacher at the research site contributed to my ability to interpret social interaction and report inside and outside activities. In addition, because of my role as teacher, my unique subjectivities played a key role in the orchestration of this learning activity through my ongoing assessment and instructional decision-making during the stream monitoring unit. My subjectivities were important to my interpretation of classroom events and of the meaning that the children made of them because I am using a constructivist grounded theory approach to data collection and interpretation. My teacher researcher reflection journal was a useful tool in addressing these subjectivities. I used the journal to make explicit the theory and experience-based thinking that contributed to the actions I took in

the classroom and my interpretations of spoken and written discourse. Additionally, I transcribed my own contributions to the classroom discourse during activities involving the stream unit. In presenting the findings of this study, I will openly address these subjectivities by including myself in the written story of the case of this particular Appalachian fifth grade community of learners.

Definitions of Key Terms The purpose of the final section of this introductory chapter is to share meanings of some terms used throughout this report as I trouble their definitions. Due to the range of possible meanings in the related professional literature, I will provide a definition for each word or phrase as well as a brief description of related theorists who have influenced my narrowing of the definition. The terms are listed alphabetically. Appalachian: a child who has either directly lived in the Appalachian mountain region or who is a descendent of an ancestor who has lived in that same region. Citizen Science: Citizen science is a term used for a project or ongoing program of scientific work in which a network of volunteers, many of whom may have no specific scientific training, perform or manage research-related tasks such as observation, measurement or computation. The use of such networks often allows scientists to accomplish research objectives more feasibly than would otherwise be possible. In addition, these projects aim to promote public engagement with the research, as well as with science in general. Some programs provide materials specifically for use by primary or secondary school students. As such, citizen science is one approach to informal science education. The children in this project did not actually conduct citizen science data collection, as there was no communication with scientists. They did use the same techniques and inventories typically used in stream-monitoring citizen science assessments. Community of Learners: Through dialogue education, learning is ideally constructed by a community of learners. This model of teaching praxis shifts the focus of education from what the teacher says to what the learner does, from learner passivity to learners as active participants in the dialogue that leads to learning. A dialogue approach to education views learners as subjects in their own learning and honors central principles such as mutual respect and open communication. Learners are invited to actively engage

with the content being learned rather than being dependent on the educator for learning. Ideas are presented to learners as open questions to be reflected on and integrated into the learner's own context. Culture: ―the ever changing values, traditions, social and political relationships and worldview created and shared by a group of people bound together by a combination of factors which can include a common history, geographic location, language, social class, and/or religion‖ (Nieto, 2002)

Culturally Relative/Culturally Responsive Pedagogy: Gay (2000) defines culturally relative and responsive teaching as using the cultural knowledge, prior experiences, and performance styles of diverse students to make learning more appropriate and effective for them; it teaches to and through the strengths of these students.

Discourse: either spoken or written language of child or teacher. I am informed by Foucault's definition of discourse which must both be understood as a singular discourse, as and as a more general discourse, meaning the boundaries given to any particular discourse. Gee (2005) also informs my definition as he defines discourse as ―Discourses‖ with a capital D, as recognizable coordinations of people, places, objects, tools, technologies, and ways of speaking, listening, writing, reading, feeling, valuing, believing, etc.

Ecology: Ecology comes from the early Greek word oikas which meant managing the daily relationships and activities within the household; currently it refers to the interdependent nature of natural systems—and by extension, the symbolic systems and human activities we refer to as culture; it represents the parts as interdependent with the larger whole such as the interactions between cultural and natural systems; this interdependence of cultural and natural systems was expressed by Gregory Bateson when he wrote that ―no system which shows mental characteristics (when differences are the source of information circulating through the entire system) can any part have unilateral control over the whole‖ ( 1972, p. 316); the opposite of an anthropocentric way of thinking.

Inquiry-based Science: Inquiry-based science is a method of teaching science where students learn science by using similar methods, attitudes and skills as scientists do when they are conducting scientific research. Students act like ―mini-researchers‖ during inquiry. Students have the opportunity to find their own problems and questions, formulate hypotheses, think up a method for testing their hypothesis, and then using the data they have collected to decide the hypothesis was correct and thus try to answer their original question. Inquiry-based science is based on the constructivist theory of learning. It can be contrasted with traditional education and direct instruction which emphasizes learning facts and information from books and teachers.

Space: As Foucault (1984) stated, ―Space is fundamental in any form of communal life; space is fundamental in any exercise of power‖ (p.235). Soja (1989) continued this analysis by suggesting that the structures of meaning, which are implicated in the production and use of power, are themselves implicated and produced in specific places: ―‗Place‘ often begins as a physical construct while ‗space‘ is a product of social translation, transformation, and experience of that place‖ (p.79). Michel Foucault contests the traditional notion of linear time, asserting that concepts of time have been understood in various ways, under varying historical circumstances. Foucault's idea corresponds with our understanding of space(s) over time. He establishes two unique sites—utopias and heterotopias—which are linked to other spaces, yet are also in contradiction to those other sites to which they are linked. A utopia is a fundamentally unreal space. In contrast, a heterotopia, a real space, is simultaneously mythic and real. All cultures are heterotopias, according to Foucault. Rurality: for the purpose of this study, I define ―rural‖ and ―rurality‖ based on the following observations of the Country Dale School and the children who attend the district: 1. Future Farmers of America is a part of the high school curriculum and the district has a full time agriculture educator. 2. According to the government definition of rural, the area that encompasses the Country Dale Middle School is rural as according to this definition, counties not included in metropolitan statistical areas, as

defined by the Office of Management and Budget. Other factors used in the definition of a rural area have included the common nature of employment (usually farming), income levels, government structures and the degree of geographical isolation. 3. The notion of rurality can also be linked to the landscape. Such an approach is not unconnected with the residential and tourism functions of "the countryside", which are complementary to agricultural production. Recent decades have seen considerable diversification in the way the countryside is valued. In addition, low population density regions are frequently also areas of great natural ecological value.

I will provide further explanations for these words and phrases within the theoretical framework and review of literature in the next chapter, and I will make continued use of them throughout my discussion of the methodology in Chapter 3 in the presentation of findings in Chapter 5. As the next three chapters indicate, these key terms represent ideas upon which the purpose and procedures for the study were based. I will revisit them and their key role in the study as I summarize and discuss this research project in Chapter 5.

Chapter 2: The Literature Review

Introduction Marginalized groups, including Appalachian children, seldom are encouraged to practice science let alone invited into conversations regarding science (Barton, 2003; Roth & Barton., 2004). Unfortunately, marginalized children are most often encouraged to engage in scientific practice and discourse only when it involves mastery of school- related curricular content (Brickhouse, 1994; Brown, 2006). At a time when children from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds represent the fastest growing school-age population in the United States, too many of these children are failing in school science. This lack of success has direct consequences for their sense of themselves as learners and thinkers, for their possible career choices, and for the well-being and resilience of the nation‘s social, economic and political life. The under-representation of culturally and linguistically diverse groups of students in advanced sciences and mathematics is a complicated problem and, as the many attempts at addressing it attest, there are no simple solutions. Poverty, oppression, lack of access to and history with formal schooling, social and economic stratification, and the like all contribute in powerful ways (Kozol, 1991; Mehan, 1991; Oakes, 1985, 1986). Current science education reform movements are in danger of leaving this problem unaddressed. While explicitly acknowledging their concern for ―equity for all,‖ these efforts have not taken up directly or seriously what the proposed reforms might actually mean for students living in poverty or from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds (AAAS, 1993). Instead, like previous reform movements, policy makers assume that high quality curricula and ―authentic‖ activity aligned with rigorous standards will result in high achievement. Historically, the details of education reform in the United States have been typically worked out in dominant culture contexts. There has been an underlying assumption that they can simply be exported to other contexts (e.g., urban and rural school systems, bilingual and English as a second language settings). Reforms rarely ‗trickle down‘ successfully. They have not been explicitly conceptualized in relation to diverse communities of learners or dynamic notions of culture (Barton, 2003).

The topic of this research project evolved over an approximate 20-year period much like the process of mosaic making. Like traditional mosaic-crafting, where each bit of stone, ceramic, or mirror is taken from a piece of discarded or broken pottery, so too have I pieced together seemingly irrelevant observations throughout my life during specific time periods. I will piece together many seemingly disparate areas of science curricular reform in this literature review. These areas include social constructivist learning theory; science discourse and classroom discourse; Appalachian culture and identity formation; rural spatiality and education; and ecological education. To preface what is to follow, my literature review will focus mainly on how rural children who have been identified as having an Appalachian heritage use both spoken and written language, discourse, to communicate their sense making during science as they study streams on their school site and in the community. My literature review will begin with an overview of historic science education curricular movements to help contextualize the need and awareness of studying children's discourse in science spaces. Next, I will summarize the primary theories of constructivist learning theory as I focus on social constructivism through a Vygotskian lens. I will then historically examine school science discourse as I describe the research of language-based sense making and science. I will next note the reasons why addressing cultural differences is vital to any study on these topics as I specifically focus on historicizing Appalachian culture and education in rural settings. Finally, I will review the literature written on ecological education and the potential meanings to schooling for teachers and children. This project, like this interdisciplinary program I am finalizing, demands a nontraditional and thorough literature review to help assemble separate pieces of ideology, theory, and practice. As a result, I begin to craft a mosaic of experiences, specifically a mosaic bricolage. The term ―bricolage‖ has many meanings, and each meaning resonates with this research project. A bricolage can be a construction made of whatever materials are at hand, or something created from a variety of available things. In literature, bricolage is a piece created from diverse resources; in art, it is a piece of makeshift handiwork. Finally, and perhaps most appropriately, bricolage in research is the use of multiple, diverse research methods (Derrida, 1966). Children bring what they can to a classroom conversation. What they bring depends on their former experiences and attitudes about the topic of discussion. Like the

crafting of a mosaic, where some pieces are prized over others, so too are the voices of children during science classes. This project seeks to uncover how certain children contribute to the mosaic of science-related conversations wherever they occur.

The History of Science Curricular Reforms in the United States

To best situate this project, a brief historic look of science education reform in United States will help the reader contextualize current curricular and pedagogical science education practices. I begin the review of this history with the 1950s because of major strides in scientific discoveries and ongoing developments which directly influenced the United States. While I immediately acknowledge that the teaching of science in public schools has occurred evolutionarily throughout the past two centuries, there certainly were attempts to improve science curricula prior to this time period. I also argue that the most dramatic, sweeping, and relevant changes that we know today were initiated beginning with this time in the years that followed World War II. Although it may seem that not all of the reforms listed in the following time periods are directly relevant to the way rural Appalachian children speak about science, I include the following sections to historicize the science education reform movement and bring the reader up to date specifically regarding curricular innovations in science education over the past several decades. What is crucial to this project is the historic emphasis on global competition in mathematics and science education. I contend throughout this project that schooling must first consider and embrace the local cultures, especially those at society‘s margins, before lasting changes can occur globally.

1950s – 1960s…Modernity and Space: The Final Frontier Researchers have recently maintained that major science education reform efforts in the United States started in the years following World War II (Baker and Piburn, 1997; Hassard, 1992). Baker and Piburn (1997) stated that "we had a totally new impression of the importance of science" and consequently a paper published by the President's National Research Board in 1947 argued that ―no other field than science had a potential for improving the health, prosperity, and security of the United States were ensuring its place as a nation in the modern world" (p.5). Today, more than half a century later, these words have truly come about as a foresight fulfilled.

According to Baker and Piburn (1997), the National Science Foundation (NSF) was originally founded because of the recommendations made in 1945 in an attempt to improve the state of science and the nation, though Hassard (1992) argued that its main mission and drive was at colleges and universities at that time. There have been other reports, according to Hassard (1992), such as the Science Education in American Schools in 1947 by the National Society for the Study of Education. The study recommended three things: 1.) That science education should begin early in the experience of a child, 2.) All education in science at the elementary and secondary level should be generalized rather than specific regarding curricular content, and 3.) Competence in the use of the scientific method of problem-solving and attitudes should be of most importance in the development of objectives in science teaching and learning for students of all ages. Fifty years ago on October 4, 1957, Sputnik was launched. The world of science education would continually transform for decades to come with this launch of Sputnik into space. The Sputnik launch dramatically changed everything in the United States regarding science instruction. As a technical achievement, Sputnik caught the world's attention and the American public off-guard. In addition, the public feared that the Soviets' ability to launch satellites also translated into the capability to launch ballistic missiles that could carry nuclear weapons from Europe to the U.S. Then the Soviets struck again; on November 3, Sputnik II was launched, carrying a much heavier payload, also including a dog named Laika (NASA, 2007). ―The Soviet launch of Sputnik into orbit about the earth was a shock that had reverberating effects on American science and mathematics education like no other event in the century‖ (Hassard, 1992, p.108). Case (1988), Hassard (1992), and Killian (1978) argue that the launching of Sputnik led to the frenzied development of immediate programs to reform science education as the global race for success in science was on. Looking for a scapegoat for the perceived failures of the United States, it did not take long for public school teachers and school curricula to be blamed for the American lack of success in space science. Prior to Sputnik, if science was taught in schools in the elementary and middle school grades, it was at best the passive act of reading from textbooks and watching an occasional informational filmstrip on a science concept. The United States would dramatically rethink the way children were taught science. Wide sweeping changes in the writing and production of curricular

materials were developed and adopted throughout the elementary through high school public educational system. Emphasizing a new realization that children had to become actively involved in the learning process, and that science was more than an outcome—it was a process— teams of scientists and science educators jointly created what was known as the elementary ―alphabetic acronym curricular programs‖ (Case, 1988). Science kits also emerged to meet the needs of a busy classroom teacher who lacked the time, resources, and knowledge to find materials to teach science thoroughly. Some examples of these curricular programs included, Elementary Science Study (ESS), Science Curriculum Improvement Study (SCIS), and Science -A Process Approach (SAPA). At the middle school level, there were Earth Science Curriculum Project (ESCP), Individualized Science Instruction System (ISIS), and at the Interaction Science Curriculum Project (ISCP). At the secondary high school level were the nationally recognized programs including, Biological Science Curriculum Study (BSCS), Chemical Bond Approach (CBA), Chemical Education Materials Study (CEMS), Harvard Project Physics (HPP), and Physical Science Study Committee (PSSC) (Case, 1988; Baker and Piburn, 1997). It was widely believed at this time that the decline in performance in American schools was a direct result of poor curricular materials. It was also believed that "better curricula" would produce "better performing students,‖ and to restore the nation's competitive edge, our ever-expanding consumer-oriented society was eager to "buy into" the best program to get the most results. Purchasing a good science series for the science curriculum was seen as a panacea regardless of the teachers using the materials and how those materials were used in the classrooms.

1970s…Science Education and Culture Meet Head On Although the United States failed to win the space wars by first sending a satellite into orbit, its space program, the National Aeronautics Space Administration (NASA) grew rapidly by being the first nation to put humans on the surface of the moon, (Baker & Piburn, 1997). The 1970s saw the beginnings of competing and often clashing cultural influences and attitudes toward science and there were often competing views of how science should be taught in public classrooms. Haney (1992) would suggest there was

another prevalent crisis during this time period. The emergence of concerns via the individual citizen and citizen-based groups regarding the ever growing perception that science instruction and science curricular content was gradually weakening and outcries for reform soon became a part of mainstream discourse in United States. As the previous decade‘s science kits and "discovery" methods of teaching became to be seen as "overly open-ended" (Haney, 1992), stressing more process than content and product, the science education practices swung back in a more conservative direction. According to Hassard (1992), there was a call to a new back-to-basics movement which directly influenced science and the teaching of science. Due to a sharp decline in students choosing science careers, there was also an increasing realization that the United States needed to meet high school students‘ needs through more realistic science education curricula. Ironically, while the nation had secured its place as a superpower of the time, it was producing relatively few scientists as compared to other European and Asian countries (Haney, 2002). Man: A Course of Study (MACOS) was curricular package that was developed during the time period. According to Hassard (1992), this curricular course of study was met with much resistance, especially from certain groups including fundamentalist Christians "on the grounds of its aberrant, repugnant, grotesque, or morally sick content" (p. 110) and others on the grounds that MACOS emphasized cultural relativism as opposed to skills and facts (p. 110). BSCS textbooks were sharply accused of emphasizing Darwin's evolutionary theory. These arguments started the pursuit for textbook censorship and heightened awareness regarding how the influences of politics and society informed classroom practices, curricula, and discourses.

The 1980s… Capitalism and Science Education A Nation at Risk, published in 1983, was an attempt by the United States to continue the race for excellence in the arena of global science education. ―Such reform initiatives have historically had limited results due to their often singular purpose which is narrowly attempted by a limited number of interested parties. These goals often are eventually reached naturally, and there becomes no reason to push forth with the original effort‖ (Hassard, 1992). The report lamented "the United States as a once-unchallenged preeminent power in commerce, industry, science, and technological innovations is being

overtaken by competitors throughout the world" and that this was due to "a rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our future as a nation and the people" (National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1983, p. 1). The report continued to list the foibles of the educational system and it recommended that: The teaching of science in elementary through high school should provide graduates with an introduction to: (a) the concepts, laws, and processes of the physical and biological sciences; (b) the methods of scientific inquiry and reasoning; (c) the application of scientific knowledge to everyday life; and (d) the social and environmental applications of scientific and environmental and technological development. (p. 25)

Educating Americans for the 21st Century, another report which was published that same year had the singular goal, according to Hassard (1992) of: The improvement and support of elementary and secondary school systems throughout America so that by the year 1995, they will provide all the nation's youth with a level of education in mathematics, science, and technology, as measured by achievement scores and participation levels, that is not only the highest quality attained anywhere in the world but also reflects particular needs of the nation. (p. 114)

Up until this point, most science education reform efforts focused on the competition between American citizens, especially children, and citizens from other developed countries. I contend that such a narrow vision seldom has long-lasting results. These objectives of "mastery" are simply short-termed and if they are achieved, there is no intrinsic motivation to continue the pursuit of the continuation of the goal. More importantly, most voices are disregarded in discussions regarding science and science education.

In 1985, the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) initiated a long term project aimed at producing high school graduates who were scientifically literate. This project, supported by the NSF (National Science Foundation), focused on improving science education in the United States without the explicit goal of solely competing with another nation of the world (AAAS, 1996). This project had multifaceted objectives to be achieved by the year 2061 (Haney, 1990; Hassard, 1992; Martin, Sexton, Wagner, & Gerlovich, 1997) and calls for (AAAS, 1993):

 the reduction in the amount of materials to ensure scientific literacy... more depth, less breadth  the elimination of rigid subject-matter boundaries and attention to connections between science, mathematics, and technology  emphasizing the social aspect of science with some interdependence on human thought  fostering the scientific ways of thinking which is consistent with the spirit and character of true scientific inquiry, and  a more student-centered teaching environment, giving students a chance to practice multiple, realistic, and cultured methods of scientific inquiry. This project was different in many ways. Because the project was a long-term initiative, it consisted of three phases that were expected to spend a decade (AAAS, 1990). Phase 1 of the project attempted to "establish a conceptual base for reform by defining the knowledge, skills, and attitudes all students should acquire as a consequence of their total school experience" (p. 220). Phase 2 developed a blueprint for reform with the ultimate aim of producing "a variety of curriculum models that school districts and states can use as they undertake to reform the teaching of science, mathematics, and technology" (p. 220). Phase 3 of the project had the mandate of turning the Phase 2 blueprints into educational practice. According to the AAAS, while these objectives seemed achievable, there was more that must have been accomplished to arrive at what society demanded of high school graduates. In justifying the long-lasting reform of education rather than the past "quick fixes" that always seemingly failed, the AAAS underscored the fact that change is truly a slow process. It is undeniably so when the enterprise to change is as encompassing as the American education system. Such a goal is often met with resistance due to the involvement of so many different cultures of people and by the difficulty in challenging the customary practices of teachers‘ traditional and often experientially-based beliefs. Through years of experience for most professionals, repeated anecdotal experiences have reinforced traditional views that "tend to change slowly when it comes to attitudes, beliefs and ways of doing things" (AAAS, 1990, p.211). The key to lasting school reform, the AAAS observes, is reforming teacher education. Young teaching

professionals could bring values, attitudes common knowledge, and skills that were not necessarily learned through the vicious circle of "teachers teach the way they were taught", but learned through the new reformed research-based methods of teaching and that could promote conceptual understanding. It is these graduates at whatever level, who will not only be personally fulfilled, responsible, open, descent, and able to live harmoniously with fellow citizens, but recognize both the local and global nature of the problems that humans face in this time and age (AAAS, 1990). Project Synthesis was a project supported by the NSF in 1981. According to Kyle Jr. (1991), the Project Synthesis study recommended the emphasis should be on (a) decision-making and problem-solving skills of school children, (b) human biology and effective human activities of the natural world as well as our dependence and responsibility for the safekeeping of the environment, and finally (c) the relationship of science and technology and their roles in modern life. The effects of such objectives can be seen in such new developments in science curricula as the integration of the Earth sciences and through environmental education where the main emphasis is on the interdependence of sciences. The argument leveled by proponents of such new curricula is that scientific problems never posed themselves to students, let alone in everyday life, as compartments that we have divided the study of nature (American Geophysical Union, 1996). The application of science to solve problems requires that problem-solvers go across the disciplinary boundaries of physics, chemistry, biology, and any other science, including newly emerging scientific areas, including the environmental sciences.

The National Science Teachers Association (NSTA) created a project they called Scope, Sequence and Coordination (SSCS) with an emphasis from grades seven through twelve (NSTA, 1992). Key to the SS&C guiding principles is the belief that all students can understand science provided the content is sequenced "from concrete experiences and descriptive expressions to abstract symbolism and quantitative expression, revisiting concepts, principles, and theories as successively higher levels of abstraction and coordinating learning in the four science subjects so west to interrelate basic concepts and principles" Lawrenz & Huffman, 1997, p. 12). This is key to science instruction as a

teacher who holds such a philosophy would be encouraged to begin the journey to ensuring the success of all students in his or her classroom.

The 1990s…A Quiet Crisis in Science Education Many of the projects which were initiated in the 1980s transcended multiple decades and overlapped into the 1990s. The AAAS‘s Project 2061 is good example of this phenomenon. The Federal Coordinating Council for Science, Engineering, and Technology‘s (FCCSET) Committee on Education and Human Resources (CEHR) hereafter referred to as FCCSET-CEHR, characterized this period as the ―Quiet Crisis‖ as there was no evident change despite the proliferation of reform mandates. During the 1990s, school accountability became prevalent across the United States as reports found that there was still a decline in student performance in science relative to international peers. A new concern for the ―scientifically illiterate American‖ emerged as did declining enrollments in scientific and technology high school and college level courses, and a new awareness of marginalized groups in the sciences These groups included the under representation of women, minorities, and persons with disabilities entering in and maintaining interest and careers in science (FCC CET-CEHR, 1991). This period was characterized by the federal government's leading role in committing funds to educational reform in science out of its own previously-written in theoretically plans national reform initiatives. There was an immediate reinvigoration of past reform efforts including the establishment of the national goals for the improvement of education in 1991 by the FCCCET-CEHR. It soon became clear to the government that the American child was ―academically challenged‖ compared to children from other nations. This contrast was especially true as seen in the country of Japan where children outscored American children dramatically in the areas of mathematics and science education. Another crisis was on the forefront of the in American science education landscape, and this change had to occur quickly. The fourth goal of the FCCET-CEHR’s national education goals categorically stated that the American child was to be the first in the world in science and mathematics achievement by the year 2000 (FCCSET-CEHR, 1991).

Interestingly, in the Goals 2000, as the FCCSET-CEHR publication is commonly called, the question was raised regarding the state of undergraduate education in science, mathematics, and engineering into what was called its inadequacy to respond to the changing needs of the society of the time. Two key issues were raised in this document: (a) there were inadequate numbers of college graduates, especially minority graduates, in the aforementioned cognate areas, and (b) both majors and non-majors in the areas were not receiving an education that prepared them for future economic, societal, and technological needs (FCCSET-CEHR, 1991). In addition to the above mentioned problems of degree production, many scholars in this report believed that undergraduate science, mathematics and engineering education has suffered from a lack of attention: …which is left its stagnant, diminished its quality, and led to a dull and uninspiring student experience. As a result, there is concern about the quality of the academic experience itself, particularly during the [sic] the first two years of a four-year undergraduate sequence‖. (FCCSET-CEHR, 1991, p. 40)

The observations made by the Goals 2000 were surprising. Undergraduate science course curricular practices of the time had remained the same for over 20 years despite an ever- changing evolution of the sciences being taught. Nothing had changed regarding how science was taught in the early 1970s was virtually taught the same way in the 1990s. There was a call therefore for faculty teaching undergraduate classes to "upgrade their teaching skills and, in some instances, to become more familiar with scientific developments in their fields" (p. 40). This included science teacher preservice education programs as well. There was a call for more hands-on experiences in genuine research and laboratory investigations in both classes of science and science teacher education. AAAS (1990) dedicated a chapter in their findings to what they called: …ten accounts of significant discoveries in changes that exemplify the evolution and impact of scientific knowledge: the planetary Earth, universal gravitation, relativity, geologic time, plate tectonics, the conservation of matter, radioactivity in nuclear fission, the evolution of species, the nature of disease, and the Industrial Revolution. (p. 146).

The above quote represents great strides in the capabilities of the human intellect. However, what is more sobering is the realization that these discoveries, having developed almost over geologic time scales, have only been accepted and "discovered" in

the last 50 or so years. To mention just a few of these recent discoveries as examples, the DNA structure was only finalized in 1953, plate tectonics theory in 1960, the atomic theory, as we know it today, in 1932, and the age of the Earth in 1953. The chain of developments following each of these discoveries was inconceivable and science as was known then prior to this time change dramatically. This change suggests both a change in what is taught in elementary, middle school, high school and college undergraduate science programs and how it is taught. Science can no longer be seen as a rhetoric of conclusions (Lawson, Rissing, & Faeth, 1990), but more realistically, as a process of culturally-based and related knowledge construction and generation.

2000 and Beyond… The Impact of No Child Left Behind During this time period, references to education and educational reform focus on George W. Bush‘s, No Child Left Behind, but the overarching goal of pushing American students to be the first in the world in science and mathematics achievement was no longer a priority. The report found that there was a clear deficit in American children's conceptions of science and mathematics (FCCSET-CEHR, 1991). The Third International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS) showed that there was no way the American student would be ―the first in mathematics and science achievement‖ or even slightly competitive, (National Commission on Mathematics and Science Teaching for the 21st Century (NCMSTC), 2000; NRC, 1999). To twist the knife even deeper, the NCMSTC published a report that echoed the same failures of past reform efforts and again, with the sole goal of the American child to be first in mathematics and science achievement globally. It emphasized the urgency of the matter, and, like the immediacy of purchasing a product during an infomercial, the committee warned that the time was to act was ―now-before it's too late‖ (National Commission on the Mathematics and Science Teaching for the 21st Century, 2000). The emphasis was different, however. Rather than just concentrating on school science reform as has been the case in the past, this report recognized that the American workplace, as with the equalization of market economies, national security, the American common life, history, and culture, as well as everyday decision-making, were becoming more and more dependent on the use of mathematics and science related knowledge. The committee saw

a window of opportunity to make a striking blow at reform because (a) the American people were now focused on education as a result of past reform efforts, (b) there were surplus resources that could be invested in education, (c) there was an anticipated shift on the teaching force demographics due to retirement, (d) there was a wealth of knowledge on science and mathematics learning and teaching generated over time, and finally, (e) college graduates were again showing interest in teaching science as a profession (National Commission on the Mathematics and Science Teaching for the 21st Century, 2000). As if being a teacher weren't challenging enough, President Bush's education act of 2001, No Child Left Behind, demanded that no child should academically be unaccounted for in the school's process of educating all students. The law called for increased subject matter knowledge and teaching skills for science teachers, both professional development initiatives, and a concerted effort to recruit more people into science teaching (Bush, 2001; U.S. Department of Education, 2002). This was an attempt to address issues of untrained, unprepared, or teaching "out-of-area‖ of teachers in science classrooms. The NCMSTC report had called for the reform effort to improve education to start at the core of education itself―teacher preparation, in-service education, and recruitment efforts. No Child Left Behind specifically targeted three main areas, including; (a) that all teachers become "highly qualified" in their subject matter that they teach; (b) that all the students be annually tested in the areas of mathematics and reading, and every three years, student accountability in the form of testing in the areas of citizenship and science occur, and; (c) the use of "scientifically based research" must be used in schools to document student growth and future development. Ethnographic or qualitative research, like this project on children‘s discourse, was seen as unworthy and nonscientific, therefore ―bad research,‖ according to the Bush administration. With one pen stroke, George W. Bush single-handedly signed a bill into law which invalidated the entire body of qualitative research. No Child Left Behind has been criticized, especially by progressive educators. For example, a study conducted by the American Heart Association and the National Association for Sport and Physical Education contend that by schools focusing on academic seatwork and by diminishing physical education in school, childhood obesity has conditioned children to be immobile for extended amounts

of time (Trickey, 2006). Those not in favor of the No Child Left Behind plan have criticized many of its basic components. Some of these components include that proof that the government has inadequately funded such a monumental program. The often common knowledge that standardized testing inherently has a multitude of problems is another concern. Yet another concern is that states‘ rights have been violated on an ongoing basis since the inception of No Child Left Behind, and that the mandated national curriculum is narrowly focused on mathematics and reading education. Critics also argue that with the current mathematics and reading curricular demands of children every year in school that No Child Left Behind leaves out curricular subjects including science, citizenship, the arts, and physical education. For example, the Center on Public Education found that after implementation of No Child Left Behind, 71% of the districts surveyed had elementary schools that cut back on instructional time from other curricular subjects to make room for more reading and math where most student accountability was placed (NCLB, 2007). While the major science education reforms (AAAS‘ Project 2061) call for increasing science time and suggest more time intensive inquiry-based science instruction, sadly No Child Left Behind calls for more time devoted to mathematics and reading and more concepts ―covered‖ by teachers. The Ohio Department of Education has responded by mandating that every child in a public school take The Ohio Achievement Tests in science in grades five and eight with the minimal goal of achieving the academic ranking of ―Proficient.‖ How do teachers balance their school day with these two contradictory mandates? Of more importance to this study is the question, ―How do children living at society‘s margins make sense of this experience?‖ Like the ―mainstream children,‖ these children are the ones who are often NOT told during the many months of testing prep, ―You make teaching easy and fun,‖ (Sue Ponder, field notes, April 17, 2007). These children are either given the most pressure to pass, or they are entirely dismissed. How do these disenfranchised children make sense of this test preparation process and socially construct knowledge if they are even given that chance? To ground this question, I next explore the theoretical and practical parameters of constructivism.

Constructivist Learning Theory In the section, I turn to a discussion of learning theory as it relates through culturally constructed meaning-making by the use of language. I begin by elaborating on the overarching theory of constructivist learning as I briefly interrogate the nuances between cognitive constructivism, radical constructivism, and social constructivism. I then elaborate on Vygotskian social constructivism as I examine current sociocultural perspectives in science education through children's discourse. I conclude the section with a discussion of authoritative teacher discourse versus marginalized minority student discourse in science classes. This discussion will then segue into the next section of Appalachian identity formation and Appalachian education, and finally Appalachian science education. Current reform movements recommend the use of inquiry-based instructional models. To help teachers develop curriculum and teaching strategies that incorporate these approaches, researchers in science education (Lemke, 2000; Shymansky & Kyle, 1992; Lim & Calabrese Barton, 2006) recommend adopting a constructivist pedagogical framework that includes; personal relevance; scientific uncertainty; critical voice; shared control; and student negotiation. In order for teachers to incorporate these theoretical methods into their teaching pedagogy, most educators have had to abandon some assumptions of the past. These assumptions include; teaching is not telling; the ways in which children make sense of science are as diverse as the children themselves; knowledge construction often takes more time than teachers or school administrators are willing to give; and additionally and perhaps more relevantly; children need to express their scientific wonderings frequently through language without fear of negative repercussions from teachers or peers (Aikenhead & Jegede, 1999; Tobin, 1998; Roth, 2006a, 2006b, 2007; Wells. 1999, Tobin & Roth, 2004; Abell, 2007).

Finding Space for Constructivism

What are the essential components of constructivism? Constructivism is an epistemology. Constructivist theorists are not simply constructing a theory about teaching, but are advancing a theory about learning acquisition, psychology and the theorists‘ own interpretations concerning the history of science and philosophy.

―Constructivism is a descriptive theory that suggests that individuals create their own new understandings based upon the interaction of what they already know and believe, and the phenomena of ideas with which they come into contact‖ (Richardson, 1997, p.3). This philosophy also elucidates subtle differences in definitions as well. For example, Golinski (1998) describes constructivism in terms of scientific knowledge when he writes, The term [constructivism] draws attention to the central notion that scientific knowledge is a human creation, made with available material and cultural resources, rather than simply the revelation of a natural order that is pre-given and independent of human action. (p. 6)

According to Bredo (2000), Immanuel Kant was the principal originator of constructivist thought. Kant attempted to resolve the competing claims of the rationalist Descartes. He believed that knowledge is found within oneself while the empiricist Locke believed that knowledge is synthesized from essential human sensory experiences. Bredo (2000) wrote that in the view of Kant ―we can never know the things in themselves that cause perceptual experiences because even the phenomena of experiences are shaped by mental relationships‖ (p. 129). Determining a definition of constructivism presents challenges as any conception of constructivism that fails to take into account the full variation and change in the way the term is used will itself be a humanly created construct (Bredo, 2000). The cognitive psychology, science education, and educational philosophy research is sated with examples of both the theory and practice of constructivism, but it is limited to a singular, specific definition. In general, the epistemological framework of constructivism is that knowledge is constructed based upon experience (Halpin, 1999; Mahn & John-Steiner, 2002). ―Constructivism is the notion that learners construct their own knowledge from their experiences‖(Ormrod, 1995, p.35). The interchange between new knowledge and how that new knowledge relates to experience is what differentiates and defines various forms of constructivism. Constructivism is not a unitary theoretical position; rather, it is frequently described as a continuum. The assumptions that underlie this continuum vary along several dimensions and have resulted in the definition and support for multiple types of constructivism (Moshman, 1982; Phillips, 1995). Typically, this continuum is divided into three broad categories; cognitive constructivism (e.g., Anderson, Blumenfeld, Pintrich, Clark, Marx, & Peterson; Mayer, 1992), social

constructivism (e.g., Cobb & Yackel, 1996; Vygotsky, 1978), and radical constructivism (Bettencourt, 1993; Slezak, 1994; von Glasersfeld, 1993). Doolittle and Camp (1999) demonstrated how constructivism can theoretically be separated into the three major categories based upon specific constructivist principles that were developed by von Glasersfeld (1993), modified by Doolittle and Camp (1999), and then by Doolittle and Hicks (2003). The types of constructivism that appear on the continuum emphasize different principles. The principles range from a radical constructivist epistemology to a social constructivist epistemology. The philosophical foundations of constructivism include:

1. Knowledge is not passively accumulated, but rather, is the result of active cognizing by the individual;

2. Cognition is an adaptive process that functions to make an individual's behavior more viable given a particular environment;

3. Cognition organizes and makes sense of one's experience, and is not a process to render an accurate representation of reality; and

4. Knowing has roots in both biological/neurological construction, and social, cultural, and language based interactions.

The theory of constructivist learning has clear applications for classroom instruction.

Classroom Examples and Each Type of Constructivism An example of the cognitive constructivist perspective of learning would include a student problem to solve. In cognitive constructivism, reasoning is autonomous and has no connections to culture. The student, within a cognitive constructivist classroom, might be exposed to a problem solving inquiry lesson, for instance; how best to clean a local stream. The student would learn to identify and define each step, as well as to use the

steps in the attainment of the problem‘s solution. The student's learning would be assessed according to his or her ability to define, describe, and explain the problem solving steps, in the same way as other classmates or that of the teacher, and the student's ability to use the problem solving strategy to attain the ideal problem solutions. The focus of cognitive constructivism, in this example, is the construction of mental structures that mimic and function effectively within a knowable reality. An example of radical constructivism's emphasis on both structure and meaning can be seen in this problem solving example. The student might be exposed to a problem solving heuristic. The student, through interacting with the heuristic, would come to a personal understanding of the various steps. This understanding of the various steps may not match the textbook or teacher understandings, but the understandings would be internally coherent and would make sense to the student. In applying the heuristic, the student would not be seeking an ideal problem solution as determined by the textbook, teacher or peers. Rather, the student would be seeking a viable solution to the problem that works for the student. The focus of radical constructivism, in this example, is the student's personal understanding and his or her viable mental model of the problem solving process. Within a social constructivist perspective, the strategy would be experienced socially, through teacher-student interactions, cooperative learning groups, or classroom discussions. Social constructivism situates meaning-making within culture and cultural discourses. Practically, the strategy would be explored socially, such that group members and the teacher negotiate the meaning and application of each step. As with the radical constructivist perspective, the student would attain a personal understanding of the steps. This personal understanding would be mediated by the social milieu of the classroom. The personal understanding would not be measured against the textbook or teacher, nor would the application of the strategy be designed to attain the "correct" solution. The understanding would be measured, instead, as to its personal and social coherence and its ability to generate viable solutions. The focus of social constructivism in this example is on shared social experience and social negotiation of meaning. As this study focuses on social constructivism as seen through children's language in a middle school science

setting, social constructivism will be further described with an emphasis on Vygotskian social constructivism.

Social Constructivism Social constructivism, as a theory, centers on the idea that all meaning is socially constructed. Mead (1934) and Vygotsky (1981) believed that higher mental functioning is not attributable to individuals alone, but has its origin in social life. To the social constructivist, learning is viewed as taking place through a dialectic (Bahktin, 1984). The dialectic acts as a filter, which is created by social and cultural factors. Outside influences are mediated by social and cultural influences. The learner constructs his or her own knowledge based upon the collective experiences of the social and cultural groups where the individual resides. The four principles of constructivism previously mentioned are the epistemological underpinnings of social constructivism. Social constructivists would downplay the mental construction of knowledge because they think it is insignificant to the learning process (Doolittle & Camp, 1999). This particular epistemological emphasis leads to defining principles that maintain the social nature of knowledge, and the belief that knowledge is the result of social interaction and language usage. It is teachers and students who construct knowledge within specific social and cultural contexts. It is a shared language experience and not an individual experience. Vygotsky (1978) and Gergen (1995) further emphasize that this social interaction and language usage always occurs within a specific sociocultural context, resulting in knowledge that is culturally bound to a specific time and place. Indeed, according to Bakhtin (1984), a contemporary of Vygotsky, "truth is not to be found inside the head of an individual person, it is born between people collectively searching for truth, in the process of their dialogic interaction" (p. 110). "Truth," in this case, is neither the objective reality of the cognitive constructivists nor the experiential reality of the radical constructivist, but rather is a socially constructed and agreed upon truth resulting from "co-participation in cultural practices" (Cobb & Yackel, 1996, p. 37). Referring to these principles, I believe it is the teacher, the student, and the social/cultural environment that influence the construction of knowledge. Students will construct their own interpretation of the truth based upon a shared experience and thus knowledge is not an individual construction as it is within the cognitive and radical constructivist paradigms. Prawat and Floden agree as they wrote (1994),

Social constructivists are distinctive in their insistence that knowledge creation is a shared rather than an individual experience; they maintain that, to quote Goodman (1986), ―knowledge is developed by the dialectical interplay of many minds, not just one mind.‖ (p.37)

Doolittle and Camp (1999) determined that truth is neither the objective reality of cognitive constructivists nor the experiential reality of the radical constructivist, but rather is a socially constructed and agreed upon reality resulting from participation in cultural practice. In order for the learner to consider and believe the legitimacy of new knowledge, the new knowledge must fit with the mental structures that were socially constructed by the learner from the interplay of multiple minds. To the social constructivist, learning is not an individual accomplishment but is a result of social interactions. One of the important components of social learning is the development of language. Kenneth Gergen (1992) wrote, ―The meaning of words and actions is not derived by comparing them against the subjectivity of their authors, but against the governing conventions of the communities in which we reside‖. (p. 22). To Gergen, social constructivism commences with language. If individuals transmit knowledge in the classroom primarily in the form of language through examples including lectures, discussions or visual demonstrations, and if language is socially constructed, then there is no way to vindicate the idea that language and thus knowledge creates an accurate snapshot of the world. (p. 24). Starver (1998) established four integrated principles that are based upon a social constructivist epistemology as defined by Gergen (1998). These principles focus on language-based social interactions. According to Starver, their value to science pedagogy is that language-based discussion, negotiation, and consensus building that take place among students in cooperative learning is firmly grounded in constructivist principles. (p. 518). The epistemology of constructivism is expressed in the pedagogy of conceptual change theory. Conceptual change theory has been the most popular and wide spread interpretation of constructivism for practice in science education. (Bentley, 1998, p. 242). The premise behind conceptual change theory is that misconceptions are deconstructed and replaced with ―valid‖ scientific conceptions. The social constructivist would avoid such a simplistic view of learning; social constructivists see science as working through culturally specific and historically-situated discourses. What constitutes

validity? This question will be explored further as linkages are formed between social constructivism, language, and current sociocultural perspectives in science teaching.

Social Constructivism and Schooling

Social constructivism argues that the most optimal learning environment is one where a dynamic interaction between instructors, learners and tasks provides an opportunity for learners to create their own truth due to their interaction with others. Social constructivism stresses the importance of culture and context in understanding what is happening in society and constructing knowledge based on this understanding. The main foundations of social constructivism can be summarized as follows: Knowledge is not passively received but actively built up by the cognizing subject. ―The function of cognition is adaptive and serves the organization of the experiential world, not the discovery of ontological reality‖ (Von Glasersfeld, 1989, p.182). The personal theories that result from the organization of the experiential world must fit the constraints imposed by physical and social reality. This organization is achieved by a cycle of theory-prediction-test-failure-accommodation-new theory. Eventually, this process emerges as socially agreed theories of the world and social patterns and rules of language use. Social constructivism underlies theoretical explanations of how language occurs. Likewise, discourse emerges from routines, or action genres (Gee, 2001). Constructivism is itself a social practice, a manner of learning that requires participation in an activity. In the activity, language develops and children participate in a discourse community. In this community, members use language in particular ways and for specific reasons (Sheehy, 2002). Vygotsky (1978) maintained that children follow the adult's example and gradually develop the ability to do certain tasks without help or assistance. The difference between what children can do with help and what they can do without guidance the "zone of proximal development." In some settings, namely science classrooms, the manner in which discourse occurs is unique to language used elsewhere. Indeed, this discourse is often at odds with how language is used during children's non-classroom activities, including play during recess and time at home (Heath, 1983).

Creating Social Constructivist Learning Environments A constructivist teacher creates a context for learning in which students can become engaged in interesting activities that encourages and facilitates learning. The teacher does not simply stand by and watch children explore and discover. The teacher may instead guide students as they approach problems, may encourage them to work in groups to think about issues and questions, and may support them with encouragement and advice as they tackle problems, adventures, and challenges that are rooted in real life situations. Teachers, peers, and other members of the child's community facilitate cognitive growth and learning. All classrooms don't necessarily look alike in which instructional strategies compatible with Vygotsky's social constructivist approach are used. The activities and the format can vary considerably. The general principles that are applied in a social constructivist classroom are universal and include:  Learning and development is a social, collaborative activity.

 The Zone of Proximal Development can serve as a guide for curricular and lesson planning.

 School learning should occur in a culturally relative and meaningful context.

 Out-of-school experiences should be related to the child's school experience.

Although my role in this project was primarily as a researcher first and teacher second, I used these foundational principles to create a socially-constructed environment for the children I studied and taught.

According to Doolittle and Hicks (2003), Vygotskian pedagogy includes the following tenets for teachers:

1. Teach using whole & authentic activities. Activities should involve whole behaviors, not a whole behavior reduced to component parts. In addition, larger, authentic activities can often be constructed so that the larger activities subsume smaller activities and

concepts that the teacher desires the students to learn. These activities should also be genuine in nature, connect to something the children care about, and not be contrived or artificial.

2. Create a "need" for what is to be learned. In order to increase motivation and positive effect, students must see the need for learning material. A common comment from students is "When am I ever going to need to know this?" Vygotsky (1986) addressed the idea that students must be shown a need for learning: "Our studies show that the child has little motivation to learn writing when we begin to teach it. He feels no need for it, and has only a vague idea of its usefulness. In conversation, [however,] every sentence is prompted by a motive. Desire or need lead to request, question to answer, bewilderment to explanation." (p. 181)

3. Create classroom experiences that require social interaction. Activities should be structured to foster interaction between students. In addition, these interactions should be developmental, that is, engagement in activities should have as its primary goal the attainment of new signs and tools.

4. Provide opportunities for verbal interaction. Language provides the conduit through which ideas and behaviors become internalized. Language allows us to plan behaviors, to understand another's thinking, to elaborate on that to which we are currently attending, and to restructure our mental functions.

5. Monitor student progress. Teachers need to closely monitor students to insure that each student is being sufficiently challenged (i.e., students are given tasks that lie within their zones of proximal development), and to determine that each student is learning the intended material.

6. Scaffold. In order for teaching and learning to be effective and efficient students need to be continually challenged. This means that students should often be presented with tasks that require outside help or assistance. By presenting activities that require the student to seek assistance, the activity will lie within the student's zone of proximal development and will foster social mediation.

While students should be confronted with activities that require some type of assistance, in order for learning and development to occur, this assistance needs to be available. Assigning tasks beyond the student's current ability, and not supplying assistance, will only lead to frustration and helplessness. In addition, as students begin to learn the task in which they are engaged, the assistance needs to be withdrawn so that the student may take over more of the responsibility of performing the task independently (Doolittle & Hicks, 2003).

Children’s Discourse and Science Discourse How can science education reform be reconceptualized with all children in mind? One possibility that seems worth pursuing is to combine what is known about issues of equity and access with what is known about reforming science education to create a new community of educators and researchers concerned with, in the words of Ball (1997), being both "responsive to children and responsible to the discipline.‖ I contend that examining studies in literacy and language use can inform the dialogue on issues of educational equity for linguistic minority children and on designing contexts in which these children learn and achieve. Much of this research focuses on what Heath (1983) calls "ways with words": the varying ways in which members of different communities engage in storytelling and code switching, who participates when and for what purposes, how ways of talking and interacting that seem ‗natural‘ to members of one community are experienced as culturally strange by another. Studies in this tradition document how differences in ways with words affect students‘ engagement in academic tasks and classroom communication (Cazden, 1988; Gumperz & Cook-Gumperz, 2005; Jocoby & Ochs, 1995, Brown & Kelly, 2007). Teachers often take in what children are trying to convey through the filters of their own knowledge, histories, and expectations. These include expectations as to what constitutes an explanation or what kinds of prior knowledge, experiences, and skills support scientific reasoning. Despite the best of intentions, teachers can misunderstand children who say and do things differently from what they expect. They can hear these children, who can be from backgrounds different from their own, as off-topic, confused, illogical, lacking in essential vocabulary; in short, as unscientific. Recent research is countering this view of marginalized students‘ abilities in science. In three of these studies, researchers revisited their initial negative interpretations of these students‘ learning to characterize the depth and coherence in the children‘s thinking and uses of language (Kelly, 2007; Gee & Clinton, 2001; Michaels & Sohmer, 2000; Brown, 2006). The resources have been identified as powerful in constructing and conveying scientific meanings; narratives of everyday experience; culturally based practices of argumentation; embodied imagining; and the grammatical and conceptual resources of children‘s primary languages (Ballenger, 1999; Ochs, 1997; Scheiffein &

Ochs, 1986; Wolfram, Adger, & Christian, 1999; Kulick, 1992). Such an awareness of children‘s ‗ways with words‘ begins to suggest that children from diverse backgrounds can harness powerful intellectual resources that reflect those used in science and those valued in national science standards. It further shows that when teachers take up and build on them, these resources have the potential to enhance learning for all students. To further ground this study, I will describe the science role of discourse, specifically language in science and learning and development in this section according to a Vygotskian perspective. I will then review studies that examine discourse and specifically talk in science teaching and learning.

Vygotskian Discourse in Science Vygotsky‘s (1978, 1986) comprehensive theory of human psychology elaborates on the conceptual development of (a) the theoretical understandings of an individual person; (b) the social practices, beliefs, and communication systems of cultures; and (c) the higher psychological functions of humankind. According to Sanchez, (2005) ―Human cognitive development is rooted in social activity; social activity is rooted in culture; and culture emerges from the goal-driven actions of individuals and society‖ (p. 14). Other researchers maintain that culture transforms people and people transform culture as they engage in social interaction with others who are physically present or present through cultural artifacts, which include both language and text (Rogoff, 2003; Vygotsky, 1978, 1986; Wertsch, 1985). Spoken and written language or discourse work together and is the primary means of constructing knowledge among people in a socially interactive context as well as within an individual learner in the context of cognitive development, according to the Vygotskian theory of learning and development. These types of language as communicative devises empower people to take control over their mental and social functions as a psychological tool when they think and when they communicate with others (Vygotsky, 1978). As children develop maturationally as a result of formal and nonformal educational experiences, social language plays a substantial role in the development of conceptual understanding. These children are transcending the developmental stages of language development into a more refined understanding of their

world and the place the position themselves in the world. Vygotsky states that there are three stages in the development of speech: social or external speech, egocentric speech, and inner speech. The function of speech is at first social, used for contact and interaction with others. Vygotsky (1986) explains that the social function is the first function of speech. If we want to know how words function in an individual‘s behavior, we must take into account its former function in social context. Social speech carries out the task of communication and social relations with surrounding people. It is speech that children use to control the behavior of others. Children use speech to express simple thoughts and emotions such as crying, laughter and shouting. Egocentric speech is the link between external speech and internal thought. ―Egocentric speech is inner speech in its functions‖ (Vygotsky,1986, p.86). Egocentric speech is a stage distinguished by external signs and external operations that are used as aids to solve internal problems. That is the stage when the child counts on his fingers, resorts to mnemonic aids, and so on. This is typically the type of speech found in a three- to seven-year-old. Inner speech is similar to internal thought. The inner, soundless speech is a stage in which the external operation turns inward and undergoes a profound change in the process. Children begin to count in their heads and to use their "logical memory," that is, to operate with inherent relations and inner signs. This is the type of speech used by older children and adults. When functional and structural changes accumulate to a certain amount, inner speech occurs. ―It branches off from the child's external speech simultaneously with the differentiation of the social and the egocentric functions of speech, and finally that the speech structures mastered by the child become the basic structures of his thinking" (Vygotsky, 1986, p.94). The ability to engage in talk with peers and adults is a significant way those children bring discourse to the middle school classroom, although with varying and multiple degrees of experience and with diverse cultural meanings. As a child continues in school, not only do his or her cultural underpinnings continue to influence speech patterns, but for those children, peer influences during and after school also contribute to changing patterns of children's discourse (Gee, 2005). This development and contribution by peers becomes increasingly influential as the child matures throughout adolescence to

the upper middle school, junior high, and high school grades (Bateman, 2002; Corsaro, 1988; Csikszentmihalyi & Larson, (1986). Vygotsky‘s theory of socially constructed learning is indirect, but at its nucleus is the principle of the idea of ―spontaneous and scientific concepts.‖ This theory contends that ―spontaneous‖ ideas influence discourse. These ideas are primarily based upon direct experience with the physical and social worlds. They are usually constructed "bottom up" through every day tangible experiences. Scientific or ―non-spontaneous‖ concepts develop are developed "top down" as they are based upon abstractions represented by the language of a particular culture (Vygotsky, 1978; Dixon-Krauss, 1996, 2001). Through negotiated language patterns, these concepts are comprehensively developed and are less bound to a particular time and space as spontaneous concepts. The principle distinction between scientific and spontaneous concepts lies in their continuing development within the individual learner and within society (Vygotsky, 1986). I recall an incident from a later-identified Appalachian fifth grade child during the data collection. Dawn stated some ideas regarding animal life cycles to Sue and me; she argued that some tadpoles eventually become snakes. She was quite convinced that this occurrence was, in her opinion, quite evident. She tightly held onto her idea even though the entire class of her peers disagreed with her. When we asked her why she thought such a thing, she boldly looked at Sue and said, "Well, prove to me it's not true. So you are saying that every single tadpole in the history of tadpoles has grown up to become a salamander, frog or toad? You both know that for certain?‖ She continued on... ―I know I've seen tadpoles that change in the snakes. They are in my creek by my house. Where there were tadpoles, three months later there'd be snakes. They both have the same kind of bodies. ‖ It's truly hard to argue that both Sue and I could vouch for every single tadpole "since the history of tadpoles." Furthermore, Dawn‘s experiences of seeing snakes and amphibian tadpoles by first-hand observations on her own property verifies, in her own mind, that she has to be correct. Nothing so far had disproven her theory regarding these animals. We encouraged Dawn to think of ways that she might determine if all tadpoles would eventually transform into amphibians. We encouraged her to bring some tadpoles into her home next spring and keep them in an aquarium to determine how they might change. We unfortunately didn‘t have the opportunity to continue this

investigation. Interestingly enough, due to the class‘s astonishment that a fifth grader would still have such a misinformed belief, the children in the homeroom class systematically made it their mission to change her mind. Not one to bow to peer pressure, Dawn held on to her idea tightly over the course of the next following months to come. As Vygotsky might suggest, Dawn would have needed to have repeated experiences with both tadpoles, adult amphibians, and young and older snakes for her ideas to have truly changed. Just having the class try to convince her through dialogue wasn't enough. As in the Vygotskian psychology describing this language process, rather than confrontational in nature, concept development is dialogic; every day and scientific processes are truly interdependent (Vygotsky, 1986). While Dawn clearly was confrontational in her original assertion about tadpoles and snakes, as children and adults are reluctant to surrender their scientific understandings of natural phenomenon, her continued discourse with her peers brings this theory into light. Scientific concepts become more concrete and more meaningful as they are mediated by an individual's everyday concepts. Everyday understandings are repeatedly reorganized as the learner develops scientific concepts that not only allow but encourage him or her to more systematically define and have deliberate control over his or her everyday concepts (Dixon-Krauss, 1996; Cazden, 2001). Children in school groups interact in specialized ways when they problem solve together. Vygotsky (1986) agrees, stating: Instruction is one of the principal sources of the school child's concepts and is also a powerful force in directing their evolution... it determines the fate of his total mental development. During the course of development everything occurs twice. For example, in the learning of language, our first utterances with peers or adults are for the purpose of communication, but once mastered they become internalized and allow "inner speech. Thought undergoes many changes as it turns into speech (p. 157).

In fact, scientific or non-spontaneous concepts are most accurately embodied in English by the term ―schooled concepts‖ because they develop within a socially and historically situated context of formal education (Vygotsky, 1986). Throughout localized and universal societies, ―schooling‖ is a crucial means by which culture transforms individuals and individuals transform culture. Learners contextualize the scientific concepts of the school's culture, and the everyday concepts of diverse learners meet this

construction process (Dixon-Krauss, 1996; Rogoff, 1990). Discourse has the possibility to become particularly powerful in helping learners transform their thinking and their social environments as an aspect of the socially interactive context of classroom learning activity (Ashton, 1996; Gallas, 1995).

Sociocultural Paradigms and the Discourse of School Science One component of the distinctive role of discourse in learning is how it is used to communicate in the transformation of ideas and through culturally significant activity. Talking about science in schools is such an activity, and it is one of the many sociocultural ways of viewing and understanding the world, as "talking science" is a particular culturally meaningful way of talking about the world (Lemke, 1990). He adds in elaborating on the best community for the talking of science, ―One suggestion is that our curricula must work to ensure greater continuity in students‘ ways of experiencing as they move from one classroom to another and from classroom to hallway to neighborhood and home,‖ (Lemke, 2001, p. 310). One inference of this view toward science is that talking about scientific ideas, which are experienced in the classroom through such activities as inquiry-related student-generated investigations and the reading aloud of science texts and trade books, is truly a means of constructing a shared culture of science not only in the physical school setting, or space, but also with the particular culturally-situated group of participants doing the talk about science, the culture. How do space and culture influence discourse? Furthermore, in a science classroom in which all children's voices are equally privileged and where the understanding of diverse dialects, languages, and perspectives is sought, talking about scientific ideas in conjunction with students‘ various conceptions may promote "culturally relevant teaching". Culturally relevant teaching refers to instructional situations that are truly opportunities to engage with new "schooled" ideas through and with one's own culturally-based everyday concepts (Ladson-Billings, 1994). Over the past years, scholars have focused on instruction that is especially successful with students of color and students in poverty (Moses, 2002; Banks, 2006; Dowdy, 2002; Ladson- Billings, 1995, 2001). Based on her research, Ladson-Billings (1995) used the phrase culturally relevant pedagogy to describe teaching that rests on three main propositions. Students must experience

academic success. Students must develop and maintain their cultural competence. Students must develop a critical consciousness to challenge the status quo. Cochran- Smith (2004) stated that culturally responsible teacher education "prepares teachers to be respectfully sensitive to cultures of their students, to learn about and know the cultures of their students, and to use understandings about how culture influences learning in their day-today planning for teaching students‖(p. 20). Culturally informed teaching is best nurtured through study both of research and of continued instructional practice. Gay (2000) advises that teachers must become more culturally responsive by working to expand their knowledge of ethnically and culturally diverse heritages and social practices. Classroom discourse is worthy of intense study because of its role as a learning tool and its power to help learners make sense of science through the cognitive and social use of their everyday activities and ideas. In recent years the study of the teaching and learning of science has begun to focus away from specific curricular innovations, ―one- size-fits-all,‖ instructional techniques, and on viewing students as inactive receptacles of knowledge, and efforts have been refocused specifically on classroom discourse (Kyle, 1997; Gallas, 1994, 1995). This focus recognizes that people construct knowledge through language by talking and writing and this view is consistent with the significance of language in the "real world" of scientists where "communication is an attempt to create community of thought, a shared understanding‖ (Sutton, 1998, p. 28). These theoretical and practical contributions coincide with research trends that have developed over the past 20 years, during which an anthropological perspective of learning has gained popularity (Cobern and Aikenhead, 1998). This perspective of discourse in school science has broadened the view of all science education disciplines. These disciplines, and those who both practice them and study them, have begun to recognize that these science fields are more than static bodies of knowledge. This educational trend is evident in the assertion that school science should reflect real-world science and that real science is the work of men, women, boys, and girls, engaging and conversing in order to develop a shared and evidence-based understanding of the natural world (Gallas, 1995; Lemke, 1993; Sutton, 1998). In this section, I will discuss theoretical writings about school science discourse and how culture contributes to science talk in order to link this socio- historic theory to an ever-evolving viewpoint of science education. Later, I will review

research in the field of science education to emphasize the role of language in the teaching and learning of science and empirically illustrate a science perspective of school science.

Discourse as Communication and Meaning Making

Recently, science education researchers and theorists have begun to focus on the development of school science in the ways that scientific knowledge and meaning making has been presented in schooling. According to these theorists, science has often been misrepresented in school because social, linguistic, and cultural aspects are not significant components of classroom science activity (Tobin & Roth, 2006; Cobern & Aikenhead, 1998; Halliday & Martin, 1993; Lemke, 1993, 2000; Aikenhead, 2007; Sutton, 1998). The purpose of this section is to describe a perspective of science as a unique culture with particular meanings and ways of speaking, writing, and interacting with the social and material world. Science is a distinct system of traditionally situated activities in a social context from this sociocultural perspective. Those people who interact in realms of science construct the meaning of science activities as they make use of various tools of science. These science tools include concrete objects, or "hands-on" materials, as well as speech, language, gestures, formulas, diagrams, and various procedures, or "minds-on" features (Vytgotsky, 1986; Moje & Dillon, 2006; Cobern & Aikenhead, 1998; Lemke, 1990, 2000, Costa, 1995). Linking to this cultural view of science is an emphasis on a realistic portrayal of science in schools and is often the central role of language. Educators and theorists who focus on science as a culture emphasize that some practices of traditional science instruction, such as "cookbook-styled recipe-like" investigations, rigid question-answer sessions, and lessons conducted solely with the textbook, do not sufficiently represent true scientific work. The creative and social aspects of authentic science are often missing in science instruction and the science presented to children in the classroom is often only the open product of a great deal of repetitive science work (Gallas, 1995; Halliday & Martin, 1993; Lemke, 1990, 1993; Sutton, 1998; Roth, 1999, 2007). Cooperative communication among colleagues, attraction to science based on personal experiences, a combination of creative and critical thinking and an overlap of subjective and objective

ideas are characteristics of science experiences among scientists that are often not included in science experiences among learners and schools (Bowen & Roth, 2007; Gallas, 1995). Language is the primary concern in this misrepresentation. The spoken and written discourse of traditional school science frequently contributes to an inaccurate analysis of science among teachers and students (Sanchez, 2005; Halliday & Martin, 1993; Lemke, 1993; Sutton, 1998). Beyond that, teachers present science in a formulaic mode which is usually modeled after the laboratory sciences. ―…the model of science adopted by science educators is essentially that of the hard sciences, which may not be reflective of the many other science disciplines‖, (Bowen & Roth, 2007, p. 172). The interpretive use of discourse and language may be neglected as inauthentic, where experience-based and anecdotal questions are not asked and ideas are not expressed as ongoing questions but as proclamations of static fact. The language of school science is often focused on transmitting information rather than constructing knowledge. Such a focus neither successfully supports concept development nor represents culturally relevant teaching, according to the theoretical perspectives discussed previously. Science instruction, therefore, that situates science as both stagnant and culturally neutral may isolate and disaffect many learners. When science teaching and learning is seen as an opportunity to engage in "cultural border crossing," such alienations may be avoided (Aikenhead, 2002; Aikenhead & Jegede, 1999). Cultural border crossing, a phrase first made popular by Henry Giroux in 1991, while in the Department of Educational Leadership at Miami University, refers to participating in diverse cultures, "moving socially and cognitively" between one's everyday life-world and the dominant culture (Giroux, 1991). In this case, that dominant culture is school science. Learning with such a viewpoint is a construction process in which the experiences, practices, and conceptual development of a learner are considered to be significant and active in addition to the ―expert voice‖ of scientific knowledge and processes. The familiar and the scientific aspects of this learning process interact with one another in the thoughts and actions of those learners involved (Sanchez, 2005). The concept of cultural border crossing is related to the previously described discussions of spontaneous and schooled concepts. Children‘s everyday ideas, or spontaneous concepts, may be interpreted as emergent aspects of their home in their

cultures. By wrestling with scientific concepts, the children will engage in problem solving as their ideas through language will be considered aspects of the institution of school science (Vygotsky, 1978; Dixon-Krauss, 1996).

According to Sanchez, (2005): …children make meaning of schooled concepts as they transform their ideas through participation in classroom learning activity guided by their everyday concepts and (b) the schooled concepts simultaneously transform a learner's own everyday concepts. Cultural border crossing ―the scene of multiple perspectives and the making of deliberate choices among the possibilities is an aspect of developing scientific literacy (p. 20).

Children‘s‘ experiences with school science that reflect the culture of "real" science contribute to the development of scientific literacy. Such experiences may also contribute to students‘ later equitable access to opportunities related to science and their ability to "cross the border" into scientific ways of thinking when necessary in making decisions as consumers and citizens. Schooling that supports self regulated cognitive, social, and physical actions is important to development throughout childhood and for life-long process of becoming scientifically literate. Teaching that facilitates the crossing of cultural borders between everyday and the scientific ideas involved in socially interactive classroom communities is culturally relevant teaching (Gallas, 1995; Aikenhead & Jegede, 1999; Ladson-Billings, 1994).

A Specific Way of Knowing: Classroom Scientific Discourse Spoken and written discourse among scientists has specialized culturally meaningful and traditionally developed ways of using both spoken and written words to represent highly complex ideas and to construct understanding between members of a community (Lemke, 1990, 1993, 2000; Sutton, 1998; Sutton & Roth, 2007). As such, scientific discourse is a particular way of speaking or writing to communicate a specific way of knowing. This form of communication has been developed over a long history of use as the human practice of investigating the natural world has historically been identifiable by components including technical terminology and grammar. Too often, teachers over- essentialize [sic] scientific processes and content knowledge in hopes of "covering" more material during a given amount of science instruction time. This process

unfortunately reduces the valuable scientific discourse often occurring with scientists in laboratories are in the field and it distorts the central role that language as in the real work of scientists and limits students‘ access to science learning (Roth, 2006; Halliday & Martin, 1993). The model of teaching and learning as ―apprenticeship‖ is one way of translating authentic science practice into significant science teaching.

Apprenticeship Model Theory and Discourse The apprenticeship novice/expert model was grounded within current science education research. Duit and Treagust (2003) stated ―in the apprenticeship model, [that] the novice learner gets to be an expert through the mechanism of acculturation into the world of the expert.‖ When the novice preservice teacher entered the scientific laboratory of the expert scientist, the research experience was authenticated in a manner that educational methods or traditional science courses cannot replicate. The term authentic, as defined by Roth (1995), was ―the activity in which [the] learner engages has a large degree of resemblance with the activity in which core members of the community actually engage.‖ The apprenticeship model included the theories of social constructivism (Vygotsky, 1978) along with situated and distributed learning (Roth, 1995). The novice tacitly acquired methodological and procedural knowledge from the interpersonal or social interaction with the scientist. The novice then intrapersonalized, or individualized, this information.

Research on Adult Apprenticeship Models Schwartz, Lederman, & Crawford (2004) conducted and analyzed an apprenticeship model at a mid-sized Western university. Their study measured Nature of Science (NOS) beliefs –not inquiry abilities–by analyzing interviews, reflective journals, data journals, participant observations and pre- and post-questionnaires. The overall finding of their study ―suggested [that] the perspective held by the intern is perhaps the most critical factor in determining the learning outcomes in regard to NOS.‖ The participants needed a philosophical perspective combining NOS and inquiry; the researches believed that ―doing science is insufficient for one to adequately understand the NOS.‖ This particular model was utilized at a different college site with slight variations in the research experience; however, the results depicted the same NOS

conceptions (Schwartz, Lederman, & Crawford, 2004). As stated earlier, these particular studies were not measuring inquiry capabilities; however, they were examples of apprenticeship models incorporating an authentic science experience into their teacher preparation programs. A northeast land-grant institution and the National Radio Astronomy Observatory at Green Bank, West Virginia were the sites for another apprenticeship model experience (Pyle, Obenauf, Heatherly, DiBiase, Hemler, Govett, Evans, Gansneder, 1997). This model placed preservice and in-service teachers in a one to two-week summer research experience at the astronomy laboratory in Green Bank. Teachers conducted inquiry experiments with available science mentors and observatory equipment. From a generalized research problem, the teachers formulated research questions, collected and analyzed data and finally presented such data to the group. After the apprenticeship experience at the institute, the teachers planned, developed, implemented and evaluated a student-centered inquiry-orientated scientific investigation for their school. To reinforce the apprentice research inquiry experience, teacher educators utilized inquiry methods in their method‘s courses. Lastly, to increase the research transference into the classroom, all attempts were used to place the preservice science teacher with a mentoring teacher who was a previous Green Bank institute attendee. Hemler (1997) researched the Green Bank program by examining the effectiveness of the preservice apprenticeship component at the astronomy laboratory. From her classroom observations, Hemler (1997) cited ―five projects of the seven implemented by participants [as] successful research experiences for students.‖ Hemler‘s study contended that the astronomy laboratory apprenticeship remains a ―viable constructivist model for exposing preservice teachers to science research and transferring that experience to the classroom.‖ The program Science for Early Adolescence Teachers (Science FEAT) utilized the apprenticeship model for practicing middle school science teachers in North Florida and South Georgia (Spiegel, Collins, & Gilmer, 1995). As reported, these particular middle school science teachers had never ―engaged in the practice of science nor fully understood what scientists do.‖ Their apprenticeship involved 15 research facilities and provided 25 research opportunities, supporting a possible 81 placements. The FEAT

science teachers ―spent 75-100 hours during five weeks engaged in some aspect of research at a level beyond that of a technician. Also, each group produced a publishable quality abstract and presented a poster of their research.‖ In regards to the poster quality, one participating scientist responded that he ―could have taken any of those posters to a regional American Chemical Society meeting.‖ While much research has been conducted on teachers in the apprenticeship rule, little research and science education is been conducted on children being seen as an apprentice in science learning. This notion of student as apprentice has gained momentum in education in the past 15 years, especially in the area science education. How can the apprenticeship model be used with children during schooling?

Apprenticeship and School Settings Taken from the work of Barbara Rogoff (1990), the apprenticeship theory considers children as apprentices in thinking, active in their efforts to learn from observing and participating with ears and more skilled members of their society, developing skills to handle culturally defined problems with available tools, and building from these givens to construct new solutions within the context of sociocultural activity. Rogoff presents this framework for conceptualizing the development of mind in sociocultural context, building on the guidance provided by others (especially Vygotsky, Leontiev, Bruner, Piaget, Cole, Whiting, Wetsch and Trevarthen), through elaboration from discussing these perspectives with her peers in a sociocultural way of knowing. The applied view fits the general perspective that children's cognitive development is embedded in the context of social relationships and sociocultural tools and practices. The specific framework that Rogoff offers stresses three tenets: 1. Children's active role in making use of social guidance 2. The importance of tacit and routine arrangements of children's activities and their participation in skilled cultural activities that are not conceived as instructional 3. Cultural variation in both the goals of development and the means by which children achieve a shared understanding with those who serve as their guides

and companions through explanation, discussion, provision of expert models, joint participation, active observation, and arrangement of children's roles Rogoff developed the concept of guided participation to suggest that both guidance and participation in culturally valued activities are essential to children's apprenticeship in thinking. According to her, "Guidance may be tacit or explicit, and participation may vary in the extent to which children were caregivers are responsible for its arrangement. Guided participation involves children and their caregivers and companions in the collaborative processes of (1) building bridges from children's present understanding and skills to reach new understandings and skills, and (2) arranging and structuring children's participation in activities, with dynamic shifts over development and children's responsibilities. Children use social resources for guidance―both support and challenge―and assuming increasingly skilled roles in activities of a community (Rogoff, 1990). Rogoff also contends that ―culture matters‖ and this apprenticeship model also recognizes that not every culture is a carbon copy of another culture. For instance, the time table of child development and accepted ―developmentally appropriate‖ talk and behavior is completely culturally situated. Using that perspective as a springboard, current research and this project seeks to find ways that a particular cultured groups of children construct meaning through their discourse. Both children and the adults they encounter during a school day construct scientific discourse among each other as they interact with materials, ideas, and one another within the framework of an apprenticeship relationship (Gallas, 1995; Rogoff, 1990, 1995, 2003, Sanchez, 2005). The spoken and written language of the teacher, of peers, of parents, and of ―expert others‖ by way of previous experiences or cultural artifacts (e.g. science materials and informational text) are among the factors that contribute to children's participation in using these accoutrements of science. This continual, interactive development of classroom apprentice-expert relationships among teachers and students is congruous with the goals for science education as expressed by the National Science Education Standards (National Research Council, 1996). Language, thus, is the twine that binds the actual processes and products of science together. Language should be the foundation for creating a community of learners in which science is an aspect of what people know and are able to do in the many spaces they do science.

Research Studies of Science Discourse The studies included in the section informed the research questions and the theoretical perspective of the current study. These studies provide practical illustrations of the role of language in meaning making during school experiences, creating shared understandings among members of science learning communities, and constructing scientific concepts. While science discourse is now recognized as a justifiable research area, many studies exist representing the sociocultural processes of science discourse, as evidenced by the recent 334 page publication of R. Yerrick & W-M. Roth (Eds.), Establishing Scientific Classroom Discourse Communities: Multiple Voices of Research on Teaching and Learning (2005) which features numerous chapters specifically on science discourse. As such, a complete review of this literature would prove challenging. Spoken discourse was evidence of students‘ conceptual understandings in some studies (Panofsky, John-Steiner, & Blackwell, 1996; Shepardson, 1997; Tunnicliffe, 1997; van Zee, E. H., Iwasyk, M., Kurose, A., Simpson, D., & Wild, 2001; Vareless & Pineda, 2001). In others, the primary focus of analysis was overall science discourse, or the talk related to science as a particular sociocultural way of knowing and doing (Brown, 2006, 2007; Brown, Reveles, & Kelly, 2005; Gallas, 1995; Kurth, Kidd, Gardner, & Smith, 2002; Pappas, Varelas, Barry, & Rife, 2003; Segal, 1997; Varelas & Pineda, 1999). Both roles of classroom talk in this research is important in illuminating and binding the role of talk and science learning because together they include the individual, interpersonal, and community-institutional aspects of learning and development (Rogoff, 1995, 2003). In addition to the range of the uses of science talk, the studies I have reviewed also include participants of varying ages. While my primary interest is in science teaching and learning in the late intermediate grades, I've included research where the participants were from primary grades and higher because of the relevance of the theoretical perspectives of research methodologies. Following Sanchez (2005), I determined that a key factor in including a study in the following review is at the research features language in its "synthesis" function among humans — constructing scientific concepts or ―normal science‖ within and among people and creating a science discourse within communities of learners as they co-construct meaning. ―Normal science‖ is a concept originated by Thomas Kuhn and elaborated in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions

(1962). The term refers to the relatively routine work of scientists experimenting within a paradigm, slowly accumulating detail in accord with established broad theory, not actually challenging or attempting to test the underlying assumptions of that theory. Social constructivists contend that school science is ―abnormal science‖; school science is both artificially constructed and superficially applied to the curriculum.

Student Talk, Learning and Sense-Making In the seminal ethnographic study of the understanding and use of taxonomic categories in a fifth grade class, Panofsky, John-Steiner, and Blackwell (1990) analyzed the results of two individualize classroom-based tasks. These tasks consisted of a sorting task and oral retelling task. These researchers employed a sociocultural perspective based on Vygotsky‘s sociocultural theory of psychology. They observed and analyzed science discourse as evidence of students‘ internalization of scientific concepts during the open- ended experimental tasks using this perspective. The classroom context of the study included students‘ engagement in regularly scheduled teacher-led science discussions and their recurrent participation in an instructional game involving animal classification. Animal classification was the instructional focus in the classroom during the study period. Because the purpose of the study was to understand child thought, the researchers analyzed quantitative data to examine relationships between the speaking and thinking of an individual (Panofsky, et.al, 1990). They gathered these data by administering a series of the picture-sorting tasks to each child. Also, the researchers presented a film about the similarities and differences of the eyes of several animals and monitored the students‘ attention to the film. The film-viewing was followed by classroom discussion and the one-on-one retelling task. For the retelling task, each fifth- grader described the science content of the film to younger child. The adult researchers asked questions to the children in order to increase student talk throughout the discussion and the retellings. This discourse was then transcribed and analyzed by the researchers. Each child‘s performance on the two tasks was compared across task in order to relate and individuals thinking with what he or she said when answering adult questions. In this research on the understanding of child thought, Panofsky, et.al.(1990) contested that the development of the classification strategies they

investigated could only effectively be used within a "system of discourse" (p. 266) and that through this classroom discourse, teachers can gather evidence about their students‘ current level of conceptual development which will provide language construction within the students' zone of proximal development. These researchers set out to recognize the thinking process of these students by analyzing their talking, specifically their spoken answers to the questions, during open-ended tasks. Similarly, van Zee, Iwasyk, Kurose, Simpson, and Wild (2001) analyzed talk as evidence of student thinking. According to these teacher researchers, students‘ questions before, during, and after classroom science activity revealed the students‘ understanding of experiences specifically focusing on physical science concepts involved in that activity. As teachers and as researchers, these authors maintain that "when we invite students to ask questions, we are inviting them to display the knowledge they have available to formulate a question" (p. 182). This research project consisted of case studies of primary to college classrooms of the five researchers. By analyzing the content of dialogue involved in instructional activities across cases, the researchers acknowledged patterns in questioning by students and in questioning by teachers. The researchers represented these patterns as a series of assertions focusing invite student questions. Further, according to the authors, these features were related primarily to the actions of the teachers during instruction or the contexts they had purposely co-constructed with their students (van Zee, Iwasyk, M., Kurose, A., Simpson, D., & Wild, J., 2001). These contexts included an array of discourse structures, ranging from teacher directed lecturers to more interactive guided discussions between teachers and students thereby fostering inquiry discussions through ―science talk‖ based upon student-generated questions. According to their interpretations of classroom discourse within these various sociocultural structures, van Zee, et al. (2001) concluded that students ask questions when the teachers (a) employ them in discourse practices that explicitly resulted in student-oriented questions, (b) encourage and invite the children into "conversations about familiar contexts in which they had made many observations over a long time‖, (c) ―created comfortable discourse environments in which students could try to understand one another's thinking‖ (p. 171), and (d) involved all of the students in small collaborative groups. These researchers also

describe dilemmas that teachers face when leading science lessons for young learners. One of the most common dilemmas is hurrying through a concept so the next one can be ―covered.‖ The need to ―get through the lesson‖ can conflict with shifting toward science ―as argument and explanation‖ as advocated in the National Science Education Standards (NRC, 1996, p. 113). In reflecting upon discussions during a fifth grade life science lesson, for example, Abell and Roth (1995) acknowledged trying to ―funnel students to the right answer in our understanding of the scientific model. We accepted all ideas, but did little to facilitate a discussion in which ideas could be compared and evaluated‖ (p. 71). ―If, when, and how to do the latter are major dilemmas in guiding discussions‖ (van Zee et al., 2001).

In these supportive contexts, the teacher researchers employed question-asking techniques in their teaching to further support their students in developing the physical science concepts under investigation in the various classrooms. According to the authors, these techniques, like the assertions regarding student questioning, were consistent with the teaching practices advocated by the National Science Education Standards (National Research Council, 1996). The techniques included (a) asking questions to elicit students' everyday experiences and (b) encouraging clarity among one's own viewpoints, respect for the perspectives of others, and reflection on the meaning of the discussion of one's own ideas about it. These assertions regarding student and teacher questioning before, during, and after classroom science experiences demonstrate the importance of both science content and discourse processes for effective science instruction. Further, the assertions illustrate classroom science talk that mediates the dialogic relationship between everyday and scientific concepts (van Zee, et al., 2001). The work of van Zee, et. al. (2001) indicates the widening lens by which science is perceived by some researchers and educators —as a continually evolving culture, a creative human endeavor in which people interact with the physical and social environments and consciously consider and develop their thinking. One means of such interactions questioning. Asking questions about various phenomenons is a way a learner exerts control outwardly and inwardly (Vygotsky, 1986). This view of science and of questioning mandates more open-ended treatment of talk in the classroom; analysis of classroom discourse must not be limited to

the asking of questions by adults and answering by students as students need to generate their own questions and explore possibilities in finding solutions to those questions. A study examining young children's spontaneous comments and exclamations is similar to that of van Zee, et. al. (2001), who included in the data that students‘ talk, about questions, was not directly elicited by adult prompting. In the study, Tunnicliffe (1997) focused more fully on the unprompted articulations and vocal utterances of young children. Unlike the other studies in this section, these children who were nine years old and younger, this study focused on children as they visited a local and a farm. As such, these researchers also examined the impact of a field trip setting on student talk. In order to compare the types of children's comments brought about by observing the animals within the different contexts of captivity and degrees of domestication and familiarity, the researcher recorded and transcribed conversations among children and the child-initiated conversations between children and adults. She then analyzed the transcripts according to a coding system based on the characteristics of the animals and the setting in which they were observed by the children. This purpose was to decide the characteristics and behaviors of the animals that prompted the children's talk by identifying themes across the whole set of comments. As in the previous studies, talk was evidence of children's thinking; however, Tunnicliffe (1997) principally deconstructed the content of students‘ talk rather than its function.

Current Sociocultural Perspectives in Science Education While cognitive constructivists have contended that scientific method leads to an ―objective‖ truth, from a space of autonomous scientific reasoning, social constructivists have troubled the notion that there is an autonomous or objective truth, arguing instead that all truth is discursive production, and that all discourse is culturally and historically specific and inseparable from power. Thus, ―normal‖ science has served the interests of dominant groups. Lemke (2000) asks, ―What does it mean to take a sociocultural perspective on science education?‖ He suggests that most basically, it means viewing science, science education, and the research on science education as human social activities conducted within institutional and cultural frameworks. He continues to propose that by adopting a sociocultural perspective means to viewing objects regarding

science learning as "social activities". It also means "giving substantial theoretical weight to the role of social interaction: seeing it, as in the Vygotskian tradition (Vygotsky, 1963; Leontiev, 1978; Cole, 1985), to be central unnecessary to learning and not merely ancillary.‖ (p. 296). Interpersonal social interaction—whether collaboration in a laboratory or dialogue in the classroom—is only the smallest scale of social activities. Sociocultural theory proposes that such cooperative human activities are only possible because we all grow and live within larger scale social organizations, or institutions: family, school, church, community center, research lab, university, corporation, etc. Children‘s lives within these institutions and their associated communities give them tools for making sense of the lenses to those around them: languages, mediated conventions, believe systems, value systems, and specialized discourses and practices. Such tools for living collectively constitute the culture of community (Lemke, 2000). How children learn, how they talk, jump, sing, what they believe and what they value are all unique to them and each occasion. They are also usually somehow typical of people with lives like theirs, including people of that time and place, of their gender, class, and race (although these terms are usually used as overly-simplifying large categories of identity and as such, cultural artifacts, according to Lemke). Socioculturally, an existing cultural perspective on science education also challenges and disputes previously held norms. Its most basic belief is that humans do not know why they act as they do; they only know a few local reasons on a certain timescale within a limited range of contexts. Furthermore, humans do not know all the other reasons that arise from the functioning of their actions in far larger and more distant contexts and on longer timescales. Concerning research, this view seeks to illuminate problems that may arise from their limited view of the larger systems they inhabit, and to identify just how their actions occur in larger scales (Lemke, 2000). Linguistically speaking, a sociocultural perspective in science education examines how people learn to talk and write the languages of science as they engage in its wide range of sub-culturally specific activities that include both skills and processes of doing science and signifying practices. As opposed to a Chomskian view of language that purports language as an automatic, ―genre guided machine for correct syntax,‖ (Lemke, 2000, p. 298) researchers who study the functions of language and social interactions

begin to see language as a culturally transmitted resource or "tool‖ for making meaning socially (Halliday, 1978; Martin, 1992; Schegloff, 1991; Mishler, 1984; Lemke, 1990; Bazerman, 1988; Gee, 1990). While language is just one of these tools, in this sociocultural view, what matters most is that learning and doing science is primarily the socially-learned cultural traditions of the kinds of discourses and representations that are useful and how they are used (Lemke, 2000). As mentioned previously in a discussion of social constructivism, conceptual change science teaching has been a predominant form of instruction over the past 20 years. While many scholars still contend that such instruction promotes sufficient learning in all students, (Kahle, 2000; Posner, Strike, Hewson, & Gertzog, 1982; Duckworth, 1987), others recognize (Lemke, 2000; Aikenhead, et al., 1999) that such perception constitutes only a partial reality and ignores the overarching cultural contributions that learners face an ongoing daily basis.

Changing your mind is not simply a matter of rational decision-making. It is a social process for social consequences. It is not simply about what is right or what is true in a narrow rationalist science; it is always also about who we are, about who we like, but who treats us with respect, about how we feel about ourselves and others. In a community, individuals are not simply free to change their minds. The practical reality is that we are dependent on one another for our survival, and all cultures reflect this fact by making the viability of police contingent on their consequences for the community. It is another falsifications science to pretend to students and anyone can or should live by extreme rationalist principles. It is often unrealistic even to pretend the classroom themselves are close communities which are free change their collective minds. Students and teachers need to understand how science and science education are always a part of larger communities and their cultures, including the sense in which they take sides in social and cultural conflicts, and thus, extend far beyond the classroom (Lemke, 2000, p. 301).

The conceptual change approach to instruction and science education first occurred with the teacher led observation that many students come to the science classroom with "alternative" ways of understanding everyday phenomenon. It was traditionally argued that much of the responsibility of science education should be giving the students opportunities to change their minds on the basis of what the scientific tradition considers good evidence coupled with solid grounds on which to defense one's beliefs. Many university-driven teacher workshops proceeded to inspire many teachers to

"see the light" of conceptual change teaching throughout the 1980s and 1990s. These teachers soon realized that students hold onto their scientific misconceptions or naïve conceptions much more vigorously than had ever been assumed or researched. Proponents of conceptual change teaching failed to realize the importance of culture. A sociocultural perspective of science education helps clarify some of these challenges. There is the issue of whether children‘s alternative conceptions and those of the European scientific tradition along to any singular common framework within which there can be agreed upon criteria and evaluation. The choice between multiple scientific explanations can be made only because they all belong to a common tradition, with similar rules of evidence and argumentation. The cultures of everyday life also seek knowledge and explanation, but often for quite different purposes. The criteria of validity are often quite different. When teachers and researchers begin to go beyond the traditional scope of Eurocentric cultures, or even middle-class subcultures, what counts as knowledge and what qualifies as explanation may also be quite apparently different? Whereas cognitive constructivism, based on learning theories by Piaget (2000, 2001), is focused on the learner who is continually accommodating and replacing new ideas with ones that don't always "make sense," and who also eagerly desires to reach "accommodation" thereby trading in the old ideas for new ones gladly, in the theory of social constructivism (Vygotsky, 1963), the learner has contributing, influential culturally-produced discourses which influence the learning process continually.

Talk As Arbitrator of Classroom Culture

In another study involving young children through high school students, discourse was presented as evidence of children's thinking as well as a mediator or arbitrator of work among students engaged in collaborative small-group activities in science (Shepardson, 1997, 2007). According to Shepardson (1997), ―children's understandings of scientific phenomenon prior to school are shaped not only by their everyday experiences with the phenomenon, but are also shaped by the language in perspective others bring to explain the science phenomenon at hand‖ (p. 873). In this study, the authors sampled students of teachers who had participated in an-inquiry-based professional development project (Shepardson, 2007). The teachers in the workshop were

made to administer ―The Watershed Task,‖ a student task based on previous draw and explain tasks in science education (Osborne and Freyberg, 1985; White and Gunstone, 1992). Given a series of specific written prompts including, ―Draw, then explain what you think a watershed is,‖ and ―Describe the water flow in the watershed,‖ were given to each small group of students. While students completed an individual drawing, small groups of students were to share their ideas with one another. Inductive analyses were conducted and revealed that students‘ talk with their peers allowed these learners to influence the thinking of others and to change their own ideas as they consciously considered them alongside those of their peers. Changes in students' personal ideas about the watersheds were evident in the altered drawings of the students after they discussed and shared their ideas with one another. The effect of the small-group interaction was inferred through cross-referencing the primary data of the drawings for the secondary data field notes and videotapes. Shepardson (2007) further investigated the connections he perceived through interviews with the individual informants. Talk was primarily a source of data, but in the context of the small-group interaction, talk was also conceptualized as a tool for learning —a way to bring ideas fundamental to the social setting in order construct knowledge about a specific science concept. In this study and as earlier discussed, science classroom talk brings an individual's ideas to the social context. The social interaction about those ideas may also serve to transform what is inside a child's mind (Heywood & Parker, 1997). This power of language to transform learners and their communities was the focus in the longitudinal classroom-based research of Gallas (1995). The power of language to change learners and their communities was the focus in the longitudinal classroom-based research of Gallas (1995). As in the work of van Zee, et.al. (2001), questions were a significant aspect of science teaching and learning in this study. In Gallas‘ research (1995), questioning was not the object of study but the root of elaborately detailed classroom discussions. These discussions were the primary focus of analysis. According to Gallas, such negotiations are a way to maintain the sense of wonder that is an authentic part of science learning. She claims that "the separation of creativity, imagination, and wonder from the pursuit of science is artificial and disruptive to the development of children at any age" (p. 102).

In the research write-up, Gallas (1995) states, "I am working to extend scientific literacy to all children by tending to the construction of a discourse in my classroom‖ (p. 99). Throughout a period of six years, Gallas and her students created communities of learners where the children's everyday concepts became part of the shared cognitive and sociocultural tapestry of the classroom through ongoing respectful, imaginative, playful, and science-focused conversations. She had multiple purposes as a teacher researcher that included, (a) listing students ideas and questions to oral language so that this language could be used as a tool for scientific concept development, (b) including all her students and important task of building a classroom discourse of science, and (c) analyzing classroom discourse for evidence that her students were indeed appropriating, or transforming and taking ownership of, "the language, attitude, mind, and psyche of the scientist" (Gallas 1995, p.99). Based on these purposes, Gallas engaged groups of children over time and scheduled, child-centered discussions designed to focus on a well- defined topic. This topic was a question that emerged from the scientific social life of the classroom and represented a scientific depth that even formally educated scientists engaged in discussions would be challenged to answer. A few examples of the questions are "How the plants grow?" (p. 21), "Does the universe end?‖ (p. 24), and "Is voice matter?‖ (p. 62). According to Gallas (1995), discussing such questions engages and challenges students, with their rich cultural backgrounds, in determining the content of school science and this sociocultural perspective deemphasizes the central role of the teacher is the leader in "talking science." These science talks constructed science as a particular way of talking about the world (Halliday & Martin, 1993; Lemke, 1990, 2000). Furthermore, in Gallas‘ work, science discourse is a way of talking about the world in which even the youngest children can participate effusively, not just to share their ideas and to gain information from an ―expert‖, but to convert ideas and be converted as learners (Gallas, 1995). Gallas‘ (1995) research demonstrates that by encouraging children to contribute in an inquiry-based hands-on science activity with continual social interactions, educators and researchers can add to the construction of a discourse of science in the elementary or middle school classroom. In the context of the science discussions, or post theories, participate in the complexities of investigating what

fascinates and confuses them-even if they did not yet fully understand particular scientific information. According to Vygotsky (1978, 1986), this development of language is the activity to which a person participates becomes the thought structures with which he or she approaches future activities. Questioning and theory building are powerful and productive ways of thinking for children to begin to develop in their continuation in the years they spend in both formal schooling and non-formal science settings. These thought processes are of significance to children as learners in both formalized and nonformal school settings and as learners and decision-makers in their communities and in society at large (Sanchez, 2005). Crawford, Kelly, and Brown (2000) also examined the construction of science discourse acts and the appropriation of science practice in the classroom. They conducted an ethnographic study involving late primary and intermediate students with the same teacher over a two-year period. These researchers viewed the classrooms as communities of learners. Part of the role of science discourse, according to Crawford, et. al. (2000), is to bring to the classroom culture of science the multiple sociocultural perspectives of the learners. The role of the teacher in supporting such clustering science discourse suggests "orchestrating student conversations, considering issues of equity and small group work, and balancing the tensions between students' ideas and disciplinary knowledge" (Crawford, et.al., 2000, p. 11). As these were aspects of the teacher‘s practice featured in this study, and their influence upon the science practices of her third-grade students, who were her fourth-graders the following academic year, were the focus of the researcher's' observations and analyses. The findings point out that in their third-grade year, the student participants and their teacher had co-constructed a scientific discourse and a shared set of scientific practices. These practices included; observation of a phenomena; articulation of one's own and others' ideas; presentations of data; and consensus-building among the members of the community for learners. The children's words and actions confirmed an emergent knowledge of scientific information and increasing ability to engage in scientific investigation. For example, in one particularly significant series of events during the second academic year, the co-constructed ways of engaging in science practice were observed and analyzed in the context of spontaneous individual and class investigations of marine science questions. The questions were based upon students'

observations of animals and the classroom aquarium during the regularly scheduled free time in the classroom. One student-initiated inquiry centered on marine animals and was specifically curious about a sea anemone and whelk and their perceptible physical attachment in the aquarium. This investigation put to use the range of scientific capabilities of the learning community, including communicating with a zoologist and making key decisions based on scientific as well as ethical factors (whether or not to separate the two creatures). Such classroom experiences, like Gallas‘ (1995) science talks, allowed the students opportunities to engage in the sociocultural practice of science the classroom scientific discourse in which members the community "articulate ideas, explain the reasoning, and respect the ideas of their peers" (Crawford, et al., 2000, p.27).

Classroom Discourse Learning as a Context for Learning and Development Varelas and Pineda (1999) conducted a qualitative case study that is a good example of a project focusing on classroom science conversations. This study centered on how the children constructed meaning of scientific concepts through ―the ebb and flow of conversational rhythms‖ (p. 23) and how they constructed shared understandings of these concepts with the teacher. The setting for this study was the second author's fifth grade classroom. As the teacher, Pineda planned and implemented science lessons according to a science perspective of teaching and learning based mostly upon the work of the Vytgotsky (1978, 1986). His main goal for science instruction was to aid his students in developing and taking ownership of ideas that also were consistent with accepted scientific views (Varelas & Pineda, 1999, p. 26). The school was supported by dynamic classroom conversations that took place before, during, and after conducting experiments and gathering information related to the science physical science concept under investigation. Friction was the instructional topic during this study. As the primary goal of this research project matched the overall instructional goal, the teacher and the researcher were both theoretically and epistemologically in sync. As the children engaged in meaning-making during classroom science conversations, the sequential conversations were observed and analyzed. The purpose of this research was to find out the extent to

which the teacher successfully balanced "on one hand, his need to actively involv in students during making meaning, and, on the other hand, is need help them construct predetermined understandings that have been scientifically accepted" (Varelas & Pineda, 1999, p. 25). The authors used the term "intermingling" to describe the phenomenological times when the teacher and the students were successful in creating this balance between every day and the scientific ideas through discourse. ―Bumpiness‖ referred to those instances when the classroom community did not construct shared understandings. Such situations seemed to be related to how well the teacher was able to (a) understand the everyday common experience-and perception-based ideas of the students, (b) assist them in clarifying and extending their ideas, (c) organize multiple ideas expressed by the group and order to meeting of them collaboratively, and (d) collaborate with the students to build these ideas toward alignment with accepted scientific knowledge. The authors of this research offered numerous suggestions for science instruction within the classroom based upon the findings. One suggestion was to provide the fifth graders with many opportunities to express their developing ideas privately in their own journals in addition to publicly through class discussion. Another suggestion was to allow time for free exploration of a concept using various materials prior to engaging in whole class discussions of the concept. Varelas‘ and Pineda‘s (1999) instructional concerns supporting the intermingling of students‘ everyday concepts or widely accepted scientific concepts and classroom science discourse is similar to the idea of conceptual change but with a layered sociocultural approach to instruction.

Influences of Science Discourse Social constructivism, as a theory, relies on the mutual acknowledgment that learners must collectively have the ability to use language to process their ideas during a given shared problem to solve. What happens when such an opportunity doesn‘t exist for young, often marginalized learners? In this section, I now turn to obstacles that may block marginalized students from participating in a discursive community of scientists where all voices are welcomed.

Authoritative Discourse Mikhail Bakhtin and others in the Bakhtin circle, including Medvedev and Voloshinov, developed their ―situational model of language that accentuates the social and concrete character of practical speech ‗acts‘‖ (Klancher, 1989, p. 84) as a response to the often doctrinaire language theories of Saussure and Stalin. From a critical perspective of discursive practices, one that views a non-unified or conflicting usage of language rather than one common language, Bakhtin provided the sociolinguistic notions of dialogic rhetoric and heteroglossia. Bakhtin used the term heteroglossia to mean the state of conflict between centralizing and descentralizing forces in language that contextually determine its meaning. The notion of ―dialogism,‖ as explained by Bakhtin (1981) is: …the characteristic epistemological mode of a world dominated by heteroglossia. Everything means, is understood, is a part of a greater whole–there is a constant interaction between meanings, all of which have the potential of conditioning others. Which will affect the other, how it will do so and in what degree is what is actually settled at the moment of utterance. This dialogic imperative, mandated by the pre-existence of the language world relative to any of its current inhabitants, insures that there can be no actual monologue. One may, like a primitive tribe that knows only its own limits, be deluded into thinking there is one language, or one may, as grammarians, certain political figures and normative framers of ‗literary languages‘ do, seek a sophisticated way to achieve a unitary language. In both cases the unitariness [sic] is relative to the overpowering force of heteroglossia, and thus dialogism. (p. 426)

It is through the lens of dialogism that this research views classroom interactions. Bakhtin describes authoritative discourse as a ―privileged language that approaches us from without; it is distanced, taboo, and permits no play with its framing context‖ (1981, p. 424). Because of its very nature of holiness and absoluteness, we are required to entirely accept the authoritative word, according to Bakhtin, as we cannot divide the authoritative word into parts to be accepted to various degrees. However, Bakhtin does allow some variety in levels of contact of authoritative discourse to the receiver; ―authoritative discourses may embody various contents: authority as such, or the authoritativeness of tradition, of generally acknowledged truths, of the official line and other similar authorities‖ (1981, p. 344). For Bakhtin (1981), discourses can be divided into the almost, but not entirely, mutually exclusive categories of authoritative and internally persuasive discourses. Bakhtin posits authoritative discourse is in conflict with and opposition to

internally persuasive discourse. Internally persuasive discourse is a restating of text after personal internalization and interpretation. Bakhtin admits that a discourse can simultaneously be authoritative and internally persuasive. According to Bakhtin (1981), authoritative discourse characterizes his theory of authoritative discourse as "the word of the fathers," in which previous external knowledge demands a "simultaneously internally persuasive" acknowledgement (p. 532). Bakhtin explains further that this authoritative word is met with its influence intact and is therefore perceived as truth, finding its way into the point of view in which everything is examined. Authoritative language requires complete commitment to its authority. Given its absolute authority also requires that the follower accepts as true the "entire context framing it" and it "enters our verbal consciousness as a compact and indivisible mass" with no freedom to reject parts of the ideology when it no longer suits (Bakhtin, p. 533). Internally persuasive discourse is that discourse embedded and often hidden discourse which causes us to act or react to dialogic stimuli. There is an ever- constant disequilibrium between the "shoulds" and "woulds" one faces and it is through language that is disequilibrium ebbs and flows. There is the centripetal, or the tendency toward the norm which is embodied in authoritative discourse, and the centrifugal force, or the push against authority, the refusals, the breaks-the imaginative space-that constitute internally persuasive discourse...authoritative discourse demands our allegiance...internally persuasive discourse is tentative, suggesting something about one's own subjectivity and something about the subjectivities and conditions one confronts. It is the dialogical relation—between authoritative and internally persuasive discourse— that allows each discourse its fluidity, constraints, and possibilities. The struggle for voice begins with this dialogic relation. (Britzman, 1992, p. 32)

In most cases, there is an opposition between these two forms of language. What are the connections between this discussion of Bakhtin‘s rhetoric and the teaching and learning of science? One of the most crucial aspects of discourses are that they ―have a social interactional aspect, with a basis in social relations of power; this regulates how positionings come about and how evaluations are made‖ (Morgan, Evans, & Lerman, 2002). I suggest that both authoritative and internally persuasive discourses are always present in any science classrooms that utilize some form of communication. In particular, I focus on the ways that various pedagogical practices, specifically discursive practices, reveal the presence of these authoritative discourses. The application of the theories of

Bakhtin to science education, while not novel, is relatively unusual (e.g. Lemke, 2000; Brown, 2006). Transformations in science education are being made to engage students in patterns and talk, or modes of "argumentation," which are characteristic of authentic science (Driver, Newton, & Osborne, 2000; Duschl & Osborne, 2002; Brown & Kelly, 2007). Whereas students are encouraged to argue ideas and talk through the processes and about the content of science, tensions exist between how much authoritative discourse students are actually given by teachers. One recent study examined these tensions. Scott, Mortimer, Lee, Engeström, Reveles, Kelly, & Durán (2006) set out to transform traditional dialogic discourse in one high school science class in Brazil. Following Phillip‘s (1995) suggestion that the participants structures of science classroom should change so as to "overcome the barriers of traditional classroom participant structures wherein the teacher does most of the talking and students participate by responding to teacher questions and receiving a violation of their responses‖ (Cornelius & Herrenkohl, 2004). The aim of these researchers was to propose what Engel and Conant (2002) called ―productive disciplinary engagement.‖ According to these researchers,

Productive disciplinary engagement occurs when students are strongly engaged in a discussion, when that discussion makes strong contact with the academic discipline or disciplines that they are learning about, and when intellectual progress is made over the course of the discussion. Productive disciplinary engagement is viewed as a crucial prerequisite for learning, one which complements evidence derived from pre/post measures by providing information about the learning process that can be observed during a discussion itself (2002).

These researchers concluded that these common features of students‘ discourse were to be considered as evidence of their greater disciplinary engagement. More students make substantive contributions to the topic under discussion. These contributions are in coordination with each other. Few students are involved in the ―off-task‖ activities and students express passionate involvement in a re-engaging continue to be engaged in the topic over a long period of time (Scott, et al., 2006, p.402). Engel and Conant (2002) suggest four principals for fostering productive disciplinary engagement, and these principles include: problem enticing content; giving students authority; holding students accountable to others and to disciplinary norms; and providing relevant resources. These

researchers used a Vygotskian social constructivist framework to center their study.―We consider that science teaching entails a kind of public performance on the social plight of the classroom. This performance is directed by the teacher who is planned to be a script for the performance and takes the lead in staging (Leach & Scott, 2002) the various activities of the science lessons‖ (Scott, Mortimer, & Aguiar, 2006). These researchers audio recorded high school science classes with two teachers in the area of physics. They then transcribed the recordings from Portuguese to English. As the two physics teachers were encouraged to give non-evaluative responses when conducting physics lab lessons, the high school students continually looked towards the teachers for the final "correct" answers. They were relinquishing their discourse to the authority of the teachers. The researchers concluded that teachers need to be continually aware of their authoritarian discourse and continually search for ways of making their classrooms more dialogic in nature.

Language as the Cultural Gatekeeper to Doing Science What about those students who are representative of marginalized cultures in science? Culture often reshapes the foundation in which student discourse occurs and knowledge is constructed in a science classroom. Gilbert and Yerrick (2001) suggested ongoing insight into how the many disparities between culture and accepted scientific practices arise through examinations of how cultural reproduction influenced the process of assimilation into science classrooms. These researchers claimed that school socialization reflected students understanding of their position in the larger society. They found that students were pressured to choose between either the "marginalized subculture" or the "dominant school culture" (p. 584). They also discovered that students who gained acceptance in the marginalized subculture resisted the dominant school culture, alienated themselves from mainstream cultural endeavors, and found common ground in estrangement and indifference in academic achievement. Those children who participated in the dominant school cultures characteristically lost membership in the marginalized sub-culture. Those African-American students who chose to participate in this dominant school culture were accused of "trying to be of another race" (p. 584.). Unfortunately, students in science classes who live at the margins of society also exist

within the margins of schooling. They have to choose dominant discursive practices that prevent them from carrying on their culture as they practice science. They often resist being labeled a ―wannabe‖ and choose an identity which prevents them from successfully engaging in scientific practice and discourse. While studies on science discourse and schooling that identify the role of discourse as the gatekeeper in the acculturation of new learners (Collins, Palincsar, & Magnusson, 2005; Lee & Fradd, 1998; Smarden, 2004), Brown (2006) suggests that these students would benefit by ―conceptualizing language as a social construct that reflects the values, beliefs, and sociopolitical affiliations of each speaker.‖ (p. 99). As Lemke (1990) suggests, ―You can't use a new language unless you change the consciousness that is tied to the old one.‖ (p. 22). It is because of this issue that appropriating changes in the consciousness associate with science language use that invokes a need to investigate this relationship and its implications and science education. Students may choose to avoid certain linguistic forms in an effort to maintain their personal identities and group affiliations (Brown, 2004; Fordham, 1996; Ogbu, 1994). This view of consciousness reflects the broader notion of discourse in which language is not merely a selection of words to reflect ideas, but a recurrent cultural process in which language is used to exchange textual, political, and interpersonal messages. Languages can be seen as a resource for signaling one's identity as well as a resource for maintaining discursive, cultural, and political identity (Gee, 2000). Science involves the careful balance of interpersonal relationships among children, teachers, and the often arbitrary and artificially-created group of learners placed together in a classroom or grade. As opposed to the traditional notion of science being a sterile, impersonal and content-based paradigm, researchers assert that the learning of science and its associated discourse reflect membership into a complex and multifaceted authoritative social framework (Cameron, Frazer, Harvey, Rampton, & Richardson, 1992). ―The discourse of science education often acts as a key mediator to access knowledge in science learning and suggests that the way knowledge is constructed in science involves the implementation of these complex and cultured language frames and their associated scientific knowledge.‖ (Brown, 2006, p. 99). The often culturally complicated nature of language, identity, and classroom learning becomes increasingly intense as students are acculturated into science classrooms. While in elementary public school classroom spaces, teachers typically

promote traditional dialogic science communities with a goal of passing a standardized test, in formalized secondary schooling spaces, scientific learning communities typically seek the dual roles of creating future science professionals and at the same time, ―producing scientifically literate citizens through a pedagogy that involves socializing students in the conceptual content and epistemologies characteristic of the disciplines of science‖ (Brown, 2006). In school settings, instructional practices, while either accidentally or more obviously, favor students from particular backgrounds with more privileged ways of speaking (Barba, 1993; Lemke, 1990; Brickhouse, 1994). As a result, classroom science discourse has the opportunity to reflect these cultural inequalities and whether inadvertently or obviously, such rigidity in acceptable classroom discourse may potentially separate budding scholars of science by lines of race, gender, or class. How do minority students navigate through a discourse that is often not their own and more often, a scientific discourse that alienates them from mainstream conversations? Brown (2006) examined this question regarding how one group of African- American ninth and tenth grade high school students negotiated and entered into their first high school science content course. Brown asserts, ―Although the acculturation of values, epistemic beliefs, and genres of discourse consistent with those of science can provide learners with educational and social opportunities, there are also potential cultural costs. In many cases, the cost of cultural appropriation can create interpersonal conflict for minority students who must balance the tension between their academic and personal identity‖ (Brown, 2006, p. 96). In an ethnographic study of an urban high school in Southern California, the ethnically diverse students in one science teacher‘s classroom laboratory were studied. The high school averaged 4000 students a year on its urban campus. Fifty two percent of the student population lived below the then federally defined poverty line of $17,000.00 per household annually. Focus group interviews were conducted as a means to provide students the opportunity to engage in conversations to explore their perceptions of the culture of one science classroom. Using a semi-structured interview protocol, along with small groups to encourage student participation, the researcher asked the students from biology classes about their experiences in science. The students were asked to what degree they felt included or alienated from classroom conversations over the course of

one school year. Using audio-taped transcriptions, the researcher developed cross-case themes based on how the students responded to questions. Multiple domains were created in regard to how the students perceived their personal success in science. Some domains included; 1. Science discourse, where many student responses explored the nature of science discourse; 2. Discussing the nature, style, depth, origins, and necessary styles of discourse; 3. Hands-on activities, as there were large numbers of students who used the term "hands-on" to describe the nature of the science classroom. The students engaged in conversations in which they evaluated influences of "hands-on" science in their learning and focus; 4. A work ethic, where many discussions occurred during the course of the interviewing which led conversations to revolve around the roles of a student‘s work ethic in relation to success in the science classroom; 5. Difficulties of science, where a small number of students provided the in interviewer with detailed descriptions of the difficulties they experience the science classes; 6. Perceptions of scientists, while the students were engaged in conversations about scientific problem-solving, a series of responses address this issue by providing the students perceptions of a scientist; 7. Identity issues, as a group of students carried on conversations that addressed the role of identity issues in science learning, and these discussions were coded in the identity issues domain; and finally, 8. ―Miscellaneous", where a number of responses occurred with little frequency and were subsequently coded in the "things without codes" category. These comments were reviewed to examine the relationship to other domains and were basically "domain-less."

Brown (2006) found that science discourse for the students was truly a problematic component of science learning. As the students identified the challenges they encountered with science discourse, they provided eight practical answers to the research

questions that underscored his investigation. This researcher found ultimately that, "The highly political nature of public discourse and its connection to student identity presented students with the challenge of balancing their identity with their use of science discourse." (p. 121). Moreover, he found that based on students‘ language and reactions to the questions asked in the interviews, the students found it difficult to embed a sense of self in the language practices of these science classes. The students held strong beliefs that science was a unique discursive occurrence that only was applicable inside the science classroom culture. Although English as a second language learners in these classrooms had the most difficulty through the process of cultural negotiation, English- speaking minority students expressed almost as much difficulty in surrendering their cultural identity as a non-native English-speaking students. In other words, even though the students were able to "talk the talk," they didn't see the value in "walking the walk" in dominant science discourses. Now I turn to a discussion of the Appalachian culture in particular.

Appalachian Culture and Identity Formation Defining the term "culture" can be a colossal challenge. The word itself can take on as many meanings as those who describe the concept. As such, I use two definitions to help narrow my meaning of this term. As defined by Nieto (2002), culture is ―the ever changing values, traditions, social and political relationships and worldview created and shared by a group of people bound together by a combination of factors that can include a common history, geographic location, language, social class, and/or religion‖ (p. 53). I embrace Weber‘s (1958) view of culture as he describes that ―Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun.‖ I also agree with Geertz (2000) who contends that the webs signify culture. Like Geertz (2000), I take culture to be not only those webs, ―but the analysis of it to be therefore not in experimental science in search of the law, but an interpretive one in search of meaning‖ (Geertz, 2000). Cultural identity is characteristically singular as just one of many other types of identity held by members of a group. These other identities can include social class, race, religious identity, gender and gender identity. Cultural identity and social class identity are not

mutually exclusive concepts as both identity forms must be taken into account for a complete understanding of a cultural group.

An equally challenging task is defining the term, ―Appalachian‖ as Appalachian identity is a dynamic and ever-changing phenomenon for people who self-identify as Appalachian. Regional ethnographers tend to stress that mountain people are regularly characterized by cultural traits and as such, they seem to suggest the existence of a singular mountain identity. Interestingly, these scholars rarely address the issue directly (Beaver, 1986; Bryant, 1981). In the few examples in the Appalachian studies research where Appalachian identity is addressed, writers either present identity as the result of external forces, such as stereotypes and discrimination (Blisard, 2000; Campbell, 2000;Williams, 2004), or they entail the process of urban migration to areas outside the region and the social and economic structure of cities (Obermiller, Wagner, & Tucker, 2000). Throughout this project, I define ―Appalachian‖ as a cultural identity of either referring to a cultural identity tied geographically to Appalachian mountain culture, but also including ―displaced‖ Appalachian people living in Northern communities. Taking on an Appalachian identity is not always readily seen in positive ways as many Appalachian people have not only faced the challenges of other minority groups (Obermiller, et.al, 2000; Berry, 2000; Bryant, 1981), but since Appalachians are often of European descent, those who were once Appalachian choose to avoid such a label. Like Borman (1994), I concentrate my definition of Appalachian identity on the actual mountain range as a geographic marker of identity as well as a cultural indicator in shaping rich and varied identities. The definition includes those people who currently live in the Appalachian Mountains, who once lived in that mountain range, or have ancestors or relatives once living in the Appalachian Mountains. Additionally, ―as identities are always fragmented, multiply constructed, and constantly changing,‖ (McCarthey & Moje, 2002), I want to explore Appalachian cultural identity in a ‗displaced‘ space in a northern Midwestern community. For the purposes of this project, I will focus on culture as a facet of identity. As with any culture, Appalachian cultural identity resists overt classification and simplification. Cultural identity is the focus of this literature review as reflected in

the values, beliefs, and worldviews of migrant people. Those who belong to the same culture share a broadly similar conceptual map and way of interpreting language. People can identify themselves in many ways other than by their cultures (Sayyid, et al., 1998). Self is a composite of many things including race, class, education, region, religion, and gender. The influence of these aspects of identity is likely to change over time. Beyond this, the discursive approach of identity views identification as seen as an ongoing process that is never complete (Hall, 1996). I assert that identities do not exist before they are constructed (McCarthey, 2002). Most theorists agree that identity exists, not solely within an individual category of individuals, but through differences in relationships with others (Hall, 1994; West, 1999; Luke, et al., 1999). As a science educator with an Appalachian heritage, I am disturbed by the assumption that rural Appalachian children must abandon their rich culture, which often is demeaned as substandard and illegitimate, to achieve success measured by mainstream standards. For this reason, I attempted to better understand the culture by examining the ways Appalachian children talk about science. The task was not an easy one, for like other American cultural minority groups, Appalachians resist classification. Their culture is dynamic and in constant redefinition. Common threads in Appalachian culture, however, include fond identification with place, close ties with others, and history and values tied to region of origin. Additionally, rural Appalachians are connected to their land. Land is a source of pride and a means of self-identification for many Appalachians.

Appalachian Culture in Education

The literature on education in Appalachian is unfortunately not comprehensive as few studies of education in rural areas have been published. The research on Appalachian schooling in the decade following when President Lyndon Johnson declared ―War on Poverty‖ depicted the mountain children as culturally destitute, the parents as indifferent, and the schools as perpetuators of mainstream values from the dominant society to the detriment of the culture of the rural Appalachian folk (Mielke, 1976). According to one West Virginia resident (Ledford, 1999):

The war on poverty was the worst thing that ever happened to Appalachia. It gave people a way to get by without having to do any work. Local parents of school

children urge their children to try to go to special education classes at school as a way to prove they are eligible for [SSI] disability benefits (p. 51).

Some scholars (Batteau, 1990; Goad, 1997; Shapiro, 1986) dispute that Appalachia is neither a culture nor a subculture due to the racial makeup of primarily White Anglo-Saxon individuals. Keefe, Reck, and Reck (1983) reviewed the nature of ethnicity among Appalachians. Within a structural, cultural, and Appalachian life stories symbolic framework, Appalachia appears to have a distinct ethnicity but with many overlaps of ―ethnic group membership, socioeconomic class, and rural residence in the region‖ (p. 218.) Keefe et al. (1983) noted differences between Appalachians and mainstream America in terms of ―ties to their homeland (the mountains), familiasm, a unique history, a Southern Mountain dialect, fundamentalist religions, and various value orientations‖ (p. 203). The differences were chiefly apparent in terms of education, and the researchers credited the low levels of educational achievement to schools that promote social stratification and ―ignore mountain culture, imposing the dominant cultures‘ values‖ (p. 208). Moreover, local teachers who themselves were Appalachian, did not support or even identify their own or the children‘s Appalachian culture. Additionally, socially external factors included the often low socioeconomic status of the children, life patterns influenced by isolation and rurality, strong extended family ties and a powerful parental influence on the children. Additionally, internal Appalachian-identified factors also contributing to low achievement that included, the students‘ perceptions of discrimination, teacher impact on the children‘s learning, and institutionalized discriminate inherent in public schooling. In 1980, Rack compared rural Appalachian and urban non-Appalachian sixth-graders in a quantitative study on self-concept. She found that ―school-related notions of the self, either explicitly stated or implied, were the single most important area contributing to the negative self-concept of the rural Appalachian children‖ (p. 52). Exploring the essential factors relating to these findings, Reck and Reck (1980) discussed the reactions, alienation, and hostility of the parents and community to the school. ―Added to this feeling that education has been of questionable value is the feeling that school consolidation has placed undue hardships on rural residents‖ (p. 22). The identified 77

difficulties were often of a physical nature, often concerning transportation issues including extended twice-daily bus rides, and they were also attitudinal because the school children's parents were hesitant to communicate with the teachers who often treated them condescendingly. It was found that this apparent lack of communication was primarily due to lack of parental success through schools which was passed on to future generations; school negativity was a continual cyclical phenomenon with the children and their parents in a world where schools are ―external institutions which do not serve the real needs of rural Appalachian people‖ (p. 22). In a study of cultural resistance in Appalachian schools, Woodrum (2004) found, ―Poor Appalachian families frequently see in the loss of the local school‘s further evidence of their own social and economic dispossession‖ (p. 8).

Keefe, Reck, and Reck (1989) began a research project in a region of Appalachia in North Carolina that had a rapidly increasing recreation industry and an influx of wealthier non-Appalachians causing a clear financial discrepancy between the two groups. In an attempt to understand ethnicity in relation to lower academic achievement of the Appalachians, they devised a survey instrument for students at the consolidated high school reflecting the dimensions of ethnicity: structural, cultural, and symbolic. While initially the administrators of the high school approved of the survey and cooperated with the researchers, once distributed, the survey angered many members of the student body and also many of the teachers; many students refused to complete it or took it home to their families. ―‗I think you are making all of us look like hillbillies‘ ‖ (p. 30) wrote a student, while others wrote that they were not prejudiced like the researchers. The controversy immediately became a frenzied media event as the issue appeared in the newspaper and on multiple radio channels. The researchers tried to make amends but, it was too late as they had offended the entire district. They repeatedly apologized by writing a letter to all the high school students and they even eagerly volunteered to relinquish all of their data and give it all to the school administrators. Furthermore, the researchers agreed to conduct staff development, but once again, all of those community members involved vehemently declined the offer. The researchers concluded that there existed a dichotomy with educators who denied the mountain culture of the students, yet

blamed it for their academic failures. The data from the surveys and unexpected aftermath led to further conclusions: As a result, native Appalachian students on the whole have low self-esteem, become ambivalent about their cultural heritage, experience an inadequate education, and often blame themselves individually for their lack of educational success rather than conclude that Appalachians as a group are treated unequally. (p. 34)

These researchers did continue this line of research. Reck, Reck, and Keefe (1993) continued their studies of ―ethnicity, socioeconomic class, and rural/urban residence as factors affecting the school experience of Appalachian students‖ (p. 117) by interviewing teachers in the same Appalachian county to determine if the teachers made distinctions between Appalachian students whose families had lived in the mountains for at least three generations and non-Appalachian students, born outside of the region, whose families had moved there to work in primarily professional careers. Their findings showed that both the teachers of Appalachian descent and non-Appalachian teachers viewed the Appalachian students as rural or ―rednecks‖ with descriptions matching the stereotypes. As one non-Appalachian teacher stated, ―They are the county students who are in the lower tracks. They chew tobacco, have long greasy hair, are not clean and smell, use bad grammar and profanity, and their dress is not acceptable‖ (p. 119). The non-Appalachian students, called the ―town kids,‖ were most often complimented by teachers. ―Town kids have more social skills, are more confident, are more involved in school activities, and do better academically‖ (p. 120). While the researchers determined the Appalachian ethnicity to be primarily symbolic and structural, with cultural distinctions such as identity and family/social relationships, ―most of the differences were found to be socio-economic-status-linked‖ (p. 120). Yet the teachers attributed these differences primarily to Appalachian ethnicity. As a result, ―In this case teachers‘ perceptions both reflect and reinforce the system of dominance hierarchy which shapes the inequitable educational experience in Appalachia‖ (p. 121). DeYoung (2002) studied Appalachian schools in one West Virginia county with a different framework, de-emphasizing ethnicity and viewing the schools‘ problems as relating to their isolated, rural nature. ―My fieldwork also underscores the efforts of local educators to compel students to use their education as a cultural bridge from central West

Virginia to the national culture‖ (p. 172). Teachers and principals viewed themselves in a compensatory education role to offset the poverty and disadvantage of the students; efforts ranged from collecting winter clothes to taking students on field trips to movies, shopping malls, and fast food restaurants. Few parents were active in the academics of the school, but sports booster organizations were well attended. The schools were held accountable for student achievement, but few cultural activities were provided. Although the school system was the largest employer in the county, it did not seem to house the investment and partiality that were noted in the surrounding counties. Students often did not see the value of a formalized school education when ―physical work remains more often understood as real work, while book learning and academic pursuits are less frequently valued as suitable for able-bodied boys‖ (p.177). The land or ―rural space‖ dominated the educational curricula as the school calendar allowed for seasonal events to dominate what happened in the schools. Male students‘ interest in firearms, all-terrain vehicles, and pickup trucks were somewhat encouraged by this school calendar; no classes were held during the first week of hunting season. The district closed during the county fair in late September. While DeYoung did not cite the recreational activities of girls, a sense of place was strong for both genders: Youngsters are not sure under what circumstances they want to leave and how far they may be willing to go. Many prefer to live close to the place of their birth and to their Appalachian families, and they allegedly would prefer to live on some sort of government assistance instead of looking for work that is uncertain. (p.177)

Schools in this county were under considerable pressure to meet state accountably standards in spite of the poverty and cultural obstacles. Therefore the school teachers and administrators saw themselves as preparing students to be successful in life outside of the region (DeYoung).

American Rural Schooling: An Overview

The Demography of Rural Schools During most of the 20th Century, influential economic and social changes took place in rural America. As the economy changed, agriculture was no longer a major source of employment and income. As a result, rural areas experienced an out-migration and the number of students attending rural schools decreased (DeYoung, 1994). Small,

rural districts continue to decline in enrollment. Between 1993-94 and 2000-01 the number of regular public school districts in the nation decreased by 700, and 415 of these were in small, rural districts (Haller & Monk, 2001). According to the National Center for Education Statistics (2001), in 2000-2001 about 8,000 of the 84,000 public schools in the United States were located in small, rural districts. In spite of the declining numbers, these small, rural districts continue to constitute a large portion of the public elementary and secondary sector of education. According to the U. S. Department of Education (2000), in 1999 half of the 15,000 regular public school districts in America were rural. The majority of these schools were small, averaging fewer than 100 students per high school grade and 25 students per elementary grade. One fourth of the districts in the nation were small and rural, and in the mid west, south central, and west, the proportion was more than one third (U. S. Department of Education). Previous researchers (Herzog & Pittman, 1999; Phelps & Prock, 1991; Stern, 1994) demonstrated that students in rural areas were not as well off financially as their urban counterparts and were geographically, economically, and culturally isolated. Also, their parents often had lower educational levels and lower educational expectations for their children. While most of the population of the United States lives in urban settings, millions of citizens live in vast rural areas (U. S. Census Bureau, 2001). This diversity has important implications for public schooling. School districts must serve a sufficiently large population in order to generate revenue to purchase materials and resources, hire teachers, and build and maintain facilities. However, when the population is widely dispersed, districts often face problems with keeping the community involved, transporting students great distances, and maintaining small economically efficient schools (Brown & Swanson, 2004).

Financial Challenges Facing Rural Schools Rural school districts typically serve poorer populations with greater needs. Since these rural communities generally have lower property values, the tax base is commonly smaller. Less revenue exists for educational funding (Rural School and Community Trust, 2000). These small, rural districts have been continually encouraged to consolidate as a response to the funding limitations and inadequate educational services. Throughout the 21st century, school and district consolidations have often been the only option

available when trying to achieve cost savings and improve education in rural districts (Stephens, 1998). Rural communities rely on their schools to serve many functions beyond the primary mission of educating children. Rural school systems provide employment for adult community members and are crucial in the social, cultural, and recreational activities found in communities.

More Challenges Facing Rural Schools Schools in rural areas and small towns face many challenges in serving the needs of children and in providing for their education. Historically, rural schools have developed several unique methods for educating and serving youth (DeYoung, 1992). Several of these successful educational reform strategies are in widespread use today. According to the National Education Association (1998), such innovative strategies as peer assistance and tutoring, mentoring, multi-grade classrooms, multiage classrooms, block scheduling, site-based management, and cooperative learning were developed in rural schools. This success in rural education is associated with what makes rural and small town America unique. The smallness or small enrollment of these areas contributed to the close relationships found in many schools among educators, students, parents, and the community at large (Lee & McIntire, 1999).

Characteristics of Rural Schools: Demographics

According to data generated by the National Education Association (1998), there are common characteristics found in most rural schools in America. A rural area is defined as having fewer than 2,500 people, and the geographic landscape is defined as rural. There are approximately 84,000 public schools nationwide and 49% of these are located in rural areas. There are approximately 43 million students in schools nationwide and 38% live in rural areas. There are 39,644 public schools operating in these rural areas with the majority (67%) being elementary schools. Rural schools normally have a lower student-teacher ratio than urban schools and often offer greater remedial programs for learning-disabled students. There are some negatives to these rural schools, such as their probability to not offer preschool or prekindergarten programs and a variety of enrichment activities. Rural schools also offer fewer job-placement services and have limited curricula (Rural School and Community Trust, 2002). Rural schools are likely to

be Title I or Chapter I schools indicating low socioeconomic status (Rural School and Community Trust). Lee and McIntire (1999) reported that of the nation‘s 2.56 million public school teachers, 41% taught in rural areas. Schools in these areas, unlike urban schools, were more likely to have a male principal. Haller, Monk & Tien (1998) stated that rural schoolteachers spent much less time on extracurricular activities than did urban schoolteachers. Haller and Monk also noted that rural teachers were paid less and had fewer benefits such as paid health and dental insurance. According to Beeson and Strange (2000), three out of ten rural schools have inadequate buildings and less internet accessibility and rural students travel much further to get to their school buildings than urban students do. While almost half (40%) of the nation‘s public schools are located in rural areas, only 22% of the total budget goes to rural schools, causing some of the aforementioned facility problems (Beeson & Strange). With these challenges, rural schools do take advantage of opportunities that they do have. If rural schools are rich in anything, that richness often involves outdoor space. This wealth of openness has been true in other countries as well. Internationally, in rural science education, these opportunities often involve the use of after school science clubs and the incorporation of informal teaching and learning opportunities.

Taking Things Inside Out: Learning and Teaching in the Out-of-Doors How does the impact of environmental and ecological education affect children's discourse, and specifically, as is the focus of this study, how is this particular discourse informed by rural Appalachian culture? While environmental education has been my lifelong passion, for this study, I specifically focused on ecological education. Like Hautecouer (2000), I do not privilege ecological education over environmental education. To me, they are inevitably linked. Ecological education involves a deeper awareness of ecological phenomenon with the added outcome of monitoring, and if need be, changing the environment to protect these ecological relationships. In our view, ecological education is not a specialized discipline within the field of educational sciences that also studies the environment. On the contrary, it is a lifelong practice of social learning and knowledge acquisition that is carried out in all spheres of life. In other words: a community education (in French, éducation populaire, and in Spanish, educación popular), with the addition of ‗ecological,‘ which locates these learning practices in the space of our lives, in the current

ideological context of globalization, and in a dramatic perception of the future (Hautecoeur, 2000, p. 3).

This research uses the term conscientization, or ―critical consciousness‖ borrowed from Paulo Freire, to inform my enthusiasm for working with rural Appalachian children. Above all, following Hautecoeur‘s guidelines (2000), I am guided by three features of éducation populaire. I have maintained a bond with the everyday existence and world of ordinary people, ―a bond that is rooted in a profound consciousness of our common humanity and sensitivity to the dignity of humankind, in what we might call a feeling of solidarity‖ (Hautecoeur, 2000, p. 4). Secondly, I pursued éducation populaire‘s vision to bring awareness and appreciation of place and the local to the children with whom I have learned. Whereas the dominant function of education consists of adapting to the mainstream, this tradition of knowledge starts from a subtle disobedience to the conventional, or at least the recognition of plurality. The principle mandate of public schools is the nationalization of schooling in my opinion. Chiefly, in its effects of rendering daily life to the mode of destruction (of the environment, our health, our cultural heritage, etc.), I recommend that children need to become aware of their natural world so they will appreciate its diversity and abundance. Against this new way of living, I suggest children need to embrace ways of living that value the renewal of our planet‘s resources, the preservation of biological and cultural diversity, and human growth. The third legacy of localized community education, place-based education, consists of its practical objectives, that is, improving local living conditions through various formulas of social awareness. Basic education must be exercised through local initiatives that call on real needs, available resources, and liberated imagination―or bricolage. Above all, basic education carries a use value and a useful function that will have legitimacy in the margins of the dominant community culture. Like Bowers, (1993, 1997), I see the value in exploring how cultural diversity and our impending ecological crisis will dominate the educational and political scene over the next several decades. While on one level the two phenomena may appear to be separate and distinct, and thus requiring different responses, they are in fact quite related. Agreeing with Bowers (1993), for quite different reasons, both signal that the assumptions underlying modern culture are no longer sustainable. The continued myth of

personal success "that prompted generations of people to turn their backs on the web of relationships and patterns that constituted their ethnic heritage by entering the competitive and highly individualistic mainstream culture is now becoming increasingly illusory‖ (Bowers, p. 163). Although specifically referring to Native American indigenous cultures, the following argument can be directly applied to that of the Appalachian culture. Many of the cultural groups who have not abandoned their traditions in order to attain the autonomous individuality celebrated by mainstream culture (and preyed upon by commercial interests) continue to sustain practices, values, and forms of knowledge that are more ecologically viable. The valuing of extended family relationships (including the sense of interdependence), ceremonies that provide members and expanded sense of meaning and identity, and the oral traditions that serve to strengthen the community of memory and frank commitments to unborn generations―all these seem essential to live more interdependent lives and stand as ecologically sound alternatives to substitute forms of gratification to characterize a consumption-addicted society (Bowers, 1997).

Citizen Science as Ecological Education While formal science educators contend with the globalization of school reform, nonformal science educators are taking a seemingly opposite approach and encouraging children to get involved in grassroots organizations that espouse environmental change at the local level. This form of ‗citizen science‘ is evident in a growing number of nonformal educational settings, including after school programs, weekend experiences at parks and nature preserves, and activities of organizations such as the Boy Scouts of America and 4-H Clubs. Admittedly, the term citizen science is conceptually broad in its scope, as there are numerous ways that people can involve themselves in the sciences. For this project, I use two definitions to help frame meanings related to citizen science. I value Irwin's (1995) definition, as it focuses on ―the linkages between community members and specific environmental issues‖ (p. 32). Jenkins‘s (1999) definition stresses the reflexive nature of doing citizen science as a process involving multiple voices. It also focuses on using situations that citizens encounter every day. Citizen science, to him, is ―a form of science that relates in reflexive ways to the concerns, interests, and activities

of citizens as they go about their everyday business‖ (p.704). Such linkages are largely absent in formal school settings. Providing children with science opportunities that have immediate and direct community involvement is far superior to simply doing science to master state and national assessment objectives. Simply stated, whenever people—children and adults— educate themselves about science, good things happen. When formally educated scientists begin conversations with citizens about local issues, better things happen. When traditionally disenfranchised members of society interact with science professionals, educate themselves about a personally relevant area of science, and formulate solutions to related issues, best things happen. If this ‗best things‘ scenario can occur within existing school settings, lasting change can occur for all involved. The current model of citizen science, which emphasizes citizens as data collectors and scientists as decision-makers, has documented success in the areas of monitoring and correcting environmental issues. However, I assert that simply doing science in this manner is not enough for citizen science to be recognized for legitimate contributions to science and formal schooling. Indeed, as citizen science matures, the existing model must be reconsidered and possibly expanded. Specifically, I suggest examining who does citizen science and how they do it as a means to create a model of successful learning. Central to this model is a focus on the children as data collectors and decision-makers— knowledge producers as opposed to consumers of knowledge—by doing the science in local contexts through place-based initiatives (Sobel, 2004). How can citizen science as ecological education occur in a formal school‘s timeframe? Ecological education has taken many different forms and includes a variety teaching strategies. At the elementary school level, ecological or environmental education is often limited to a weeklong unit around Earth Day. However, the outdoors is often an effective setting to teach students about environmental issues. Schools can influence behavior, change attitudes, and help students learn about issues that will enhance their abilities to make decisions. Learning experiences in the outdoors which are designed to develop greater insight into ecological relationships and the need for maintaining the quality of the environment should be an important part of any school curriculum at any age level. Researchers have found that students can effectively learn about ecological and

science issues in outdoor settings at least as effectively as in the classroom (Bogner, 1998; Ewert, 1996; Fien, 2004; Fing, 1994; Kruse & Card, 2004; Kuhlemeier, Van Den Bergh, & Lagerwej; Bowen & Roth, 2007). Much of the research on outdoor education has traditionally focused on field trips to parks or nature preserves and on outdoor experiences and residential centers (Ewert, Place & Sibthorp, 2005; Falk, 1997; Friedman, 1995; Schauble, Beane, Coates, Martin, & Sterling, 1996; Roth & Brown, 1996). Field trips to parks or nature preserves can expose students to unique outdoor settings, but some documented problems associated with field trips include the often lack of adequate funding, liability concerns, transportation costs and logistics such as time constraints and distance (Ham & Sewing, 1987). There is also the problem with relying on field trips to give students a full, meaningful exposure to environmental issues. The isolated experiences of field trips prevent long-term observations such as seasonal or weather-related changes or interactions. Students cannot manipulate variables or observe the effects of changes over the course of time. Research on student learning in unique outdoor settings, such as field trips, has shown that students learn less than in more familiar outdoor settings (Biggs & Tap, 1986; Orion & Hofstein, 1994). Continuous, repeated activities with recognizable natural surroundings can have a longer effect on student learning than occasional experiences in novel natural areas. According to Shepard and Speelman (1986), saturation in a natural experience has many benefits as compared to ―hit and miss‖ visitations. ―Program length does appear to have an effect on developing positive environmental attitudes‖ (p. 22). Harvey (1990) proposed the use of school grounds as a solution to the problems associated with field trips. She promoted using the school grounds because "they can be continuous, qualitative, and of long duration‖ (p. 10). Cronin-Jones (2000) examined the effectiveness of using the schoolyard to teach students about ecological concepts and to develop more positive attitudes towards natural settings and their inhabitants. She found the elementary students learn more through outdoor school your experiences than through traditional classroom experiences. In a review of environmental education program research, Crompton and Sellar (1981) concluded that one of the most important variables in environmental education program‘s success may be the length of exposure to natural

environments, while Bixler, Floyd, and Hammitt (2002) suggested that repeated positive exposure to outdoor areas can eventually lowered the novelty of such areas and build a sense of environmental competence. Over the past several years, a number of authors have suggested that science education could benefit from insights gained from the ecological sciences. Bowen and Roth (2007) acknowledged that the ecological sciences are conducted in much different ways than traditional laboratory science. These researchers made the transition from these ecological sciences to the teaching of middle and high school science during one study. They also noted that, unlike traditional laboratory sciences, "The supervisory structure that exists in laboratory-based research is not present in the same way in ecology research.‖ (p.173). In laboratory-based research, there are often various "old-timers (in this sense, used to describe any individual with more experience ranging from doctoral students to professors) supervising the everyday work of others in the laboratory. In field ecology research there are often few old-timers present when the researcher is conducting research, other than other graduate students who themselves are at various levels of experience and who may be conducting their first independent research project. Finally, these researchers noted that, unlike laboratory sciences, the field of field ecology is often dominated by women. These researchers worked side-by-side four field ecologist graduate students for multiple seasons. They collected ethnographic qualitative data while these young women collected scientific data on lizards, snakes, frogs, and birds in the Koottenay Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. Using interviews, video and audio recordings, and field notes, the field researchers learned firsthand as they collected data on the graduate students. After analyzing their multi-season data, Bowen and Roth found three things to be true: 1.) Based on their observations of the field ecologists, scientific data collection involved ongoing and localized challenges in the field and it was often complicated by unexpected and unpredictable conditions in which researchers might find themselves. As such, ecologists had to be flexible and "think on their feet." 2.) Ecological studies are not always applicable to other laboratory sciences. The researchers noted that science is often presented as only being able to draw claims from studies that are replicable. Such is not always possible in ecology research for several reasons, they added. First, local

environmental conditions, while being possibly similar from season to season, are never the precisely the same from season to season. Studies conducted later in following seasons may yield different results. Secondly, studies of ecology often involve data collected from individual organisms and as a result, variation in the population might result in differences. Finally, as ecological studies are emergent, this emergence also undermines the concept of application. Much like qualitative research, ecological research can deal with specific and local issues or subjects. 3.) Interactions of ecology research created a sense of community. Relying on anecdotal narratives to convey meaning, ecology researchers spend much time communicating while both in the field, and in the laboratory. For ecologists "anecdotes are important observations, insights, or experiences they have had that do not fit the structure of scientific writings‖ (p.175). These researchers suggested that "these anecdotes are important enough to warrant communication to other ecologists‖ (p. 176). Field ecologists also constitute the community and establish who is a member in the community through sharing common experiences and interconnecting stories about diverse field observations that complement each other. These researchers suggested that the type of "shoptalk" found in laboratory settings (Lynch, 1985)—the discussion of work practices and interpretations as it is occurring—happens much less often in ecology because ecologists spend a substantial amount of time working in settings far away from their home university and other ecologists‖ (p. 176). As a result, the social interactions between ecologists in informal settings are an important component of successfully doing fieldwork—in many ways as important as the formal writings of the discipline. Bowen and Roth concluded their research by making implications for science classrooms spaces. These researchers repeatedly acknowledged that ecological science varies differently from traditional laboratory science. Specifically, they focused on the gender differential between male-dominated laboratories and female-dominated field research in ecology. They suggested, like Kahn & Heller (2002), that female students may be more interested in field ecology studies because of the connections they make with animals. ―Female students may be more interested in the science as female members [of this ecological community] often exhibit a "feeling for the organism" (in other words, a close connection to the animals as they sense that they are the organism, or at least can

relate to it with considerable empathy) that provides a considerable foundation for understanding more abstract representations of animals and ecosystems‖ (Bowen and Roth, 2007, p. 176). By including and acknowledging ecological sciences in classrooms, these researchers also suggested that teachers can benefit by allowing their students to see multiple methods of science which debunk the classic cookie-cutter "Scientific Method" which is presented as fact in most elementary science classes. Field ecologists often are placed in settings, or spaces, in which they have little or no embodied knowledge. The researchers added that the knowledge resources found in laboratory settings, including experienced researchers, detailed written resources, and considerable equipment, was often absent in field ecology research sites and communication is much more challenging at this research sites than in formal science laboratories. The remote research settings where the field ecologists conduct their work explain, in part, how they interact socially and to what extent they interact. They need to rely on the knowledge of their peers and local persons as a resource for conducting their work, these researchers added. It is not too much of a leap to consider so-called off-topic conversations as the result of a lack of diversity of experiences. Asking all students to work on the same project removes the opportunity for them to develop a social community around their scientific practices and investigations such as that found amongst ecologists; it also interferes with a sense of ownership students can develop for their project, over the means of their scientific production, the rules of conduct involved, and so on. Once students are in a position to make such choices, higher rate of hereto for underrepresented populations including female and aboriginal students actively engage in science‖ (p. 184).

Finally, Bowen and Roth acknowledged that when field ecologists are placed in new surroundings, like a family, they learn to adapt, communicate more effectively, and as a result when younger learners are given such an opportunity, "students are capable of developing complex rhetorical practices and problem generating and solving practices― demonstrating the generation of scientific knowledge quite different from the authoritative nature of science portrayed by teachers or in textbooks" (p. 185). These researchers concluded this study by calling on other educational researchers to follow in similar footsteps. Research needs to be designed that allows an ongoing adaptation of the curriculum―to allow further descriptions of the affordances and constraints to learning and equitable participation in science as it actually is practiced. Although

the actual practices of ecology research are often akin to practices that can be enacted in the classroom, more studies need to be done to validate the outcomes of learning environments in which students conduct research in the manner described here (p. 186).

Such studies should focus on the following research questions: 1. How does participating in authentic ecology research support/constrain science learning by middle and high school students? 2. What are the preferred ways in which different [e.g., gender, cultural origin] students present their research results in ecology research? 3. How do the patterns of participation for female students change when the learning environment fosters a "feeling for the organism" and holistic understandings of natural settings? I adopt Bowen and Roth's charge in this study by using water quality monitoring as an ecological education theme.

Stream Water Quality Monitoring Water is necessary to every living organism on Earth. Unfortunately, much energy and cost goes into either ensuring surface waters do not become polluted or that the these waters become clean after pollution. Water pollutants can be divided into eight main types. These pollutant types include: organic wastes, disease-causing wastes, plant nutrients, toxic substances, persistent substances, sediments, radioactive substances, and heat (Kaufman & Franz, 2005). Attaining clean water is an ongoing issue and as populations increase, so does water pollution. Simply put, clean water is continually in demand in the United States. Despite the passage of the 1974 Clean Water Act, whose purpose partly was to restore and maintain the chemical, physical and biological integrity of the nation‘s surface waters to make them ―fishable and swimmable‖, vast challenges still exist. According to the United States Environmental Protection Agency (2000), almost 40% of the freshwater ecosystems in the United States are still not fit for human recreation, and less than 2% of the 3.6 million stream miles are healthy enough to be considered high quality. The United States Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in its report, The Quality of our Nation’s Waters: 1998 Report to Congress assessed the quality of 23 percent of the 3,662,255 miles of rivers and streams in the United States.

Agriculture was the most widespread source of pollution in these rivers and streams. Agricultural activities may introduce silt, nutrients, pesticides, and organic matter that deplete oxygen in surface water. Other leading sources of pollution in these rivers include such modifications as flow regulation and flow modification, channelization, dredging, and the construction of dams (which may alter a river‘s habitat in such a way that it becomes less suitable for aquatic life), and urban area runoff and storm sewer discharges (United States EPA, 2000).

Stream monitoring documents how environmental changes affect fish and other aquatic organisms. The datum also improves the understanding of how human actions affect ecosystem health. Monitoring all streams is beyond the capabilities of scientists due to the vast length of the streams involved, so volunteers have increasingly stepped forward to assist in the monitoring task. Environmental protection agencies have relied upon such voluntary assistance. Faced with increasingly complex tasks, personnel shortages, heightened public involvement and awareness, and often reduced budgets, water protection agencies have turned to volunteers as a way of carrying out the complex array of water quality monitoring activities involved in caring for streams. Volunteer water quality monitoring has multiple benefits that have included building awareness of pollution problems, creating public citizen advocates, providing opportunities for effective outreach, providing an educational tool to teach children about ecology and land use, providing data for waters that are not currently being monitored by either state or federal agencies, and increasing the amount of water quality information available to decision makers. The data volunteers collect have been used for problem identification, in assisting state agencies in locating potential pollution sources, and in enhancing studies of impaired streams to determine the source of impairment.

Three Stream Water Quality Assessments Streams can be monitored with many types of assessments. These assessments range from taking chemical samples of the water to observing the fish that inhabit the various parts of a stream. Soon after the passage of the Clean Water Act, water chemistry testing was the main source of monitoring performed by scientists (United States Environmental Protection Agency, June 2000). While chemical analyses of the water can

immediately determine levels of possible contaminants including excess nitrogen, ammonia, and phosphates, chemical testing has its drawbacks. The chemicals can be expensive, they must be safely monitored, and the water sample may not represent the water quality at any other place or time in the stream. Chemical testing is not an appropriate assessment for community citizens to conduct as sampling results can wildly fluctuate. Scientists were in need of an assessment that citizens could conduct. In the 1980s, changes were undertaken to involve more people in monitoring surface waters (United States Environmental Protection Agency, 2001). Rapid bioassessment protocols were developed to allow citizens in the sampling and monitoring of freshwater organisms. It was determined that a stream‘s health could be determined by the presence of indicator species. Certain animal species could tolerate pollution more than others. An effective and inexpensive bioassessment protocol involves the collection of benthic or bottom-dwelling macroinvertebrates; animals that lack a backbone that can be seen without magnification. This method is effective, enjoyable, and can be conducted by children and adults. The data collector often counts the types of species found and compares them to a chart of other macroinvertebrates that have the same tolerance or intolerance to pollution. For example, animals that are intolerant of pollution are all grouped together as Class I macroinvertebrates; examples include Mayfly Nymphs, Water Pennies, and Fresh Water Clams. Examples of partially tolerant organisms —Class II macroinvertebrates—include Gilled Snails, Planaria, and Crayfish. Some of the organisms that can tolerate the most pollution, in Class III, are Tubiflex Worms, Midge Larvae, and Rat-Tailed Maggots. The macroinvertebrate index is used as a way of quantifying the presence of indicator species in the stream. Increasingly, stream scientists developed another effective way to determine stream health. This way was to conduct a habitat assessment of the morphological features of the stream. Geomorphology deals with the forms of natural water bodies such as rivers, lakes, estuaries, lagoons, coastal zones and seas, as well as with the processes that create and modify these forms. These processes are the erosion, transport and deposition of sediment (cobbles, gravel, sand, silt, clay). In its operational meaning, morphology includes not only stream movement and bed topography but also bed sediment composition. The assessment focuses on determining and quantifying the

various components that contribute to a healthy habitat. Some of these components include: measuring the depth of the riparian vegetation zone, or the plant communities that border the stream‘s edge, measuring the stream bank stability, determining the degree of channel alteration, and examining stream deposition. As with the macroinvertebrate assessment, this tool is an index. A number is ultimately assigned to the stream by the citizens monitoring the stream. The children in this study used a modified version of this index created by two local teachers. The teachers named it, ―Crabby‘s Shack‖ as it used a story of a crab looking for the best possible home and habitat. Some of the habitat characteristics these teachers include in this index are stream sinuosity, or how windy the stream is; riparian buffer zone, or the depth of plant life on either bank of the stream; and substrate and cobble size. As a rule, a stream that is sinuous, has a sizeable riparian buffer zone, and has various sizes of substrate is an ideal home for benthic (bottom-dwelling) macroinvertabrates. These assessment protocols have more and more been introduced to groups of both children and adults. By involving children in the process of conducting these assessments, they can have a realistic sense of how scientists interact with the world outside of traditional laboratories of science. They can also call upon children who spend time or live in streams. The obvious benefits of inviting citizens into stream monitoring are many and begin to address many of the challenges previously listed, but by listening to the process of such stream monitoring opportunities, educators and those interested in education can begin to connect the students‘ awareness of space and the way they explore those spaces while beginning to understand ecological problems. In this next section, I examine issues or rural identity as I explore how rurality, and in this case, Appalachian rurality, shapes student discourse.

Rural Geography: Place and Space From a sociological perspective, much analysis has focused on ―reasserting space‖ into discussions about rural identity. It is increasingly clear that not only is knowledge interconnected to power (Foucault, 1980; Giddens, 1984), but that knowledge, power, and space/place also closely mesh to frame existing social practices, realities, and identities. As Foucault (1984) stated, ―Space is fundamental in any form of communal

life; space is fundamental in any exercise of power‖ (p.235). Foucault asserts that spaces are often used to exert power over individuals, as in teachers exerting power over children in classrooms. A whole history remains to be written of spaces—which would at the same time be the history of powers (both these terms in the plural)—from the great strategies of geo-politics to the little tactics of the habitat, institutional architecture from the classroom to the design of hospitals, passing via economic and political installations... Anchorage in space is an economico-political form which needs to be studied in detail" (1980, p. 149).

Space then is relevant only inasmuch as it reflects a particular technology of power. Teachers, for instance, are specialists of space. They are the often the first formal managers of educational collective space for children, by analyzing local conditions (children‘s academic performance, behavior, emotions, etc.), co-existences (―managing‖ groups of children), diagnosing deviances (identifying children with special needs often by isolating them in different classrooms) and treating them (like doctors, by prescribing individualized educational goals often in the forms of rubrics, charts, and graphs in the classroom for all to see. Soja (1989) continued this analysis by suggesting that the structures of meaning, which are implicated in the production and use of power, are themselves implicated and produced in specific places: ―‗Place‘ often begins as a physical construct while ‗space‘ is a product of social translation, transformation, and experience of that place‖ (p.79). To understand a construct such as science education, we have to map a geography of it as a set of social practices, a human geography in which power is created, enacted, and altered. Again, the concept of identity formation also must be addressed in any discussion of children's discourse and space. Poststructuralists, including Foucault and Soja, assert identity and location are inseparable. Keith & Pile (1993) expound further by suggesting that place and politics overwhelmingly are connected. Similarly, Moje (2004) asserts that ―spaces exist in both hierarchical and dialogical relations with other spaces‖ (p. 20). For my study, it is helpful to employ Moje‘s idea of using concentric imaginary circles to represent how these relational spaces inform the children's discourse as they enact science. Also helpful is Moje‘s view of community space: ―The community space…is both a geographic and social (ethnic) space‖ (p. 20). This view is crucial to my study, as

the students observed will be engaged in discourse beyond the school‘s physically and socially constructed boundaries.

Rurality, I contend, shapes identities; as with rurality comes land, landscapes, or open spaces. Human beings, including children, always engage with the landscape not only by altering it physically but also by the ways in which they locate themselves with it. Cosgrove (1984) argues, ―landscape represents an historically specific way of experiencing the world developed by, careful to, certain social groups‖ (1984, p. 15). Continuing with that thought, Cosgrove asserts that the landscape does not just represent power relations in society, it is, itself, an instrument of cultural power. Landscape is an ideological concept by which people see themselves and their world through their imagined relationship with the land and nature. Peet (1996) argues that landscapes frame the social imaginary. These meanings that landscapes take over time are called to define how people think about a place, how they behave it and how they expect others to behave. Like text, (Derrida, 1976) landscapes can be read and interpreted in many different ways and be given many different meanings. But not all meanings are equal. As Mitchell proposes (2000), some meanings are more encouraged than others because they are shaped by dominant discourses. Thus, the dominant meanings that are given to the landscape are reproduced and contested through everyday discourse and practice. The farm, for example, becomes a place of gendered discursive formations.

Conclusion

I chose this research literature to help enclose the seemingly disparate fields that comprise this study. By stitching together these fields of research and as the children sort out their schooling experience in science classes, questions begin to emerge which will refine this study even more. I list only a few of the guiding questions which directly relate to my five overall research questions. What happens to discourse, sense-making, and power relationships when children and their teachers collectively move into new spaces? How does a rural Appalachian culture of the children and some of the teachers inform these new interactions? How does gender contribute to this discourse? How similar or different is that individual or collective discourse inside traditional schooling

spaces as compared to outside ecological spaces? How does nature inform such discourses? With these and even more emerging questions guiding this study, I attempted to begin finding answers as I negotiated my new role of research out into the field at Country Dale Middle School.

Chapter 3: Methodology

Introduction Overview The purpose of the following chapter is to detail the methods and procedures I used in this study. I begin with a brief description of how this research makes use of and is situated within the qualitative research paradigm. This is followed by a detailed description of data collection procedures and the methods employed to analyze these data.

The Project

This project examines the discourse of Appalachian adolescent children during a five month period as I study how spaces—inside classrooms and outside in the field— influence the children‘s discourse. The children‘s culture is also investigated as a contributor to spoken and written language as I use a theoretical perspective based on sociocultural constructivism. While I include data from the duration of the study, I focus on a stream monitoring unit conducted during the last month of the observation. I specifically compare the children‘s inside discourse to their outside discourse during the stream unit. I use ethnography informed by Charmaz‘s (2006) constructivist grounded theory to collect and analyze the data. The methods I used to gather qualitative data representing the discourse included (a) writing my observations and reflections in a teacher-researcher reflexive journal; (b) making rough field notes while in the classroom and in the field (school grounds, community streams, etc.); (c) audio- recording of science related activities; (d) transcribing recordings of science and non-science discourse; (e) developing elaborated sets of field notes based upon my transcriptions, my field observations, and the nonfiction texts; (f) photographs—both current and artifactual—of the children interacting with streams; and (g) student writing in the form of field notes, journal entries, or projects. I make use of these methods of data collection because of the sociocultural nature of my research questions and my perspective as a teacher and researcher.

In this third chapter, like slicing through layers of an onion, I cut into the theoretical perspective as I illustrate each layer of theory. I begin with the skin—in this project, the broad paradigm of interpretivist research. I then cut into the inner layer of constructivist grounded theory. I first discuss the relationship of the theoretical perspective to the research questions addressed in the study. Within the interpretive framework, I briefly describe ethnography. Grounded theory is described as the next layer of theory. Finally, I detail constructivist grounded theory as the basis of the project‘s theoretical perspective.

Next, I explain the sociocultural context in which I investigated these questions. I briefly depict the community and institutional setting as well as the participants, but following ethnography, I introduce the participants through in-depth narrative in Chapter 4, The Ethnography. Finally, I explain the research design. I then delineate the particular instruments and procedures of data collection and analysis. Due to the recursive nature of data collection and analysis in interpretative studies, the discussion of the research design will integrate strategies and purposes for gathering and analyzing data (Charmaz, 2006). Further, this discussion of the research design will be structured according to the five questions addressed by this study. Guiding questions that focus my study by viewing cultural differences within children help me place my research within the interpretive tradition and create new questions along the research journey. These questions include:

1. How do particular spaces affect children‘s discourse during a problem-based curricular unit? How do outside spaces, in particular, inform this discourse?

2. How does the Appalachian cultural identity of these children inform this discourse?

3. How does the type of science inquiry influence this discourse? Specifically, how do children talk during ―citizen science‖ monitoring versus inquiry-based science?

4. How does the curriculum and pedagogy influence students‘ discourse about science?

5. What assumptions do I have as a teacher/researcher as I approach the study?

Interpretive Inquiry This study is an ethnography using constructivist grounded theory methodologies embedded in what Erickson (1984) described as the interpretive inquiry tradition. Making environmental actions visible in that context demands flexibility and according to Erickson (1984, p. 121) ―using interpretive methods while acting as a participant/observer (teacher/researcher) are most appropriate‖ when one needs to know more about: • What is happening in the social setting, specifically? • What do the actions mean to the actors involved in them? • How are the events organized in patterns of everyday life? More specifically, this study focuses on the paradigm position of social constructivism within the interpretive framework.

Why Ethnography? Ethnography is a form of research focusing on the sociology of meaning as determined by close field observation of sociocultural phenomena (Glesne, 1999). The ethnographer focuses on a community, selecting informants who are representative of the activities of the community. The task of discovering specific ways in which children are constructing particular problem solving processes was bound up in meaning-making for both the students, the teachers, and me, the participant observer. Therefore, I chose the interpretive approach that Erickson (1986) suggests could help me best as I documented the children‘s discourse. I made sense of their actions; I constructed meaning around the children‘s ideas as they emerged; I shared meanings through ―face to face interactions‖; and I created meaning about the actions under reflection. Since the actions and interactions of teacher and children change over time, the methods I chose to employ to interpret those interactions may be ―reconstructed in response to changes in the researcher‘s perceptions, understanding of events, and their organization during the time spent‖ in the classroom, according to Erickson (1986). Qualitative research investigates human action and seeks to understand its patterns (Erickson, 1984). I reason that a more minute examination of the fifth grade learning spaces and a description of them would place interested others ―inside‖ a ―life

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world‖ as it was created. This study fits well within that description. It is clear to me that the larger context of taking an ethnographic approach coupled with twenty years of teaching experience with children of diverse cultures was an ideal beginning for this project. At the same time, I used methods drawn from ethnography coupled with grounded theory methodologies. Like other ethnographers, the rest of my research depended upon my data, my interaction with it, and my interpretation of it.

Grounded Theory Grounded theory differs from other methodologies in a number of ways (Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Glaser, 1978, Charmaz, 2000). These can be summarized as the following:

 Rather than adhering to a series of linear steps the researcher collects and analyzes data simultaneously. Constant comparison between data is done in a systematic and continuous effort to check and refine emerging categories.

 The data shape the processes and products of the research rather than preconceived logically deduced theoretical frameworks. This means that grounded theorists begin with general research questions rather than tightly formed hypotheses. In grounded theory research literature is read once the theory is well developed and it becomes apparent what form of literature needs to be read. It is incorporated into the theory if relevant. This relies on the researcher having and developing a theoretical sensitivity to what might emerge.

 Traditional quantitative canons of verification are not followed, rather developing ideas are checked with further specific data collection or theoretical sampling and the advancing theory determines the data collection.

 Grounded theorists study process and assume that making theoretical sense of social life is itself a process. They seek to discover a core category which all other categories revolve around or a basic social process so that ultimately they develop a theory which explains behavior rather than a description of the situation.

Grounded theory research is a method for discovering theories, concepts, hypotheses, and propositions directly from data rather than from a priori assumptions, other research, or existing theoretical frameworks (Taylor & Bogdan, 1998, p.137). Charmaz (2006) asserts in grounded theory, the research question should not pre- determine the study; rather the focus is determined by the problem which emerges as data

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are collected and analyzed. In Charmaz‘s (1992) terms, the researcher moves into an area of interest without a problem in his/her mind and instead he or she has abstract wonderment of what is going on that is an issue and how it is handled.

Constructivist Grounded Theory: In Theory Theoretically, Charmaz (2006, p.269) proposes researchers can use grounded theory methods to conduct constructivist studies derived from interpretive approaches, that is, ―to further their knowledge of subjective experience and to expand its representation while neither remaining external from it nor accepting objectivist assumptions and procedures.‖ Constructivist grounded theory is unapologetically subjective as it acknowledges that the researcher co-creates meaning with the participants. As a practice and a theory, constructivist grounded theory redefines the interaction between researcher and participants in the research process, and in doing so, brings to the fore the notion of the researcher as author. A student of Glaser and Strauss, Charmaz (2006) has emerged as the leading proponent of constructivist grounded theory. Charmaz has contended since the mid-1990s that a constructivist approach to grounded theory is both possible and desirable, because, ―Data do not provide a window on reality. Rather, the discovered reality arises from the interactive process and its temporal, cultural, and structural contexts‖ (Charmaz, 2006, p. 524).

Charmaz‘s (2006) work provides guidance in making meaning from the data, and rendering participants‘ experiences into readable theoretical interpretations. Emergent in her theory is a recognition that constructivist grounded researchers need to think about the ever-challenging question of how to resolve the tension that exists between developing a conceptual analysis of participants‘ stories and still creating a sense of their presence in the final text. Historically, grounded theory has been judged as silently authored, that is, researchers have maintained a position of ―distant expert‖ (Charmaz, 2006, p. 213). Revealing the researcher as the author of a co-construction of experience and meaning is an important yet challenging step in grounded theory research. In part, I contend that Charmaz‘s grounded theory addresses this challenge in developing a methodological model of constructivist grounded theory. I develop such a

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methodological model as I delineate how constructivist grounded theory was used in this project in the next section.

Constructivist Grounded Theory: In Practice Constructivist grounded theory uses an inductive model of data collection, analysis, and theorizing. In this section, I explain how I personally integrated constructivist grounded theory into this project as I listened to the children's discourse. So what exactly are ―the nuts and bolts‖ of constructivist grounded theory? I began with extensive observation, or "rich data gathering" (Charmaz, 2006, p. 33) and from that observation came numerous field notes. At the end of every observation day, I revisited the notes and I then coded them. "Coding means categorizing segments of data with a short name that simultaneously summarizes and accounts for the pieces of data. Your codes show you how you select, separate, and sort data to begin an analytic accounting of them," Charmaz, 2006, p. 33). My aim was to make an interpretive rendering that began the data collection as I illuminated the study life of the inside and outside spaces. Coding is the first step of definition in the process of generating theory regarding social observations. The coding process involves the narrowing and streamlining of notes as the beginning process of data collection simplification. Coding is also the beginning process of the co-construction of meaning between the observed in the observer. As Charmaz asserts (2006), language plays a crucial role in how the researcher codes. The empirical world does not appear to the researcher in some natural state apart from the human experience. Rather, the researcher knows the empirical world through language and the actions taken towards it. In this sense, no researcher is neutral because language can first form and meaning on observed realities. Specific use of language reflects views and values.

We share one language with colleagues and perhaps another with friends; we attribute meanings to specific terms and hold perspectives. Our codes arise from the languages, meanings, and perspectives through which we learn about the empirical world, including those of our participants as well as our own. We construct our codes because we're actively naming data—even when we believe our codes form a perfect fit with actions and events in the studied world. We may think our codes capture the empirical reality. Yet it is our view; we choose the

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words that constitute our codes we define what we see is significant in the data (Charmaz, 2006, p. 47).

Ongoing coding was used as I compared new codes to previous codes taken on other days. I was specifically seeking common threads of similarity between the strings of observation days. When I found similarities, I created memos. According to constructivist grounded theory, memo-writing is the pivotal intermediate step between data collection and writing drafts of papers. When memos are written, the researcher stops and analyzes ideas about the codes in any way that occurs during the moment. During the data collection and analysis, I actually used note cards to create memos with the help of Nvivo7, qualitative data analysis software. With Nvivo7, the software helped manage the data but the researcher still must code the data memos. I began each memo with a generalization. For example, taken from one memo about Appalachian girls, I entitled this memo, "Many Appalachian girls are silent inside science classrooms." I continued to write, "In the science room, many of the Appalachian girls use silence as part of their discourse. Lack of volume does not equal lack of thought. They are thinking, and when they talk, most of them talk in whispers. Several Appalachian girls use backtalk as part of their discourse, regardless of who the backtalk targets." The final stage of my use of constructivist grounded theory involved writing the initial drafts of the findings. Constructivist grounded theory forces the researcher to analyze the data during the data collection. It is this final step that makes grounded theory different from other ethnographic research. As I was examining space and how that influence learning, I tried to analyze the data in the same spaces where the data was collected. As explained earlier, this analysis in spaces happened often but not as often as I had hoped. Weather and timing were the two biggest obstacles to this research goal.

Participants/Setting

Finding participants and a setting for the study proved to be challenging. First, I needed to find a school with a stream on or near school property. Second, I needed to find a teacher who would allow me to teach stream-related lessons and not only allow me to take students into stream water but also welcome me as part of the class culture during data collection. I found such a teacher in Sue (a pseudonym.). Primary participants were

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Sue‘s fifth grade students at Country Dale Middle School (also a pseudonym), located in rural Southwest Ohio. The district is composed of one elementary school, the middle school, and one high school, all grouped on the same campus. Behind the campus is a 127-acre nature preserve owned by the district. A stream winds through the preserve and was a central location for this study. The classes also visited two other streams in the community.

Researcher Role: Situating the Researcher The context of the study extended beyond the children, classrooms, and school. I also had to consider the conditions that I brought to this study: my personal history, my theoretical perspectives on teaching and learning and the topic of classroom meetings, and the methodological choices I have made about my role within the study. Graue and Walsh (1998) remind us, "theory is the context within which researchers work" (p. 24). They speak of theory metaphorically as a map or guide. I chose social constructivism to guide this project and my teaching during the project as, to me, it was a best fit with this particular study. Social constructivism supports my views regarding how students learn and, in turn, teachers need to provide an educational environment that allows opportunities for social interactions to flourish.

Participation/Observation: Seeing Data from Both Perspectives

Charmaz (2006) would assert that my role as a participant/observer is loaded with power. As such, a gap exists between what children do and what I decide to document and make important to the observed ―spaces of science.‖ As a teacher/researcher, I selected, edited, facilitated, and contributed to their knowledge and construction of environmental awareness while in the process of studying certain aspects of the work. My influence on the scope of the stream monitoring curriculum, the use of time, and the structuring of the events which supported the community of decision-makers, shaped the entire unit. To prevent the perpetuation of failed theories and the miscommunications rooted in incongruent cultural models that give rise to them, I contend that social constructivist teachers should position themselves as researchers of their students‘ cultural models. Culture and the often unconscious nature of these cultural models are often difficult to

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observe. Researchers of cultural models must rely on a combination of verbalizations and observations to understand these cultural models (Gee, 2005). Through conversations with and observations of the students in the classroom, teachers form an understanding of who the students are and can work to shape educational experiences to these cultural models and interests, linking educational content to the lived realities of the students. By employing such pedagogy, teachers work to create a classroom ―space‖ for the students‘ cultural models instead of a classroom ―place.‖ While that distinction focuses around collaborative environments, the discussion can easily be translated back to classroom environments. What exactly does social constructivist teaching look like? I include a brief teaching synopsis that I used with this theoretical grounding. As I had the opportunity to work with children in Country Dale‘s Nature Club, an after-school opportunity for 24 children ranging from grades 5 to 8, I also had the chance to reflect on my role as a social constructivist educator. I include the following paragraphs to illustrate what occured in my teaching as I began the study. Sue asked me to lead a lesson during the next Nature Club Meeting, so I chose a lesson about how animals adapt to winter. The lesson‘s goal was to show the children that animals in Ohio adapt to winter in one of three ways; they hibernate, migrate, or tolerate during winter. Tolerate means the animals are still active but adapt to the cold in some way (perhaps by growing thicker fur, freezing solid, or scavenging for food.) The children were asked to begin the lesson by creating a large pie graph with these three adaptation categories labeled while they worked in small groups. They then made predictions by placing common Ohio animal names in one of the three categories. After about ten minutes of categorizing and discussing their ideas, I asked each group to select a spokesperson who would share ways that five animals adapted to winter. I also stressed that the spokesperson had to be confident in his or her selections. When it came time for the third group to share, all girls, Sara (a pseudonym) confidentially asserted that Black-Capped Chickadees migrated to Florida from her yard here. This is actually untrue. Carolina Chickadees, the species that lives in Ohio, are year-round residents. They can adapt their feeding habits from eating insects in the warmer

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months to digesting seeds in the cooler months. When Sara held onto her ideas, several other children disagreed. (Cognitive constructivists would assert her idea was ‗naïve‘ or a ‗misconception,‘ whereas, social constructivists would contend that there were socio-cultural influences to her ideas and as such, they needed to be considered.) Before I knew it, Sara was convincing everyone in the club she was right and did so with great enthusiasm. I continued, not wanting to tell her she was wrong. A part of me began to believe her too as I got swept up into her enthusiasm. Troubled with that encounter, I sought the advice of the resident ornithologist at Miami and asked, ―Could these birds ever migrate?.‖ He assured me these birds only flew within a two mile radius throughout their entire life and migration, with this species, was impossible. Sara was wrong, but I was determined to revisit that subject again. I wanted to revisit this subject at the next club meeting. I was eagerly hoping Sara would be there and that I would have time to do so. My goal was also not to argue with Sara or to prove her wrong in front of the club members. When the meeting began, I asked the children to review what they remembered from the following meeting. To my surprise, they remembered their responses accurately. I asked Sara to share her ideas about the chickadees. She did and I then asked, ―What makes you think they migrate?‖ She told me chickadees are not around in the winter. I asked her where she had seen them and she told me next door from her house, around the feed mill grain storage facilities in the fall. Uh-huh, I thought (to me, she had seen them eating grain in the fall when most grain is turned into feed. Winter comes and there‘s less seed outside, and as a result, there are less birds eating the seed.) I asked her about the birds eating behavior. ―Can you tell me when you see them eat?‖ Sara was detailed in explaining that she saw them in mornings and at dusk. She started to smile when she was telling me about them and where they were eating. ―How could you find a way to determine if they were still eating in winter here?‖ I asked. I then turned that question over to the club members. Arms shot up with eager ideas from members. Sara said she could put out that same seed in feeders and watch them for ―long periods of time‖ (her words). (Field Notes: December 12, 2006).

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I did not tell Sara that she was wrong. I instead allowed her the opportunity to think about her ideas and time to process her thinking with the group. I also allowed the club members the opportunity to discuss their ideas and respond to Sara‘s thinking. All discussions were based on lived observations as this was science not covered in state or national curricula. Culture informed this discussion as well as all these club members had observed chickadees at their homes or farms. In essence, the children‘s ability to freely play outside at their homes, like Sara‘s rurality, contributed to their previous experiences and their thinking. By engaging in dialogue with other learners, Sara was able to determine the best course for her question-answering and as a result, this real world observation became an inquiry. She determined that she needed to spend more time watching birds as we began another related lesson. As I drove home that night, I actually saw Sara standing under an umbrella in the rain as she was staring at birds in the feed mill lot.

Access and Selection Country Dale Middle School is in the northern part of Grant County, in southwestern Ohio. The Appalachian Regional Commission has identified Grant County as one of Ohio‘s thirteen Appalachian counties. The school was chosen because it is rural, it has a significant Appalachian population, and most importantly, it has a supportive cadre of fifth grade teachers for the project. The Country Dale Middle School faculty and staff welcomed me and this project with unprecedented enthusiasm. For this welcoming openness, I am deeply grateful. I plan to constantly keep avenues of communication open throughout my tenure at the school and in years to come. Children were selected who had written parental permission. In the middle of the data collection period, all children were asked to verbally elaborate on where they visited relatives in other states. From these conversations with all three classroom teachers and all 62 children on this fifth grade team, 20 children were identified as having significant family ties to family in any of the Appalachian counties of Kentucky, West Virginia, Tennessee, or Alabama. The children often had relatives in many of the counties geographically isolated from one another.

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Data Sources Primary data sources included field notes, science reflexive journals, and stream lesson audiotape experiences. Field notes taken from January 2007 to June 2007 showed the day-to-day life of students as they engaged in discourse. I used field notes as a place to record direct observations about the children‘s actions and conversations. Field notes accompanied the taped conversations during science investigations inside the classroom, on the school property, and at related stream monitoring sites. They also were collected in tandem during audio taped discussions with the students. In brief, the entire semester‘s science discourse, including ―fruitful trails and dead ends‖ was chronicled in this collection. Categories for observational notes were based on suggestions by Charmaz (2006) and informed my process of coding field notes. I collected various children‘s reflexive science journals at particular times during the semester to monitor the impact of our environmental activities. I included their reflexive entries as part of their discourse. These children were chosen using Charmaz‘s grounded theory methodology (2006) after I memoed and generated initial theories. Should ―thin‖ theoretical categories result, I purposively selected certain children to ―flesh out a theory.‖ Examining student writing further supported my assertion that children were capable and competent documenters of environmental insight in their own right. This class of fifth graders wrote whenever we conducted stream-related inquiries. I analyzed how their language was shaped by the location of where they conducted and documented the experience. As often as I could, considering time and weather constraints, I asked students to reflect in their journals in the same space where the experience occurred. Recordings of the students‘ discourse, stream lesson audiotape experiences, were used in the places where the students did science. As Bowen and Roth (2007) found in working with ecology graduate students, the use of recording technology was especially challenging at the stream sites. Therefore, each student group received inexpensive tape recorders in addition to the stream monitoring equipment. Secondary data sources included photographs. No other means of data collection can as effectively capture the places and spaces where science occurs as photographs. The

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students and I photographed the stream monitoring activities using digital cameras, an effective method for studying how participants respond to environmental challenges. I also requested that students bring to school artifactual photographs, which helped to demonstrate that streams have history—by themselves and, more importantly, in relation to people. As Appalachians are closely connected to the land, I found amazing artifactual photographs of families using streams for work, recreation, and even in religious ceremonies.

Field Notes In this research, I drew upon interpretive information from multiple data sources in order to tell a detailed story about lives that are flowing and variable. Corsaro (2004) suggests that taking a different look at the data through ―theoretical sampling‖ allow the researcher to shift questions and approaches to fit what were happening in the classroom. ―The nature of ethnographic research demands that sampling procedures be reactive to developments in the course of the research‖ (p.78). I used memos to construct a theory trail, guide my interpretive inquiry, and reflect on the daily entries of interactions contained in field notes. Reviewing those memos helped me know what other data I needed to gather.

Field notes beginning in January, 2007, and continuing until June, 2007, showed the day-to-day life of the learning community as it were developing. I used field notes as a place to record direct observations about the children‘s actions. Field notes accompanied the taped conversations during environmental activities inside the classroom, on the school property, and at related field trip sites. Field notes listed the physical surroundings, moods, and dispositions of the children as they reflected on questions that arose from the stream monitoring experiences. Field notes were collected in tandem during videotaped discussions with Sue. In brief, the entire semester‘s discoveries were chronicled in this collection. I however, modified Charmaz‘s methods when I created a simplified field note format of my own, using the related categories and codings with my own initial field notes as I contended that this study used ―grounded theory methodologies‖ as opposed to using Charmaz‘s pure grounded theory methodology in which she elaborates on in specific, and somewhat formulaic, terms. As

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a beginning researcher already conducting a study ―out of the box‖, my goal was to allow as much flexibility in creating theories and not get buried in following a prescribed data collection format.

Reflexivity and Reflexive Journaling ―Writing up‖ qualitative research is not without its challenges. ―Reflexivity‖ has become a legitimate topic for discussion for qualitative research as the "linguistic" and "interpretative turn" has emerged in philosophy, psychology and social theory. Denzin and Lincoln (2003) argue for three broad divisions of qualitative approaches in social science: 1) positivism and post-positivism; 2) constructivism and critical theory; and 3) interpretative perspectives. There has been a focus both on language and discourse as well as on practice as inquiry at the heart of constructivism and interpretative perspectives. As Stewart (2000, p.726) points out, language "as both constituting and being constituted by social practices, and as spanning the conceptual divide between individual and culture, private and public, becomes both the object of and a vehicle for social science research." Historically, this ―Crisis of Representation‖ in qualitative research, starting in the 1980‘s, acknowledges that issues including but not limited to gender, class, and race influence representation in qualitative research. As a result, the goal of using reflexivity, or reflection in action, is invaluable throughout the writing up practice. I used reflexive journal journaling throughout the duration of the data collection. It became a ready record of my feelings, perceptions, and inquiries that guided my collection of other field notes, suggested ways to think about particular incidents in greater detail, and reflected on the process of being a participant/observer. Using memos to track my perceptions about the changing role I had in the classroom encouraged me to seek out alternative views of teacher/researcher actions.

Children’s Science Journals

I collected all children‘s science journals at particular times during the semester in order to monitor the effect that the stream monitoring experiences had on them. Looking at the children‘s writing further supported my assertion that children are capable and competent documenters of environmental insight in their own right. This class of fifth

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graders wrote every day that time allowed for all 32 days of the stream monitoring unit. While much of their writing seemed both ―naïve‖ and hurried (considering where we were during the unit), it was, nevertheless, their own ideas. I analyzed, as in all data collection techniques, how culture shaped their ideas, problem solving, and decisions, both individual and shared with group members.

Photographs I had always wanted to use photography for data collection and now as digital cameras are so affordable and were used in so many varying ways, I made them a central part of the experience for the fifth graders. Photographing activities became important for the children and me during the semester. The digital cameras were an additional concrete reminder that we were seeking ways how students respond to environmental challenges during the stream monitoring unit. Because of the unique process of me collecting data on the students as they collected stream data, there was an ongoing comparison between my research and the subsequent data I was collecting and the data during the stream monitoring that the children were collecting. Due to this continual comparison, there was often the challenge of the students not knowing my role at any given moment…was I observing them as they made sense of the science experiences or was I in the teaching mode of making sure they had enough tools (knowledge and equipment) to properly collect data and then interpret it? The taking of pictures by all participants—teachers, children, and me—gave the children the opportunity to have the power of the camera. We all learned early on that a photographer has power and continually asserts that power when they find the ―right‖ image to help portray a story, feeling, or event. The critical distance that the photographs provided helped me as a researcher and a teacher stand next to and in front of the children simultaneously. As the children increased their knowledge about stream health issues, as well as their knowledge about the digital camera, their photographs and my photographs served as concrete reminders about the work we were doing together. It became an additional way to capture the process of co-construction of community-based decision makers in which the children, the teachers, and I were mutually engaged. Photographing extensively becomes a visual field note that we both interpreted together. My reflexive journal indicated that I was

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looking for a way to make the photographs more representative of the child‘s perception of community-based problem solving. As the semester continued, most all of the children shared in the camera work. I also photographed and sorted photos into categories that helped the children, Sue, and I make sense of the process of conducting stream monitoring units. Child- initiated and teacher selected photographs became a way to provoke discourse for children and not only Sue, but all of the teachers. The photographs informed later discourse during the stream unit. What we could see, we could remember. What we could remember, we could reconstruct and interpret. Through the reconstruction period of data analysis, I began hearing the meanings the children, teachers, and I gave to the photographs. The photographs, presented in the documentation of the stream experiences that we pursued, helped me see the complex life and voices that were emerging around the stream monitoring issue. The photos helped the children recreate meaning with classmates and retell stories that may bring the classroom decision making together bound by cultural problem solving. This visual narrative (Harper, 2000) strengthened the written one and elicited cultural information that might have gone unnoticed in the busy world of fifth graders. As it were, the children and I became more adept at describing that world as the study progressed because we had a ―reality‖ in hand to discuss.

Research Goals

Over the course of the five month data collection, I used a culturally responsive or culturally relative pedagogy which emphasizes place-based experiences with rural Appalachian fifth graders. I served as both participant observer and observer as the fifth grade science teacher and I shared the instruction of the stream-monitoring unit. All of the ecological education activities focused on a stream-monitoring unit which will occurred in the classroom, on the school grounds, and in near-by streams. In this study, I used a combination of sociocultural constructivism and culturally relevant teaching practices during the stream monitoring unit. Culturally responsive teaching, as defined by several scholars in cultural studies including Ladson-Billings (1994) and Gay (2000), elaborate that the concept of a culturally responsive pedagogy encourages the teacher to build upon what children know and do, and goes beyond to empower students

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"intellectually, socially, emotionally and politically by using cultural referents to impart knowledge, skills and attitudes" (Ladson-billings, 1994, p.18). The metaphor of a bridge (Ladson-Billings, 1994; Zeichner, 1996) is often used to understand how culturally responsive teaching uses the child's culture as access to successful academic achievement. Culturally responsive teaching places the child's culture alongside the mainstream culture supported by the dominant standard curriculum (Macedo, 1994) by encouraging a deeper study, knowledge and celebration of one's own culture. It also attempts to connect the culture of the school to that of the child's home. For Gay (2000), culturally responsive teaching uses the cultural characteristics of diverse students as tools for teaching and learning. Students are able to use their ways of knowing, their experiences and their backgrounds as they learn and create new meanings in their studies. In order to do this Villegas and Lucas (2002) developed six characteristics that define the culturally responsive teacher:

1) Is socially conscious, that is, recognizes that there are multiple ways of perceiving reality and that these ways are influenced by one's location in the social order; 2) Has affirming views of students from diverse backgrounds, seeing resources for learning in all students rather than viewing differences as problems to overcome; 3) Sees himself or herself as both responsible for and capable of bringing about educational change that will make schools more responsive to all students; 4) Understands how learners construct knowledge and is capable of promoting learners' knowledge construction; 5) Knows about the lives of his or her students; 6) Uses his or her knowledge about students' lives to design instruction that builds on what they already know while stretching them beyond the familiar (p xiv). Using culturally responsive pedagogy was not without its challenges. The benefits far outweighed the challenges during the stream monitoring unit.

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Constructivist Grounded Theory: Revealing Many Layers of Meaning Constructivist grounded theory recognizes that categories, concepts, and the theoretical level of analysis emerge from the researcher‘s interactions within the field and questions about the data (Charmaz, 2006). Since I was interested in student discourse and the cultural underpinnings thereof, the initial ―write ups‖ served as an exercise in construction that freed me from knowing everything. I had the pleasure of seeing the ―facts‖ of the ―community culture‖ unfold and I had the obligation to let the students do so using constructivist theory. Relying on the interactive process of discourse documentation and child/teacher interpretation, I framed the action and conferred meaning on it. The theoretical sampling of selecting students who supported the emergent theory under question did more than move me to the data one more time. It also helped me ―study experience from the standpoint of those who lived it‖ (Charmaz, 2000, p.522). The kinds of categories that emerged under a constructivist framework were multi- leveled and at times, dense. While my study does not pretend to examine the full possibilities of theoretical sampling, my beginning steps with it convinced me of its worth. Memoing, which Charmaz (2006) and Richardson (2000) use, allowed me to consider how the components of grounded theory could work as reminders of data that were both practical and theoretical in nature. I posted them within field notes and journal reflections where they served as markers for particular thoughts I had about the action I saw and interpreted.

Trustworthiness Everyone interprets reality differently. This is especially true in any district, school, or classroom. Moreover, both children and teachers have differing perceptions about what happens at any given moment during any activity. The continual change of classroom life is usually not troubled by claims of authority and legitimacy. The typical position of teacher as the ultimate authority precludes any discussion of what is valid in the classroom. What my study sought to examine was not the typical or generalizable. Again, I am proposing the need for a new definition of scientific literacy and an Appalachian culturally-responsive pedagogy, and with that definition comes the need for

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discourse analysis. Focusing on the relationships that exist between a particular teacher and her children, and searching for ways to interpret intentions and motivations for teaching and learning, led me closer to what Lincoln & Guba (2003) among others, consider being valid: an ethical relationship. ―The way in which we know the world is most assuredly tied up with both what we know and our relationships with those we study‖ (p. 183). Lincoln & Guba (2003) list criteria for trustworthiness which seem to be compatible with my study. ―Credibility, applicability, dependability, and conformability are legitimate for critical evaluators‖ and can be used to argue the usefulness of stories that are created in a particular context and told in a particular way. The credibility of my findings depends on what Lincoln & Guba (2003) call ―trustworthiness.‖ Methods of data collection that I selected to uncover through student talk during environmental activities also illustrates the plausible nature of ethnographic research: the length of the semester, the persistent observation of child initiated and selected activities written in field notes, the reflection in child and teacher reflexive journals, photographs continually screened for interpretation ,intention, and culture, etc. Children‘s reactions to the events of the classroom and continued member checks provided by informal teacher discussions support the argument that my data were credible. Those elements clearly led to a multifaceted picture of the cultured decisions made all within the school, on the school grounds, and in the classroom. Multiple voices, multiple data sources, and individualized interpretations about the actions under consideration allow for a rich picture of the culture of learning. Fine, et.al. (2003) warn about the recursive state of social analysis, asks herself and other researchers to address, ―Have I deployed multiple methods so that different kinds of analyses can be constructed?‖ (p. 199). Within the analysis of this study, children‘s ideas and stories, through discourse, were changing as they proceed through a process of scientific awareness possibly leading to scientific action. Recognizing those factors that contribute to this change in course of action through student talk in by the fifth graders, and theorizing about why the change is occurring, is one more aspect of credible research. Other issues of trustworthiness must be considered as well. Lincoln & Guba (2003) cite prolonged engagement and persistent observation as crucial. ―If prolonged engagement provides scope, persistent observation provides depth‖ (p. 304). It is equally important to select methods that complement each other and add to

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that feeling of credibility. Using constructivist grounded theory methods that included memoing and repeated interaction with field notes and participants, increased alternative interpretations. Those alternatives, whether confirming or disconfirming the study, enhance the trustworthiness of the work. Other criteria can be used for determining the validity of a qualitative study. An issue of voice (who is heard and who is silenced) also speaks to the trustworthiness of the study.

Ethical Concerns Due to the nature of the research questions, the confidentiality provided through carefully maintained participant anonymity, and my status as a graduate student with no connections to the teachers or school administration, there was a minimal threat to the well-being of the children in the study as a result of their participation. My stance of "empathetic neutrality" minimized the threat of "interviewing as exploitation‖ which is a process that often turns others into subjects so that their words can be appropriated for the benefit of the researcher" (Seidman, 1991, p. 7). I attempted to avoid such an ethical problem as seen in some studies.

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Chapter 4: The Ethnographic Account

van Manen (1988) charges that writers of the ethnography are frequently challenged to choose an authoritarian voice which is representative of the culture being studied, which also considers the goals and the purpose of the writer and the writing itself, and, through carefully negotiated process of equilibrium, finds a balance between the two. Ethnographies join culture and fieldwork. In a sense, they sit between two worlds or systems of meaning—the world of the ethnographer and the world of cultural members. Ethnographies are documents that pose questions at the margins between two cultures. They necessarily decode one culture while recoding it for another (Barthes, 1972). This is an interpretive act that occurs with the writing of texts, and as with any form of writing, certain constraints partially determine what is written (p.4).

Using ethnography to inform this description, I take van Manen‘s charge as I attempt to represent the voices of the children and their teachers I studied by using an impressionist tale to tell not only tell the actor‘s stories, but my story as well. As opposed to van Manen‘s realist tale or his confessional tale, the impressionist tale seeks to paint a canvas of reality through artistic means, interesting and well chosen dialogue, and a rich descriptive context through dramatic recall. In this sort of tale, events are remembered roughly in the order in which they occurred, readers are taken into possibly unfamiliar places with interesting and often surprising people, and commentary is often minimized suggesting that these colorful events are representative of culture and can stand alone to paint the picture. The impressionist tale is more art than science, although the data that supports this ethnography definitely exists. Whereas the realist tale is more like a photograph, the impressionist tale is that of a painting. The painter has the freedom to highlight certain features of the subject being painted just as the ethnographer of the impressionist tale has that same opportunity and responsibility to fill a canvas through imagery and detail. This ethnographic description focuses on three selected days from the five month observation period at Country Dale Middle School. While every day allowed me to

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immerse myself into the school culture, I have chosen to paint the picture of the five months of data collection through three different and meaningful days found within those five months. Methodologically, as described in Chapter 3, this study combines traditional ethnographic characteristics with grounded theory methodologies. Considering that this ethnographic dissertation centers on spaces and how children talk in those spaces, following the foundations of ethnography, I provide a rich description of each of those spaces. Taking from Charmaz‘s constructivist grounded theory (2006), which emphasizes procedure or phenomenon over setting, I begin this painting with the initial descriptive brushstrokes of the children and their ―ways with words.‖ I also include a brief historical review of the community surrounding the Country Dale Middle School and its district at this chapter‘s conclusion. The ethnographic account begins with my entry into the field on the first day of observation. In this section, I introduce many of the identified Appalachian children of this project. The second day of observation was chosen because it was truly a breakthrough day, as it was the day when I discreetly determined which children were of Appalachian heritage. The third day was undoubtedly one of the most exciting days of the field experience for the children and me. This was the day that all three of the fifth grade classes monitored two local streams in the county with their teachers and led by many parents. The stream data collection all happened in one day and it proved to be rich in data, talk, and moisture. Note: All participant names used in this ethnographic account were self-chosen by the participants themselves. I chose the synonymic place names.

Description and Cultural History of the Area

Description of Grant County The Country Dale School District sits in the Northeast quadrant of Grant County, Ohio. Grant County borders the Ohio River. Grant County is located in southwestern Ohio. To the east are the city of Cincinnati and its suburbs cover a portion of Grant‘s county‘s 394 square miles. The county‘s largest township is Bracken, home of the county seat, with a population of 42,332 people in 2000. The largest village is Maynard, with a population of 6,249 people in 2000. Grant County experienced tremendous growth

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between 1990 and 2000, as many residents of Cincinnati moved away from the business of this major city. Between 1995 and 2000, approximately 11,000 people moved to Grant County, increasing the county‘s population to 177,977 residents. The county averages 394 people per square mile. Most Grant County residents work in Cincinnati. Those residents that find employment in the county proper usually work in sales, manufacturing, or service industries. In 1999, the per capita income was just over $26,000, with less than seven percent of the population living in poverty. Most voters in Grant County claim to be independents, yet in recent years, they have overwhelmingly supported Republican Party candidates at all governmental levels.

Culture and Grant County Grant County is not only steeped in historic relevance to this dissertation, but its cultural past is worth consideration and exploration as people and attitudes in the community and Country Dale School District interacted and often clashed as a result of their cultural heritage. I begin this section with an articulation of the three various groups of people who have inhabited Grant County throughout its rich past 400 years. There is clear evidence of each cultural group currently living in Grant County and specifically attending the Country Dale Middle School. The first group—descendents of indigenous Native Americans—still reside in the area and attend the Country Dale School District. The second group, the majority of the residents in the school district, is of European descent from primarily the eastern coast of the United States; they are firmly planted in rural Grant County. In the fifth grade alone, many of the children still today have the same last names as prominent founding families of Grant County. More recently, the third group and the next wave of Grant County immigrants migrated from the Appalachian Mountains. Many of the descendents of these migrants still live in the county and attend the Country Dale School District.

The cultural influence of European settlers on Grant County, to this day, is unarguably left by the cultural contributions of those European descendents. Founding members with surnames including Glancy, Shaw, Roudebush, Hutchinson, Shinkel, Burdsall, and Pattison were ―founding citizens‖ of the county. As markers of current

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identity, those names are still alive and strong in the county as there was at least one fifth grader with each of those last names currently attending Country Dale Middle School, and most of these families had many children in the middle school alone. Attitudes die hard and have a long life, especially when attitudes exist about people. As the focus of this dissertation is on the way descendents of the Appalachian culture currently represent themselves through discourse, I made it quite clear to any teachers or parents of students that I was specifically targeting the children from Country Dale Middle School who are of Appalachian descent. I learned early and quickly that the word "Appalachian" was often translated by some of these individuals as "hillbilly, redneck, white trash, trailer trash‖, or, at best "economically disadvantaged or underprivileged.‖ Whatever the translation, it was never good to be Appalachian, and more importantly, ―They certainly aren't us,‖ was the attitude of some of the descendents of the founding Grant County families. For instance, in talking to one mother of a fifth grade boy whose maiden name is the same as one of the founding members, I shared that I was specifically targeting children of Appalachian descent. As I brainstormed ways of determining the children's cultural heritage in her presence, and when I talked about one child in particular, she pointedly said, "That child obviously isn't Appalachian. His grades are too good.‖ A teacher in the building with a prominent and historic Grant County last name, who also attended that same district, later said without hesitation to me, "Why do you have to highlight the worst of Grant County? Why can't you focus on normal or average kids?‖ Attitudes do indeed die hard.

Appalachian Migration into Southwestern Ohio Americans have been historically and culturally mobile over the past 200 years. I focus on European-Americans specifically when I use the term, ―Americans.‖ I realize this usage may be Eurocentric; however, I am focusing on once-European descendents. Our country was founded, as Anglos would assert, on human migration from other countries. So it comes without surprise that Americans have migrated within the country as well. Increasing industrialization beginning at the turn-of-the-century starting in 1910 caused a newfound form of migration in the eastern United States. Southerners were increasingly moving westward and northward. In the 20th century, World War 1 marks

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essentially the beginning of what some scholars (Berry, 2000; Stewart, 2000) refer to as The Great White Migration. Previous decades of hardscrabble poverty in agriculture and overpopulation, resulting in overcrowding and employment competition, was a push for many white Southerners to leave the region with the onset of wartime industry and jobs suddenly were the main pull. The flood of Kentuckians who swept through the Miami Valley of Southwestern Ohio dates from 1916, when company recruiters from steel mills, paper factories, and automobile manufacturers traveled through the eastern Kentucky countryside nailing posters to trees that advertised jobs in Ohio cities including Hamilton, Middletown, and Cincinnati. Likewise, Kentuckians migrated to other, smaller towns in neighboring counties to work at field hands picking tobacco, onions, and corn. According to one scholar (Obermiller, 2000), in 1927, 70% of certain cities in Grant County were of Appalachian descent, including the cities of Berea and Fairview. Berea borders the Country Dale School District. With such a vast, historic migration came the sweeping influence of the migrant‘s culture as well.

The Spaces

The Country Dale School District and “THE TEST” The Country Dale School District sits in the northeastern corner of the county. Geographically, the district is the largest school district in the county, but ironically, it is the third smallest of the county‘s thirteen school districts in terms of student enrollment. The students in the district are generally economically diverse, but with 37% on a free and/or reduced lunch program, the district serves a significant portion of students living in poverty. Even those families not below the poverty line fall below the county‘s average family income of $49,386.00 per year. For instance, in Parisburg, the average annual household income is $24,800.00, while a nearby Reynoldsburg, it is $26,750.00 and in Exxon, another small town in the school district, it is $21,753.00. The district is one of two districts in the county which offers the program Future Farmers of America (F.F.A.) as a part of the high school curriculum. As a result, the high school has a full- time agriculture education teacher on staff. Due to this curricular offering, the Ohio Department of Education designates that the Country Dale School District as a rural district. According to the Ohio Department of Education, using the Typology of Ohio

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School Districts, a classification system for districts within the state, this district ranks as a Type 2 School District. By definition, Type 2 districts are rural and poor and have an agricultural base; they also have small student populations, low to medium poverty rates, and low to moderate family incomes. The Country Dale School District has maintained a rating of academic watch or continuous improvement over the course of the history of the state standards assessment for the past nine years. Of the state‘s five designations and rankings of district and school building academic performance—Excellent, Effective, Continuous Improvement, Academic Watch or Academic Emergency —the Country Dale School District has academically performed consistently on the low end of the designations scale. Due to struggling performance, the school district replaced the superintendent three times in nine years, the building administrators have been replaced or reconfigured seven times in nine years, and the teachers have been reshuffled every year with the goal of achieving the "best testing fit for the children." Many teachers have been switched six or seven times in those nine years. The year before my research, the fifth grade children at the middle school in the Country Dale School District failed to pass the majority of their academic tests. Fifth- and eighth- grade students are the only students who currently take all four academic subject tests in one year in the state of Ohio for reading, mathematics, citizenship, and science. Obviously, there is much pressure to pass the tests and this pressure is directly linked to the children, their teachers, and the district administrators. Collectively, the fifth grade students failed to pass all the tests except science. All of the teachers were told by the superintendent to choose another grade level because they were not putting the district at risk again. Two of the eight teachers stayed in the fifth grade. Sue Ponder and Rebecca Ringwald, Sue‘s teammate in mathematics, were the only teachers who were ―allowed‖ to stay in the grade. Like every other district in the state, every moment of the fifth grade school day in the Country Dale Middle School was theoretically supposed to be linked to passing all four of the academic tests. Likewise, everything at the middle school involving the students, according to Shelby, should have been linked to achieving this academic goal. ―THE TEST‖ permeated the building throughout the academic year as every space that involves children involved "THE TEST." The middle school signboard featured continually revolving weekly messages regarding testing dates and intervention class

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meetings as an ongoing and blatant reminder of this fact. Motivational messages regarding the test were frequently featured on the sign as well. A bulletin board hung in the front hallway, near the office and was entitled, "Testing Tidbits." This bulletin board highlighted each grade level as represented by a cardboard thermometer. Instead of temperature increments measuring degrees of heat, specific subject-related state academic outcomes were sectioned off on each of the four thermometers measuring the mastery of those outcomes. Vividly and visually, each grade was pitted against one another in the race to achieve the best testing results. In Sue's fifth grade science classroom, the most daunting and visible sign of testing accountability was in the 8' x 3' chart of fifth grade science indicators by the front bulletin board. When the class had mastered the academic standard together, Sue and the children wrote in the date of this mastery on the chart. The children completed their own copy of the chart, which was taped to each desk. Besides seeing ―THE TEST‖ so often, the test permeated the curriculum as well. Questions and discussions throughout the classroom day were phrased and rephrased using test speak— the language of testing— and not a moment of instructional time was wasted in non-test related talk. For example, like her colleagues, Sue would often either insert vocabulary language found on the test or redirect student responses to so they included the suggested vocabulary. One morning, Sue asked the first period science students to describe the relationship Earth has with the sun. As children would use phrases such as ―goes around‖ or ―spins around,‖ Sue would immediately add comments such as, ―You mean orbit, right?‘ or ―What you‘re trying to say is actually rotate.‖ When such comments are phrased in such a way, the children had little room to disagree.

In an early meeting with the school‘s principal, Shelby Williams, we discussed our individual philosophies of a standardized test that was so prevalent in schools that it has entirely and profoundly changed the culture of schooling altogether. I will confess that I think public schools are going in the wrong direction with its emphasis on academic testing and achievement-oriented outcomes. I believe that one size does not fit all, regardless if we‘re discussing clothing, automobiles, or children's academic assessment. In the conversation, Shelby best summed up her attitude towards the test in the following

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quote: "The test is like a bathroom scale at Weight Watchers meeting —you would avoid it if you could, but it's the simple reason you're there. Even though it's supposed to be helping you, at least in theory, it's often painful to endure.‖ I included a section on "THE TEST" because I would be much like an ostrich sticking my head in the sand if I avoided the topic and how it affected the schooling day at the Country Dale School District today and in the fifth grade in particular. A school curriculum and teaching pedagogy based on test preparation, as I would soon discover, would dramatically influence the Appalachian children and how they spoke about science inside.

The Country Dale Middle School Campus The Country Dale Middle School is one of three buildings which comprise the Country Dale School District Main Campus on Weaver Road outside of Parisburg. When facing the three buildings, the middle school sits on the far right next to the Baptist Church. To the left of the middle school is the lake and on the other side of the lake is Country Dale High School, built five years earlier than the middle school. Next to the football field of the high school is the Early Childhood Education and Community Center. This building, once an elementary school, holds the Head Start Program as well as the kindergarten classes of children. In Parisburg, grades one through four attend school on a separate campus in a single building. On the other side of the early childhood building is the newly constructed athletic field complex which consists of three baseball diamonds and three soccer fields. This complex is a half-mile down the road from the middle school. Behind all of these buildings and fields is the 127 acre Outdoor Nature Center. When the middle school was built, this property was purchased because it was inexpensive and a "waste of agricultural space," according to the then-superintendent as it was mostly woods. Additionally, the ever-expanding Country Dale campus blocked any agricultural access to the road. The nature center is an actual nature preserve, documented as the largest school-owned nature Center in Ohio, according to many of the middle school teachers. The natural area consists of a lake, the meadow behind the lake, the deciduous forest featuring trees common to Ohio. In the far eastern part of the property runs a stream which flows in a south-westerly direction. A Class II Stream, it is approximately 8 meters from bank to bank at the school site. Due to high temperatures

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and the dry spring, the stream‘s depth sank and became quite shallow in the time that I was collecting data.

The outdoor center is perhaps the most impressive outdoor learning center I have ever seen on a school site. With its breathtaking views along the trail‘s edge into the valley, a healthy stream that consists of ideal conditions for diverse flora and fauna, and unique wildlife even for the county, the center would be the envy of any nature preserve much less any school district in Ohio. Unfortunately, the center is quite underappreciated by the district as a whole. While few teachers are interested in using this learning area, most of the teachers in the three buildings rarely, if ever, use the facility. Here lies the problem. There is a lack of "facility" in this space. The bridges that once were new are no longer new and many of the wooden railroad tie steps are either rotten or have gone missing. The shelter next to the middle school is heavily used as compared to the Outdoor Nature Center, but because of its proximity to the playground, the shelter is most often utilized by children as a place of punishment. Sue and I were the only teachers who I actually ever witnessed teaching under the shelter. Regarding the outdoor center, in the five months of my time at the school, only two other teachers used this area outside of Sue‘s team. The school district does have plans to break ground on a new building on the main campus in the next five years, but as of yet, no one knows exactly where the building will be located. The playground includes seven large pieces of playground equipment including swings, a slide, monkey bars, and various tunnels and climbing venues. Each piece is surrounded by a wooden-framed square that is gravel-filled. The fifth and sixth grade children were the only children who used the equipment. Next to the playground, three storage barns in various states of disrepair sit. These barns, at the time of data collection, were used to store extra furniture, garden tools, and machinery for the building. The outdoor nature center boasts approximately seven miles of hardwood- chipped trails with three bridges, a multitude of wooden steps, and an pond observation deck.

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The Classrooms

The Science Classroom

The majority of the five-month observation period was spent observing in Sue's science classroom. The room was filled with storage equipment—a shelf, cabinets, bins, hampers, closets—leaving little room for the student desks. Sue had the student desks in groups of four to six. These small groups were formed for practical, spatial, and pedagogical reasons. Practically, as a science teacher with limited teaching resources, Sue could have the children share the materials. Spatially, by grouping the children‘s desks, she had more room to walk behind and around the desks especially when materials were distributed and/or collected. Pedagogically, the grouping desk arrangement allowed for more cooperation between group members during the inquiry process. For the purposes of my study, the grouping arrangement maximized experiences for student discussion. The students were indirectly encouraged to interact with one another. Being small and filled with much science equipment, the room commanded constant reorganizing. Along the front of the wall was a chalkboard which Sue or the students occasionally used for writing. Instead, it had a myriad of posters affixed to it with magnetic clips, more magnetic clips holding assorted papers, and infrequently, unclaimed or not wanted student artwork. To the right of the chalkboard was an electronic white board—the only one in the fifth grade— that allowed for a computer hookup, the creation of completely digitized images, and the planning of DVD-formatted instructional and entertainment oriented movies. To the right of that, by the entrance door was a small bulletin board where Sue displayed the best work of the children. It was entitled, ―The Best and the Most Brilliant.‖ Along the window side of the classroom, Sue's work area took up considerable space in the corner of the room. This area consisted of her desk, a computer on a stand, and some bookshelves created by her son. The bookcases contained teacher resources, clipboards, and pictures of her friends and family. Along that same wall countertop hosted a plethora of common and hearty houseplants, including; Sanseviera trifasciata, or Snake Plant, Epiprenuum aureus, or Golden Pathos, Codiaeum variegatum, or Croton, and, Beaucarnea recurvata, or Ponytail Palm, and Crassula argentea , Jade Plant. The healthy plants were carefully tended to by Noah, one of Sue's students. In the back corner, a cerulean blue-painted bookcase housed student reading selections from 127

Sue's personal book collection for the students during silent reading time. Along the back wall a row of storage spaces with wall-mounted cabinets hung over waist-high cabinets below with black laboratory countertops. The upper cabinet doors were decorated with laminated posters from agencies including the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, the World Wildlife Fund, and Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens. One poster featured common deciduous leaves of North America while another had endangered species of North America, and the third depicted a diagram of the water cycle replete with cartoon clouds and bodies of water with smiling faces. In the far corner was a metal filing cabinet with many long wooden-handled tools shoved behind it including garden tools, stream nets, and butterfly nets. The last wall boasted more cabinets and three large double- doored storage closets with more posters on the shiny oak doors. The children sat in traditional metal desks with faux wood laminated tops. Like the chairs, the desks looked old—the cracked tops were poked with protractor-made chiseled holes, and the scuffed legs were nicked and worn. The chairs were ultramarine blue with stainless steel legs and feet; each had a permanent marker number on the back. At every moment of my five-month observation period, I witnessed that there were always at least three children in each class who had their backs to the room front, but for the majority of the children, they were faced towards Sue.

The Mathematics Room Rebecca's math room, like Emily's citizenship room, was distinctly unique from Sue's science room. While Sue's room was definitely utilitarian, the other two classrooms, proved to be the antithesis. The mathematics room was quite a beautiful and lovely space. Rebecca's room evoked emotion by being charming, decorated, and ―Country Ornate‖ in a Cracker Barrel kind of way. Rebecca‘s room didn't just begin at her front door entrance, as with most classrooms; it extended into the hallway inviting passersby‘s with the wafting aromatic indulgences of fragrant candles and room fresheners. Depending on the day, the fragrance emanating from her room might be cinnamon strudel, dark chocolate cocoa, vanilla butter cream frosting, or banana cream pie. The classroom walls were stark, clean, and white. The cornflower blue homemade gingham curtains framing the windows enhanced the matching blue Berber carpeting on the floor. The students‘ desks were placed in groups of four to six children per small-group. While the same children's 128

desk arrangement was in Sue's classroom and both classrooms were exactly the same square footage, the lack of cabinets made the room seem much more grand and spacious. Closet cabinetry on the back wall was covered with motivational posters on each door. In the mathematics room, things immediately caught my eye; en extensive basket collection and the small kitchen area. Along with the picture-perfect posters, curtains, candles, and new decorator carpeting, was an extensive basket collection. Rebecca was a designer basket sales representative; therefore every imaginable kind of woven basket with coordinating cloth liner, sat in every available space in the classroom. It is a phenomenon in the Midwest and the Southeast that many women collect baskets from the Longaberger Basket Company near Columbus, Ohio whose building actually looks just like a basket they sell. Longaberger baskets are extremely high-end, ranging from $39 to over $300 for one. Few collectors use the baskets, let alone allow them to be used by school children. Rebecca, being student-centered, was different. She had approximately 25 baskets—all with matching liners holding a variety of school supplies, various wrapped and unwrapped food, and silk flowers—displayed all around her room. The children often carried them to their desks while working on projects. The second striking feature of the room was the kitchen corner Rebecca had created behind her desk. There was no built-in kitchen, but its purpose was clear to even the most unsuspecting onlooker by the variety of kitchen appliances in the space. There was a full-sized refrigerator behind Rebecca's desk. There was also a microwave, a coffee pot, and a hot pot. None of the appliances were ever used for Rebecca's lunch; rather every day, she packed a lunch from a Longaberger canvas tote bag that waited in the teacher planning room refrigerator. The appliances were used for non-lunch snacks, such as during the school day at non-lunch times and especially for use after school. Rebecca also stored drinks and frozen treats in the refrigerator and the freezer for students throughout the week. A nearby long rectangular table covered with the same gingham fabric as the window treatments surrounded by wooden antique chairs was used as a place to eat. Many teachers came by to "grab some snacks" during their break or planning times. There were many days when three or four other adults other than Rebecca, Angie, or Megan were in the room.

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The Citizenship Room Much like Rebecca‘s room, Emily‘s room was clean, bright, and cheery. It was not that way when she first was hired two weeks before the first day of school in August. Emily and her mother spent two entire weeks cleaning the room... mopping floors, walls, washing desks, and dusting bookshelves so it could and would meet Emily‘s standards of what a classroom should look and smell like. Her hard work paid off as the room held in it all of the promise of her budding teaching career. This was the room and that every young teacher dreamed to have. It invited children to relax. The room‘s decorating theme, whether intentional or not, was country American folk history… folksy primitive country. From the wooden hand-carved apples, to the folk art American flags, the three-dimensional tin stars on the back wall—one red, one white, and one blue—and homespun country touches throughout this space, Emily clearly took advantage of combining her interest in current decorating themes and her new teaching career. Like Rebecca, Emily collected Yankee fragrance candles and she had many displayed—all unlit and sealed in labeled apothecary jars—on a rustic red, white, and blue painted bench behind her desk. The children were grouped in three large groupings with eight to ten children in each section. The room lacked carpeting, unlike the other two classrooms, but in the place of carpeting, Emily had purchased oval braided rugs in hues of red and blue which neatly added to the room‘s country charm. Unfortunately, the rugs slid around often becoming a good excuse for many of the boys in the class to go surfing across the slick floor. To the left of the classroom entrance, there sat a large country barn-red carpet, roomy enough to invite the children to sit on and/or lie upon. Sitting in one corner of the rug rested a massive oak rocking chair with a patriotic string quilt draped over one side. The quilt featured the eight point block star design, common to quilt making of the early 19th century in the southeastern United States. Covering the walls were brightly colored and newly laminated bulletin board sets purchased from teacher supply stores. For example, near Emily's desk was a timeline of American inventors, to the left of the entrance was a large set of patriotic symbols including the Statue of Liberty, the Lincoln Memorial, and American currency with prominent portraits of past male leaders. Perhaps the most striking feature of the room was what startled me when I first entered the space. It startled me for good reason. In the far corner to the right

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was a life-size cutout of a smiling George W. Bush wearing a navy suit with a red striped tie. Emily used this figure as a reward. George would visit the table of the students with the best week's attendance.

The Intervention Room The intervention room was stark. Everything about it said isolation. With no windows, the room was rather like a solitary confinement prison cell. A child ―did his or her time‖ so that he or she could get out and go about their business. The room had two adult desks in opposing corners facing towards the center of the room. The students sat in rows isolated from one another. There were no wall decorations and motivational posters as found in the other rooms. There were only the essentials on the walls: directions for emergency exits, school cafeteria lunch menus, and notices of missing assignments with attaching names on magnets, all attached to bulletin boards. There were, however, two small bits of motivational advice in the form of small rectangular magnets. One of the magnets was a magnet of a stoic, expressionless Winston Churchill filled with gravitas, and a quote above his head which read, "Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm." The other magnet featured a picture of an older man looking over the shoulder of a young blond Caucasian girl as she played the violin. Beneath this picture was the caption, "Teaching... it is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy and creative expression and knowledge of the student.‖— Charles M. Dickens.

Day One: So begins the tale...

Day 1… Tuesday, January 16, 2007: Entry into the Field The last students hurried into the building as the final morning bell rang. I sat in my car watching. The buses cleared, siblings attending high school classes were long gone, and all that was left outside the building were two boys raising the American flag, three older girls walking over from the high school next door, and an occasional pickup truck with an encouraging father inside dropping off rushed children not wanting to be marked tardy. Making sure I had everything for the day, I popped open my sedan trunk as I gathered my laptop, packed lunch, and some extra pens. I stood, glancing all around me,

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letting this new experience engulf me. I noticed that across the street from the middle school was a row of ranch-style houses, circa 1970. What were most obvious were not the actual houses, as they all looked almost identical, but the individually unique yards surrounding each home. While some yards were Country Living cover neat, others were crammed with yard ornaments from discount stores, jacked-up rusty cars missing wheels, and Christmas lights still up in mid-January. Like Monopoly pieces on the game board, these houses were lined up neatly and squarely in a single row down the road as far as I could see. The Central Baptist Church sits next to the school. This red brick building with neatly trimmed white-painted shutters seemed overpowered by the church sign out front, which, this week, read, ―IF YOU ARE TOO OPEN-MINDED, YOUR BRAINS WILL FALL OUT." I had never really read church signs before, but as I glanced again at the church‘s overly-used playground equipment covered with scriptural Bible verses in aging, chipped paint, I began seeing things through my new "outsider lens." I was finally here in the field after years of planning, a little wishing, and very much hoping. I finally arrived at my first day of observation.

Even though it was mid-January, sweat began to bead up on my forehead as a cold reminder of my continuous state of nervous anxiousness. I was eager to spend the next five months with the fifth graders in Sue Ponder‘s science classes. I felt like a first- year teacher as I adjusted the required tie around my white oxford-cloth cotton collar. I then walked towards the front door taking in the school building itself. The school's exterior had the well-worn look of decade upon decade of years of service. With severe angles, metal-framed classroom windows, a sand-colored brick frame, and aluminum awnings covering the sidewalk with thin metal poles supporting them, this building would have been impressive and state-of-the-art in the 1960s. It now seemed past its prime like the houses across the street. Tarnished metal letters spelling, "Country Dale Middle School," stuck out from the sandy-colored brick just left of the entrance with numerous abandoned bird nests tucked between many of the letters. Somehow, the school‘s physical degradation did not match the beauty of the natural areas surrounding it. From the road, one would never imagine that spacious meadows, hardwood forests, a pond and stream lie waiting to be explored by eager children. The first time I walked the

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wood-chipped trails, I actually got lost in the winding hills on this property. I was quite eager to take the children outside and I especially looked forward to the stream monitoring unit later that spring. Somehow, the three girls walking over from the direction of the high school were still outside. They were now sitting on an aluminum bench discussing a forgotten biology assignment and a boy named Jake. As I walked up to the front door, I heard their laughter from behind. Turning around to greet them, I smiled and said, ―Hello,‖ only to be rebuffed with no reply. Of the three aluminum-framed doors, I reached for the one to the left only realizing it was locked. Looking as if I was from a strange, far-off place, and shooting me a glance indicating disapproval, the girls walked around me and opened the middle door with an assuredness I wasn't expecting—that I obviously lacked. Funnily enough, I was expecting indifference from middle school students and I immediately braced myself to be a part of it on an on-going basis. These girls reminded me I was from a different place, and it would take much observation to be invited and welcomed to my new surroundings. What I didn't realize then was that this singular confrontation would be the last demonstration of student disrespect I would witness for the following five months to come. Once inside the building and feeling new and nervous, I turned the corner to check in at the front office. With increased security in today's schools, visitors are required to not only check in at the front office, but also to wear some type of identification badge. I quickly realized I wasn't supposed to be in Sue‘s room for another 10 minutes so I was in no hurry to arrive any too soon so I took a little time to look around. The front main hallway interior was what I expected. I saw amazingly clean floors with freshly painted white concrete walls featuring cheery motivational posters, presidential portraits, ads for fund-raising events, and a large three-dimensional royal blue and gold mosaic rocket in the front foyer labeled ―Country Dale Rockets... Flying With Pride!‖ The words were made of blue and gold tile mosaic pieces. Walking past a wall of student yearbook pictures, I stopped to look over the student body. There on the wall were hundreds of smiling faces. Hanging scattered throughout the class pictures were photographs of sporting teams, club photos, and faculty snapshots. After a quick glance, I saw that all the children —without exception—were Caucasian. Certain that I

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overlooked any racial diversity, I scrutinized more carefully only to find that my prior assessment had been correct. To my amazement, every single student and adult in the school was of the same race. How was it that of the over 450 students and staff of 40, there was no racial diversity? How also was it that every district that borders this one has a sizable, obvious, and vital racial minority population, even the districts considered more rural? Why was this district and the school in particular so extremely racially unbalanced? On the surface, it seemed there was no cultural diversity and I began thinking about culture. I wondered if a significant Appalachian presence was obvious in this building as well. These questions would have to be filed in the back of my mind as I vowed to then and there attempt to find answers to them in the following months to come in addition to the other many questions to which I was seeking answers. I had more pressing issues facing me. I had to crack open the culture of this school like a freshly- dyed, hard-boiled Easter egg, and I only had five months to do it. I had to also make sure I was accepted by all the people I encountered in the school, or at least by most, if I was going to collect accurate data. I walked toward the office door and opened it. I walked into the office to be greeted by a cheerfully dressed woman standing behind the counter. With her spiked, flaming auburn hair, teal-colored V-neck sweater, and dramatic gold hoop earrings, this woman was not who I expected to be standing behind the counter of the main office. I certainly didn't expect a rural secretary to be this stylish and friendly. I confess that I had an entirely different vision of how rural women presented themselves. I expected "big country hair,‖ sensible shoes, stretch pants, and a no-nonsense approach to office management where tasks come before people and not vice versa. After all, I spent much time in this county and I was familiar with the practical, down-to-earth, work-oriented attitude of its residents. Whether I was visiting my grandmother's farm just 10 minutes away from the school, participating in 4-H for over a decade at the fairgrounds in nearby Parisburg, or having recently moved to a rural spot in the northeastern part of the county, I had a lifetime of observations of both rural men and women and their practicality. This woman was clearly different. "Oh, Hello. May I help you?" she asked as she smiled at me. "Yes, I'm Terry Scott, and I'm working with Sue Ponder in the fifth grade,‖ I replied. "Well Hello, Terry, I'm Tina." After exchanging a few minutes of pleasantries, I heard a

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familiar voice from Tina's right. "Terry Scott, we are so glad you're here. We've been waiting for you for months. How are you?" These were the words of a tall woman, smartly dressed in a black pantsuit with chestnut brown, shoulder-length hair, and contemporary black-framed glasses. Her vitality and presence matched Tina's enthusiasm in every way as she radiated warmth and a welcoming recognition. As I smiled at her, I wondered to myself how long she would be excited to see me as I've had a precarious past with school administrators. But, for the moment, I appreciated her openness that soothingly calmed my apprehensions as I began telling her how genuinely excited I was to be there. Shelby Williams, the middle-school principal, had welcomed me with the same warmth and enthusiasm every single time I entered the building previously. On my initial visit six months prior, Shelby came to Sue's classroom with an actual welcoming committee to meet me. She brought the school counselor, the district's curriculum director, and the assistant principal. During that initial meeting, I first learned of Shelby's exuberance and gratitude. As she shared with me her wishes and joys for the school, including specifically a greater host of opportunities for the middle-school students in science, I honestly wondered if she didn't expect me to become an agent of change for not only students but the teachers as well. I was hoping that I hadn't misrepresented myself in describing my needs as an observer, researcher, fly-on-the-wall, and science teacher for the fifth graders in my classes. If I hadn't yet, I then felt I would need to make clear my intentions to her and to Sue. After signing in, I headed up the metal-edged staircase to the fifth grade hall. I approached Sue's room but the door was shut and locked. Another door challenge gets the best of me. As I am studying spaces and how they influence people's discourse, I'm realizing on this day that this building was full of obstacles to overcome. The fact that it has two floors with a rattling, overly-loud elevator requiring a key is perhaps, in itself physically challenging enough! ―Could it be that children face the same obstacles on an ongoing daily basis?‖ I wondered. Through the glass pane, Sue was in clear sight reading something to her students, but in the middle of a word, she stopped, looked up to see me, and motioned for me to enter the room. She then realized the door was locked and at the same time, a ruddy-faced Nordic looking boy with shaggy blonde hair ran to the door to

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open it for me. "Hello Mr. Scott," he said with a smile. He swept his hand up to his side and behind him pointing to the back corner as if he was demonstrating a product on the The Price is Right while at the same time saying, "You'll be sitting in the back of the room." ―Who is he, the butler? This kid is polite,‖ I thought. The building itself couldn't be more challenging while ironically, the people in the building couldn't be more welcoming and open. In front of the 21 fifth grade students, stood Sue Ponder. In her 30th year of teaching, (29 years in the same district), Sue was clearly a leader in both the school and in the community. She was the designated fifth grade team leader, and the language arts leader, and also led many school clubs and events. Some events include the yearbook, Science Club, and the after-school science intervention classes for academically at-risk children. Sue didn't see herself as a leader. What she saw was that she was "crazy and overworked," using her own words. Sue soon stopped what she was reading to show me to "my spot" in the room—the back counter area which she had dutifully cleared for me to use. The room was like every other room in the building, but with one major difference. This room had originally been a high school science lab in the 1970s. Changes had been made to make it more accommodating to children, however. Gone were the black countertop lab tables, shelves of microscopes, dissection kits, and human torso. Also gone was the human skeleton, ―Mr. Bones‖ that every high school student knew by name that sat in the back corner. What remained in their places were two walls of cabinets and countertops with antiqued faucets with running water. All of the other classrooms in the school—those on the exterior—had windows, while the interior rooms were windowless. This room had the ideal view of the natural areas. From these second floor windows, the pond, the meadows, and the forest could easily be seen. In my opinion, this view was the highlight of the room. Teachers could either have windows or air conditioning, but not both. When I learned of this tradeoff, I thought it seemed obvious that any teacher would choose to have a room with windows. As I would soon learn, those rooms without windows had their own air conditioning units. This classroom, Room 253, was next to the boy‘s restroom and was not Sue's first choice. Even though the room boasted more cabinet space than any in the building and the vista of the natural

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area, there were multiple downsides to this space. As Sue explained, the trade-off was less room for students, the smell of urine-missed toilets and echoing noise of the boy‘s next-door restroom. This restroom had literally a 24/7 open door policy that required that the two entry doors were always propped open for ease of teacher observation. This policy, compounded by the unbearable heat of both the restroom and Sue's room, made this fifth grade classroom a teaching challenge and a learning nightmare. "Hot and smelly... that's what I have to put up with every single day of the school year. This classroom has a messed-up heating system for some strange reason," Sue said on the first day. "The room‘s temperature can be anywhere from 5°F to 10°F warmer than any other room or hallway in the building. You notice it a little now, so don't ever wear sweaters, but come June, you'll really feel it." With the required gendered dress code of male teachers wearing ties, I was not pleased to hear this advice. There was no time to get settled in as a task was given to me immediately. I put my lunch and briefcase on the countertop in my space. Sue already e-mailed me the request of proctoring the winter-given standardized practice test to be administered all week to every fifth and eighth grade student during this, my first week of observation. No, there was no time to be eased into this cultural setting. Like all other public schools in the state, Country Dale was all about accountability and that realization regarding their accountability began now for me. The "state standards-based test" is given the first week in May to every fifth grader and every eighth grader in all four subject areas. This test didn't count towards the district‘s accountability report card. Nevertheless, I knew as a former fifth grade teacher that even the practice test was high stakes. Sue had described how I would be working with "a student who was unruly and disturbed other children immensely." I happily agreed to help assist in the proctoring of this exam as I wanted to give something back to Sue for allowing me into her life and the lives of her children. I didn't realize that the test would be given as soon as I walked in the door. Sue immediately reminded me that I needed to be briefed on the test itself, and she cautioned that Megan Hamilton, the fifth grade team‘s intervention specialist or "special educator," would soon be over to give me the details of the test. Like clockwork, as soon as I turned around, Mrs. Hamilton stood before me with a pile of papers attached to an old clipboard. I immediately saw that Megan was a planner. Plans led to goals and

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goals, when achieved, became mastery realized. In her late 20s, Megan walked, spoke, and moved with purpose, not often seen in a woman this age. With carefully planned clothing as well, Megan was dressed more professionally than any other teacher I'd seen so far. That day, she was wearing a perfectly fitting amethyst-colored cashmere and cotton sweater set, gray wool trousers, black leather flat-heeled shoes, and tastefully understated silver jewelry. I imagined, and was correct, that Megan liked to have things "just so." "Now Mr. Scott, I need you to meet Paul who you'll be working with today. We need to hurry as the test starts promptly in 10 minutes, and I've got another proctor examiner to find. Let's go." She smiled sensing my surprise. Although Megan and I would eventually grow to deeply appreciate one another, that time had not yet come. She frankly scared me now. As we walked toward Paul's room, I passed many fifth grade teachers escorting children to take restroom breaks, encouraging certain children to try their best, making sure locker doors were shut, and picking up trash so it was not cluttering hallway floors. There was a sense of nervous expectation in the air. Something big was about to happen and I would soon realize exactly how big it would be. I expected Paul to be many things... angry, indifferent, non-motivated, and maybe a little unkempt. Standing in the hall by his classroom door, apparently waiting for me, was a neatly-dressed boy with a toothy grin, short brown military-style hair, a yellow polo shirt with an upturned collar, black-framed Ray-Ban vintage style glasses, red Keds high-top gym shoes, and cuffed jeans. For a moment, I thought the year must have been 1963 until he smiled and said, "Hi ya, dude!" Paul did not match the teacher described images of him in any way, shape, or form. He wasn't "horrible, a handful, self-centered, manipulative"; or at least not yet. Megan had given him a Ziploc bag of manipulatives including a calculator, a ruler, a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a foam pumpkin which was placed in the bag for ―relieving stress,‖ if Paul in fact experienced stress. I was thinking to myself that I would need the foam pumpkin as I was expecting the biggest part of stress to be working with him as we sat at a table in the hall. As I began reading the teacher test booklet directions aloud to Paul, Rebecca Ringwald, Paul‘s homeroom teacher, stepped out from her classroom into the hall to wish Paul words of encouragement. With a round face, carefully tweezed eyebrows, short styled brunette

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hair, and a petite frame, Rebecca spoke slowly and patiently to Paul. "Now Paul, honey, make sure you try your hardest. You know what this test means to us." As Megan had instructed, I was to read all directions first to Paul as he read silently with me. We then reviewed the questions from each reading segment. I was strictly instructed not to "help too much," but I could ask questions freely as opposed to giving answers or reading vocabulary words to Paul. As Paul began to test, I honestly was waiting for him become stressed at the first sign of frustration, as he might erupt into the cartoon version of the Tasmanian Devil and spin in circles all over the hall out of anger. This eruption never occurred. Ten minutes into the testing process, a woman calmly approached Paul by hovering over him as he wrote. As Paul looked up, she looked down and quietly said, "Be sure to listen to Mr. Scott, and by any means, do not act up at all." As she said these words she gave me a wink. This intervention assistance, Angie Small, was a neatly dressed woman in her mid-40s. Angie had bright green eyes, and like Megan, a determined demeanor. As she was leaving Paul and me, she turned to Paul and said, "Paul, you need to do really well on this test so you can move on the sixth grade next year. Think how embarrassing it would be for you to do poorly on this test and risk the possibility of being retained. Neither of us wants that to happen, right, Mr. Scott?" She then winked at me again. Angie walked slowly away. Paul looked overwhelmed as he rolled his eyes as his cheeks flushed. "I think she hates me. No, I know she hates me," Paul mumbled as he began writing again. I reassured him by telling him I‘m sure that wasn‘t the case. She was smiling, after all, during the entire exchange. At this moment, I realized how challenging this study would become as I was not only making sense of what the children said and wrote, but I was also responsible for conveying their intended meaning. Before long, as he was quick to regain his enthusiasm and positive attitude, Paul proceeded testing without missing a beat. Sitting with him that morning, I quickly realized that Paul was rather fun. I enjoyed talking to him as he was quite funny and somewhat entertaining. As we took the reading test, he would often stop to interject comments about the story topics. For instance, during a story about wild horses living on the East Coast of the United States, Paul told me he has wild horses on his property.

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―Swear to God. I have these horses... the last time I saw them was about two years ago. They were left there by people who lived at the house before we did and they never told us about them. When I saw them, they weren't like regular horses that were well groomed and pretty…uh uh. They had long, matted, gross fur… it looks kind of like the fur on a woolly mammoth, but not so long. This kid who lives down the street, Jason, said that he's been able to lasso them, but I think he's lying. We put out straw and sometimes when we‘d put out grain in the winter and it‘d always be gone by the time we put out more, so we know the horses are eating the food. They've got to eat something, after all." (Paul, taped conversation, Jan. 15, 2007.)

A struggling reader, Paul carefully sounded out each word phonetically. Incredible became incapable, special became spatial, wavering became wavy, and porpoise became purpose. As Paul read aloud, I began to hear what I imagined was his rurality emerging through his language. While I will elaborate more on this emergence during the analysis chapter, it quickly became apparent to me that his culture was clearly articulated in this language. For example, his stories were peppered with "y'all," "ain't," and "don't" instead of "doesn't," as in ―He don't care about that." I eagerly asked Paul where he lived, and he told me that he grew up in Parisburg, the town five minutes from the school. Paul has a last name that is the same name of the largest fuel company in the county, so I asked if he was related to those folks. He said yes, and then he proceeded to inform me that he was the fourth generation to have the name Paul Evans. Paul also told me that his grandfather was on the school board when the building we were sitting in was built in 1969. Paul's family roots were deep in that area, however as I would discover, not as deep as some. As the two-and- a-half hour test concluded, and as I had talked with Paul about our testing together and the schedule for the rest of the week, we walked towards Mrs. Hamilton's room to give her the testing materials. The door was closed, as were all the other doors, so I carefully opened her door to ask her where Paul should go. Looking up from assisting a child, Angie whispered that the time relegated for testing was five minutes longer, but that she and Megan would still take him anyway. This room was their shared room and it was the "pull out" classroom for this half of the fifth grade team‘s intervention students. It was an interior room. With few wall decorations, brown chalkboards, gray carpet, beige walls, desks in rows, and of course, no windows, this room was quite different in form and function from the other classrooms. But as Megan

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Hamilton pointed out, "…it needs to be different because these children are different." The room certainly was different, different indeed. Already physically and mentally tired from the intensity of testing, I returned as soon as we were done to the science room as that class was lining up for lunch. Due to the school‘s small cafeteria, every grade at separate times and lunch and recess for fifth grade was from 10:30 a.m. until 11:00 a.m. The children were chatting in line as they stood and waited for Sue to lead them to the cafeteria. As the children talked, and Sue checked her e-mail while sitting at her computer, the other fifth grade classes passed the room. I would soon learn that this lack of eagerness to go to lunch on Sue's part would cause of this class to be the last fifth grade class to lunch every single day. Fortunately, the delay did allow me to hear the children talk more as they waited to be led to lunch. As girls talked through whispers with cupped hands to their listener‘s ears, the boys discussed things more freely and openly as they talked with one another. On this day, two girls filled with animation and exaggerated dramatics had the following exchange on the way to the cafeteria: Lulu: Well, honey, I cannot believe you aren't wearing pink today! Alicia: Sugar, all my pink was dirty, oh so dirty. Lulu: (in a stereotypically southern accent) But Sweetie Pie… you must get it clean, Sugar Baby! Alicia: I can't get it clean because as hard as I try, I'm just a dirty girl. Lulu: I'll say!

The teachers ate in the faculty planning room, a former classroom with three large circular tables, an Ellison paper-cutting machine with two wall shelves of wooden cutting blocks, filing cabinets, a professional library of teacher resources, and a chalkboard. On this chalkboard, Shelby Williams motivates and "stimulates" the faculty with a weekly question to answer. Each teacher in the school, including me, had an assigned colored magnet with his or her last name written in black Sharpie marker. The magnets were color coded by grade level and placed together. As a teacher saw a newly posted question for the week, he or she knew to move the magnet to one of five choice answers provided as answer options. Shelby had just created this motivational board over the winter break,

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so this question and answer system was rather new to everyone, not just me. On the chalkboard with perfectly written Zaner-Bloser handwriting, was this week's question which read, "What do you think motivates students the most?" The choices Shelby had provided were: parents, tangible rewards, events as rewards, the teacher, or grades.

Everyone noticed the question as soon as they came in and began thinking about how they would respond. The teachers in Sue's team—Sue, Megan, Rebecca, Angie the teaching assistant, and Emily Rowe, the social studies teacher, all sat at one table every single day of the five months of my observation. The teachers from the other team of fifth grade classes sat and ate in awkward silence daily with me. There was never mixing of teammates at tables. I chose to sit with the other teachers because there was no room at the other table and frankly, everyone on the team with whom I work on a daily basis is extremely extroverted. Because one table was always so reserved and quiet in their talk and the other table was so loud and boisterous in their discussions, this allowed me the opportunity to hear what my teaching colleagues were discussing and how they discussed it. Emily Rowe, a first-year teacher, was usually the most vocal person at the table. A tall woman in her early 20s, with highlighted blond hair framing her face, tan complexion, and always wearing brightly colored "preppy" clothing, on this day, a pink turtleneck sweater and Kelly green pleated-waste chino slacks, Emily was clearly used to being entertaining. She and the others discussed the question choices with the freedom of laughing with friends at a nightclub, along with the colorful language which often accompanies that relaxed environment and such talk. Emily: Well, things…stuff motivates me, so I think kids get motivated by crap also. Megan: That ―crap‖ has no place in schools, Dufus, especially for a lot of kids who can't afford those things. Rebecca: Here we go! (rolling her eyes at the other teachers at the table) Emily: (looking shocked for only a moment) Speaking of crap, what is that you're eating, today, Dufus? The reason I included this reference to the teachers‘ lounge, even though I'm not researching the teachers per se, is because I think it eloquently demonstrates how space

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influences the discourse of people in those spaces. The teachers realized that this room was a safe place for them to talk freely; no one would judge them. Moreover, the act of talking as a group reinforced the nature in which they socially deconstructed the events of the day. Some might call this gossip, but I call it social constructivism. After lunch, as the teachers had to do the testing schedule in the morning, the children had an abbreviated schedule. "This isn't a typical day, at all, Terry,‖ Sue would repeat apologetically. "We'll be switching classes for just 30 minutes each today, just long enough for the kids to get a break from practice testing. Sue was in her 30th year of teaching and didn't look a day past 40. With deep-set brown eyes, brown hair that accentuated her narrow face, olive skin, and a constant smile, Sue was dedicated to the school. Living just a few miles away, both of her two children had recently graduated from the district's high school. She talked frequently about her children, showing her dedication to her family as well as to the school. Her husband, Ted, tried increasingly to influence her by suggesting she not be so involved in school and in educationally-related activities. Sue was not fazed as she felt the school and the school children were her calling. A self-described "nature girl," everything about Sue involved being out-of-doors. From her practical footwear and comfortable clothing, to the plants she brought into her classroom, to the poster of Jane Goodall behind her desk, it was apparent that Sue loved being outside. Sue especially loved being near water as she grew up "playing in creeks when I was a kid.‖ When she retires from teaching in a few years at the 35-year mark, she plans to find a second career where she can spend time outside with children. Sue had distinct attitudes regarding student success and these attitudes centered on each child being the driving force of that success. According to Sue, she has been given few breaks in life, and her parenting with her own children reflects such a rugged individualistic philosophy. Sue's "bootstrap" mentality was reflected in everything she did and said, as well. This "pick yourself up and move on" philosophy of thinking was seen especially in her pedagogical framework for teaching and classroom instruction. Sue had little tolerance for children who did not try hard in reaching their goals, and children who had not identified their own goals frustrated her even more. She had less tolerance for children and their parents who expected things to be handed to them "on a silver platter." For instance, as we were on recess duty one sunny afternoon, I was watching

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Dave swinging on a swing set. Dave was one of Sue's fifth grade science students, he was in Sue‘s environmental science club, and he had always been enthralled with animals. Additionally, Dave was a student who had a full-time teaching assistant, Angie Small. Dave's mother was an elementary school intervention specialist in the district and his father was a commercial pilot. To me, I had decided that Dave was a child whose parents valued education, and could clearly afford a college education for his brothers and him. Dave, however, had some learning and life challenges. When I asked Sue if she envisioned Dave going to college, she replied by saying, "I certainly hope not. College is not for everyone. I'm tired of these children and their parents thinking and assuming that they should get a college education. The world needs all kinds of people, not just people who graduated from college." Sue grew up and attended public school in a somewhat rural part of the county. Loving the out-of-doors so much, her first years of teaching were spent in western Kentucky in an economically depressed rural school in a remote part of the Appalachian Mountains. Sue contends that the only way that "those folks" can rise up out of their poverty is by pulling themselves up, not relying on the handouts of other people. "I'm tough on my own kids, and I'm tough on all those kids who I have taught over all of these years. Nobody handed me anything, and I in turn, don't give handouts freely either.‖ After lunch we returned to the classroom. I sat in the back of the room, waiting for the first science class to begin, as I was once again observing, taking notes, and soaking in as much as possible. Knowing that I needed eventually to focus on the children of Appalachian descent, I was free now just to take things in and focus on all of the children. I was amazed at how much I witnessed with the singular goal of observing the cultural day-to-day happenings of the classroom. As the children lined up to switch for their classes with the other two teachers, one child, a full-faced girl, whose highlighted platinum blonde strips on her natural brunette hair was as striking as her next comment to me, noticed me as I sat watching. As she looked me squarely in the eyes, she commanded, "Hey you... what you looking at? Look at somebody else." Continuing to look at me, and realizing I must be perplexed from such a statement, she immediately added, with a laugh, "I'm just kidding, man, lighten up." I asked the girl her name. "Dawn," she replied reluctantly, as if she realized she may be in trouble for the previous

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remark. The children then walked away hurriedly to get to their first period class. Dawn wiped her brow dramatically, as if to escape her uncertain fate. As the first science class arrived in the room, Sue told me how the science classes were strictly divided by student ability. The first period class was a middle ability group. It contained average readers with students of average math ability. The second class was also ability grouped "for the convenience of the intervention special education teachers.‖ Each child in that class was either on an individually guided educational plan, an ―i.e.p.‖, on a ―504,‖ an educational plan specifically designed for children with attention deficit hyperactive disorder, or a child could be on the verge of being identified for either educational plan. Sue's homeroom had two types of learners in it. These learners were either children who have been identified as gifted or children who all are academically low, but not low enough to be identified for any special program. The first-period children came into the science room and sat quietly waiting for directions. As Sue began to review the previously discussed concepts on heat, insulators, and conductors, the class seemed reluctant to talk. I wondered if I intimidated them. How can I listen to children's discourse when there was seemingly little to no discourse in any way, shape, or form? A child sitting near me, a brunette girl named Ruth, didn't say anything that entire 30-minute period. Ruth was a petite but physically mature looking child with black hair as dark as obsidian rock, a flushed complexion, and hair that was partitioned into braids on the side of her head. When the children were put into small groups to determine how best to create an insulated cup which would be holding a cold beverage, Ruth remained silent. She wrote many notes but not a single word passed through her lips. As she completed her graph representing temperature change over time, Ruth's work was neatly reported, well-thought-out with an accurately-articulated prediction of what she expected would happen to the temperature of the liquid. Still, she spoke not a single word. She nodded when Sue asked her questions and Ruth was eventually asked questions by some of her teammates. Everyone except me seemed to be in on the secret. She was never asked to elaborate on any answer she gave as a nod in either direction would suffice for everyone in the room, including her teammates. Interestingly, Ruth wasn't the only silent child in the room that day, but I observed her the most perhaps because she was the closest to me. The end of this abbreviated science class

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was now drawing near as Sue announced that the groups would be carrying out their investigations the next day and they could go to their next class, period two. As soon as those children left the room, the second-period class started filtering into the room. Two boys ran to their assigned desks, as if starting science was a race of life, to determine who could be first. Girls, on the other hand, silently walked to their seats without a single smiling face. Paul was whispering to another boy close to him in hushed tones, a boy who weighed easily what I weigh but who was five to seven inches shorter than me. He had a round face with a pleasant expression, and almost mischievous blue eyes. The boy‘s name was Nate and he shared with Paul and with me when he realized I was listening in on the conversation, that his ―Papaw‖ caught a skunk in a live trap and he had plans to keep it as a pet after it was de-scented. He told the story as if he was a pastor testifying in front of a congregation. ―As God is my witness, the skunk was just walking across our yard by the pond. It was a Sunday afternoon, and my Papaw and me just come back from fishin‘, and we were putting fishing poles into the barn, and just as we came out to get the fish we caught in a cooler with ice, a little skunk was sniffing all around the fish in the cooler. My Papaw ran and got his live trap, the one that he uses for raccoons, and put it near the barn. He threw in a catfish for extra measure. Within the hour, that little skunk smelled the fish, walked into the trap, and the door slammed shut."

Paul was enthralled with the story, and despite his best efforts, was unable to interrupt Nate by asking for added details during his oration. This class seemed quite different from the first class and the presence of Megan Hamilton and Angie Small influenced the children's interactions with each other and with Sue. While Megan was the more directive leader of the two, both she and Angie vastly altered the class‘s dynamics, I noticed. Ordering certain children to keep on task with the precision of a drill sergeant, these women, through snapping fingers and directed commands at most of the boys and some of the girls ordered the children about throughout the lesson through sharp and nonstop questioning. ―Where is your pencil... in the homeroom?" asked Angie. "We‘re on number four, not number three, please keep up," said Megan. She continued, "We're predicting the temperature, not the time as the time—―is given," finished Angie. I'm sure the sentence-finishing between the two happened frequently as these women spent every day, all day together helping students

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with work, and if Megan and Angie's role was to keep students on task, then they certainly met that goal. Even on that first day of this class, I noticed that this class was quite different from any other that entered this room. This group of children had several students, all boys including Paul, who spoke out freely during the science class. These four or five boys dominated all group activities, entire class discussions, and generally made things more challenging for Sue to teach in the brief 30 minutes that she was allotted. All of these boys—without exception—were academically identified children on individual educational plans. Seemingly, and perhaps not in direct correlation with that identification, they felt quite free to shout out a question or that they were confused to one of the three women in the room. For instance, during Sue's explanation of creating the graph showing predicted change in temperature over time that the cold beverage stayed in the insulated cup, three boys physically got into a disagreement. Petey, a slight boy with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes, Berdy, a tall boy with thick brown curly hair, glasses, and many freckles, and Keith, a redheaded small child with vividly green eyes and a devilish grin, erupted into an argument over who would attach the insulation to the cup. As the discussion quickly escalated, Keith literally wadded up the foil, stood up behind his chair, threw the aluminum foil to the floor, and stepped on it while announcing, "Now, since you guys are such babies, no one will attach the aluminum foil to the can." Every child's mouth gaped open. After only a fraction of a moment of stunned silence, and as a result, Megan‘s solution to fixing this problem was to address the issue head on by telling Keith that he had just lost recess for the week, and if he ―didn't shape up, he‘d be shipped out to the office and then home." Following that remark, Angie addressed Berdy, one of the other boys who had gotten out of his seat to retrieve the tinfoil. He was attempting to flatten it out like pie dough with his hand on his desktop. Angie added, "And you, Mr., will be in as much trouble if you don't learn to share better.‖ Sue and the children seemed unfazed at these reprimands. I, on the other hand, was a little more than disturbed, but like the others in the room had previously done, I sensed I'd get conditioned to it over time with enough exposure. In the last five minutes during class, a girl named Prudence, with straight brown hair and large brown, sad eyes, was intently writing on a piece of torn notebook paper. The writing was not that kind of writing that occurs in science class with fifth graders. At

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this age, children see assigned science writing as a task or a chore to either be accomplished so they can move on to something else more exciting, to be put off until the last minute, or something so horrific, boring, or insignificant, that it should be avoided altogether. Prudence, on the other hand, wrote somewhat frenzied and passionately as I imagined the writing styles of Virginia Woolf or Sylvia Plath. She thoughtfully and dramatically turned her head from side to side, as if this particular message was the last she'd ever be writing to the receiver. Eager to catch a glimpse of such an important piece of paper, I casually stood from my chair hoping to be unnoticed. Unfortunately, as this was the first time I was ever up walking around the room with this class, many students looked my way. Prudence continued to write with fervor. Pretending as if I was checking over student work, I carefully glanced over her shoulder certain that that writing had nothing to do with science. I was right. She was writing a letter to a boy named Benjamin, where in this letter, she, "hope(s )we can remain boyfriend and girlfriend until after high school graduation so we can leave this unbearable place in this shitty school." Just as Sue announced that the class should line up, Prudence carefully and discreetly folded the letter into a previously decorated envelope, with a purple shimmery heart sticker sealing the flap and handed it to a classmate who seemed less than excited to get it. This boy, Benjamin, the recent recipient of a home performed buzzed Mohawk-styled haircut, casually threw it on top of his books onto his left hand with an effortless and casual motion which suggested he'd gotten many of these notes in the past. Prudence immediately told Benjamin not to read it until lunchtime when he was alone. Benjamin smiled and said, "Sure thing." The children happily walked out of the room. The homeroom children sat in their seats. Noah, a boy with a skater boy haircut— long brown hair with long bangs—sullenly sat down slamming his books on his table. I first met Noah when I briefly observed Sue‘s students in September. On that day, I noticed this unusually deep-pitched spoken boy with sharp, defined physical features. He was talkative and went out of his way to ask me questions about my purpose being in the room. He was rather welcoming. I was then impressed with his ability to carry on a conversation with an adult and his lack of reservation in wanting to find out about me. On this day, I determined that Noah was a bright and capable class leader due to his willingness to help Sue with classroom tasks, his friendliness to other students, and at the

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apparent speed in which he was obviously able to complete his seat work. I was quite wrong, or shall I now say, my lenses had since been corrected. Noah and Sue often butted heads. Even though this was the first day of observation, and it was just passed 1 p.m., Sue had told me in detail about Noah. "He's been diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder or Conduct Behavior, one of the two, but I don't buy all those labels. If you ask me, he just needs some strong discipline at home." Sue shared with me that she had literally gotten into yelling matches with him throughout the year. When he "threw a fit," she did the same, in turn. When he got loud, she got louder. When he slammed books, she slammed doors. Mostly, however, Sue ignored Noah. He freely walked around the room, got onto the computer without permission, visited friends, and sat and stared at other children. Sue would later admit to me that she was entirely aware of his behavior at all times, but she felt she was doing the best she could do to cope with the situation. Today Noah seemed angry about something, but as I would later realize, he was angry often. As Sue began the same lesson on graphing, my attention was drawn to a girl named Amber in the far corner of the room. Like Prudence, she was physically sitting at a desk in the science class, but her mind was elsewhere. Although I hadn't remembered Sue giving anyone directions to color or do anything with thick Crayola washable markers, however Amber had six or seven of them out of her desk and was using them feverishly to color a picture. From that moment on, I persistently continued to glance at her as I scanned the room for anyone's acknowledgment or reaction to what she was doing. Everyone, including Sue, seemed to be unaware that Amber was totally unfocused on the graphing assignment. She wore a tight purple T-shirt with golden sparkly letters that said, "Mama Ain't Raisin‘ No fool!‖ with the word ―Raisin‖ on a large, sparkly raisin. Her hair was dirty blonde and throughout the course of the day, Amber changed her hairstyle four times finally resorting to pulling it back severely in a single ponytail off to the side of her head. Again, no one seemed concerned with her or her behavior. For the most part, the children worked quickly and efficiently at the graphing assignment. Compared to the other two classes, this class by far spoke much more often and much more freely during the science lesson. Again, there were children who said absolutely nothing during the 30 minutes of science class. On the other hand, there were

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children who spoke to neighbors, through whispers mostly, seemingly unaware that they may be disturbing others near them. Of the three classes, on this day, there were less group managerial problems. This may have been due to the fact that Sue had higher expectations for this class, as she would often tell them. "Now you're the class who gets things done the quickest and at the same time, you seem to grasp concepts much faster than the two other classes." These children should have grasped concepts faster as half of the class had been identified as being "gifted." Being "gifted" would prove to present unique challenges for this group of children. After the science class, the last 35 minutes of the school day was comprised of silent reading. Previously, each child had been directed to read anything quietly for that amount of time. Children were not allowed to get up out of their seats unless they were taking a reading comprehension test on one of the two computers in the classroom for student use. If they were working on the computer, they knew to ask for permission before logging on. Each child began reading something silently—a library book, newspaper, magazine or even comic book. Amber and her best friend Dawn immediately occupied both computers next to me. Perched on stools, the girls seemed to be taking a test. A tall and quiet girl in the class, Fergie, in the middle of reading a book maturely and calmly looked at me and said, "Mr. Scott, those girls are playing games online." I wasn't exactly sure why she was telling me and I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to be doing about it. By the time I had gotten up out of my chair, the girls started to redirect what they were doing online. Fergie coolly said to me, "Well, they were playing games, I swear." Tall was an understatement in describing Fergie. This child, who was just 11 years old, was four to 5 inches taller than me putting her in the 5‘10‖ or 5'11" height range. With this combination of extreme height, her individual sense of perfectionism, and her calm and quiet nature, Fergie seemed three to four years more mature than her classmates. I would later learn that Fergie had to be mature, as her home life demanded much of her. Fergie's mother is in the Florida State Penitentiary serving time for an unknown crime. Over Christmas break, Fergie, her father, and her siblings went to Florida to get her mother's new baby. The baby, Olivia, was born addicted to crack cocaine. Fergie's father had to go to work and leave the house by 4 a.m. every

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morning, so she awoke and watched her sleeping siblings and the new baby until she left for school with those siblings and the baby went to an aunt. Indeed, this home life would cause a child to mature early. Fergie continued to read as the girls on the computers played games again and chatted with each other about boys in the room. I heard Dawn say to Amber, "He looks kind of like my mom's boyfriend, and I can't help it, and maybe I shouldn't say this out loud, but I think my mom's boyfriend is totally hot!" Some things are better left unsaid. Sue calmly told the children to stop reading, put away their books, and come back to their seats. She gave the class a few reminders for the next school day; return a permission slip for the book fair; bring found insulation materials for the Thermos project; and, "for heaven's sake... wear a coat tomorrow as it is January after all!‖ I was thinking that Sue and I might be able to debrief after this first day, but like most nights after school, Sue had a meeting or professional obligation of some kind. Sue came back to me, and said, "Well you made it throughout your first day. Do you want to come back?" as she laughed out loud. In that same conversation Sue warned me that if I didn't leave soon before the buses left, I would have to sit and wait another 20 minutes, so quite abruptly, I gathered my things and walked briskly out of the building. After putting my lunch bag and laptop computer in the trunk of my Chevy Malibu, I slid the key into the ignition. Pausing, I looked up at the children boarding the buses and I decided, at least on this first day, to observe the quiet that happens at the school day‘s close after the children left the building. The buses slowly started pulling away in just a few minutes. I was sitting two minutes later with my car running on this frosty yet dreary January afternoon when I noticed a pair of Canada Geese walking to the building from the pond. These geese live at the margin of the nature center‘s lake. Canada Geese often migrate during the autumn season, but these did not. They have learned when to interact with the children as they usually watched, waited, and interacted with the children only when the children wanted to befriend them. They have learned to be untrusting of people as, more often than not; children here throw objects at them—stones, cans, baseballs, backpacks. The children were not reprimanded by teachers as the teachers assert the children are ―just being kids.‖ One goose walked with a hobble to the sidewalk in front of the middle school building where the custodian had sprinkled birdseed. I then saw the

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second goose had an injured wing. Her wing was sticking almost straight out and not neatly tucked to her side. These geese seemingly knew that when people left the building, it was time to eat. In seeing the geese, I was reminded of the vast nature center and outdoor natural area behind the building waiting to be explored. I realized the geese and the children shared similarities. The children in the school were eager to come to this building and then conversely, they were equally eager to go. So too were the animals that permanently lived on the school‘s property. Each group had their routine and used the school‘s natural area in unique ways. The children and the geese were both forced to interact on this space. The geese primarily lived outside as the children lived inside. I wondered what kind of sense making were they experiencing as they softly honked to one another? Unlike the children, however, these geese were unable to leave and go anywhere, and they certainly were unable to go into any building and seek shelter. Would the communications of the geese change if they were inside? Will the children‘s discourse change when they go outside? Like the Appalachian children in the school who were referred to as ―hillbillies, white trash, trailer trash, and street walkers‖ (all actual names used by teachers at Country Dale Middle School in referring to the Appalachian children), how have these geese negotiated life in an often hostile and unwelcoming world? Which group is more injured: the geese or the children?

Day Two, Tuesday, March 27, 2007: Becoming a Cultural Detective

As I arrived at school, I was excited about the possibilities that lie ahead and await me as the day just begins to unfold. I got a brief glimpse of the student‘s culture for the first time yesterday. As I sat in the back of Sue's room during the afternoon, I was coding data on my laptop while she discussed a short story the children had just read in preparation for "THE TEST." The story focused on a boy who lived in Ohio and traveled to his grandparent‘s home every summer to visit. Without any prior warning, but armed with the knowledge that I needed to somehow determine the cultural heritage of these children from the three fifth grade classes, Sue began a conversation—seemingly out of the blue—about where the children visit when they visit relatives during the summer months of vacation. I immediately began taking field notes about this conversation. It became so informative that I asked Rebecca, and Emily to have that same conversation

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with their homeroom children. Sue agreed to repeat much of the conversation another day with her students to allow all children an opportunity to talk. Today was the day that those conversations were occurring. My biggest worry was that none of these children would have an Appalachian heritage, and that my brother would be right in his assertion that there were few people in the county who share our Appalachian cultural heritage. Today was also science club and we were hoping to go outside for the first time this year! It would prove to be an important day in not only determining the culture of the fifth graders, but how children respond to science in an outside semi-structured educational setting. After putting my black nylon lunch bag back in the staff workroom refrigerator, I walked past the office up to Sue‘s room. When I came to Sue's room, it was locked. Sue soon arrived. The children also arrived with the usual behavior demonstrated by some of the boys simply being themselves. Freddie and Batista ran with sudden bursts of energy to each of their respective desks so as to determine who could be the first and the best in the class that morning. To have such enthusiasm for one's morning and day was delightful to see. This had become a daily ritual. As I began setting up my desk—finding a stool to be used as a desk and plugging in all the connections for my laptop—I overheard two girls discussing the recent local suicide of an elementary principal jumping to her death from Ohio's tallest bridge. The girls actually used the words ―tragic loss‖ as they tried to out-detail one another about the events of the tragedy. Twenty minutes later, as we got ready to switch classes, a boy named Carson approached me with a concerned look on his face. With deep-set blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and a full round face, Carson asked, "Is it true, Mr. Scott, that Ms. Humphrey jumped off a bridge and killed herself?" Realizing Carson had just moved here from the building where this woman was principal, a million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to find the correct response to his question. Coming up short, I finally just said, "You didn't know that, Carson?‖ It had, after all, been more than five days since that event occurred. Much like other local public school scandals, it was splashed all over the media. I realized that instead of trying to sounds empathetic and understanding to Carson, I may have sounded condescending. "No," he said as tears immediately began welling up in his eyes. "I can't believe she would do that... she was always so happy." I watched Carson's face as Sue hurried him

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out of the room unknowing of his question. Later that morning, I made sure to share this conversation with Sue. I also told the school counselor, Mrs. Felger. I noted in my reflexive journal that night how much the outside world influences these children and their discourse. There is no acknowledgement of that in ―THE TEST.‖

Further into the morning, I was scheduled to listen to Emily Rowe lead the class discussion on family visits during summer vacation. As I walked into her room, Emily announced, "Students, I need you to put down your pencils from writing. I want to ask you a question after I tell you a problem I'm having. All this cold winter weather is making me think of summer already, and summer makes me think of being outside, traveling, and family. Here's my problem... I've only got so much time to spend traveling this summer and I want to see all of my relatives in different states. Who should I go see and why? But before we problem-solve my situation, I want to hear about your traveling plans of visiting relatives. I do not want to hear about vacations, I want to know when you visit relatives, where do you go and to what states do you visit?" ―Great job, Emily,‖ I whispered quietly with no intention of getting a response. Petey turned around to me and laughed. As the dye had been cast, I waited in eager anticipation ready to take notes. Even though we had discussed this activity in detail, the actual lesson delivery was entirely up to the teacher. I also had no idea how the children might respond. The first child who put his hand in the air was Bill, who shared that he went to Kings Island and many annual family reunions in Dayton, Ohio. Jerry next announced that he stayed in Ohio; Raven shared that she visited her grandparents in Florida and nearby in the next county when they lived here in the spring, fall, and the summer. So far, nobody's from Appalachia, I worried. Lucky announced that his family all lived in Michigan, Keith shared that he often drove to Kentucky to visit his relatives. His grandmother, her new husband, his aunts and uncles all lived there. "Where is it that they are?", Emily asked dutifully. "I forget exactly where, I know it's somewhere near Chattanooga, Tennessee." Miss Rowe and I simultaneously looked at each other and smiled. May volunteered that she seldom left the county and most of her relatives were from the area as well. She then shared that her great, great, great uncle was one of the first settlers in the county. I was thinking she

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was either confused or deceiving us, but later I would come to know a man with her exact last name, who was also a founding family in the county and an uncommon name outside the county. Petey confided that his grandparents lived in Greenup County, Kentucky and he visited them often, even throughout the school year. Petey‘s attendance was problematic on Fridays and often on Mondays, I would later learn. Jon visited his relatives in Belize, Central America. McKenzie visited relatives in Arkansas and Ruth often went back to Jackson County, Kentucky. Ruth lived there until she was three with her parents, but now her grandparents have custody of her and she resides right outside of Parisburg. Kelsey had some vague and somewhat confused knowledge that she had some grandparents who live in Key Largo, Florida and, with less confusion and more clarity she announced that she had some relatives who lived in Owsley County, Kentucky on the eastern side of the state. Mandy, while sharing that her family‘s lake cottage was in Tennessee, described the building as being new and that she had no previous family who lived there. She did visit these relatives in Arkansas in the Ozark Mountains where they have lived their entire lives. If I was studying indigenous mountain culture, Mandy would have qualified to be a study participant; however, a cultural definition strictly is limited geographically to the Appalachian Mountains. Kitty visited eastern Tennessee, the home of her grandparents, and Prudence visited Huntington West Virginia often, where her father's parents grew up and currently live. As this was the first class for me to have observed this vacation family discussion, I was not sure how the other classes might stack up in comparison culturally. I was, sure of one thing. Resolving years of long-standing debates with my family and friends, there was and is a strong Appalachian presence in the county and specifically within the population of the school district. I could rest assured that was true. When the time came for Rebecca Ringwald's discussion, she transformed her query into the mathematics of data collecting experience so as to maximize instructional time. She created a frequency chart on the chalkboard and discussed what states were most visited during summer trips to her own relatives using herself as an example for the children's before they discussed their trips. She also added that her relatives on both sides of her family live and have long lived in eastern Kentucky. She talked at length about

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visiting them in the counties of Letcher, Knott, and Perry—all three being Appalachian counties—but she did not point this out or even use the word, "Appalachian." Nate began the class discussion as Rebecca, systematically encircling each table clockwise, methodically called on children. He mentioned that every summer he attended a family reunion in Monroe County, Kentucky. One of the highlights each year was the time spent wading in creeks during this event with his uncles and cousins. Next up was Jen, who visited relatives in eastern South Carolina. While there are a few counties in South Carolina that have been determined to be Appalachian, eastern South Carolina is not near the Appalachian mountain range, so for the purpose of the study, Jen would not be considered an Appalachian descendent. Benjamin visited relatives in West Virginia; and Aaron visited family there as well, but also in Georgia and the Carolinas. It Paul commented that he often visited family in southern Kentucky, but he didn't exactly know the city, town, or county. Maria reported that she regularly visited family members in Indiana; next to speak was Garrett, who shared that while he also visited family members in southern Indiana, most of his family was originally from this county. Berdie's family was from a nearby town, Manchester; Corinne visited family in both Indiana and Florida, and Steve visited family members in many cities in northeastern Ohio. Chi Chi visited relatives in, ―Central Kentucky... south of Lexington, and also occasionally in West Virginia." Kelsey regularly visited cousins in eastern Tennessee and Robbie visited family in the next county closest to Cincinnati where his aunts and uncles currently live. He did specifically mention an area that is urban Appalachian currently, which may indicate that he is also of Appalachian descent, but according to my definition, the students had to have mentioned one of states in the Appalachian Mountain region. For this discussion, Rebecca took quite some time with the buildup; she demonstrated that she honestly wanted to help me as much as possible as she drew out each child knowing the real purpose of this discussion. I was excited that many of her children visit family in the Appalachian Mountain region. I still had one more class to listen to and observe in this fashion, but I already got a fair idea of these children‘s cultural heritage. After lunch, as Sue began her discussion, I was as excited to be listening to this conversation as I was anxious on the first day of school. So far, this day had proven to be

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devoted to my research and I almost felt like I was acting as an orchestra conductor helping the teachers set up these discussions and scenarios. Perhaps more importantly, I was acting as a detective as I listened to the children talk and share their stories of family, traveling, and place. Sue began her class discussion by creating a list of states that would be considered Appalachian and as the children shared where their relatives lived, she would add a state as needed. She didn't devote as much energy or time to this discussion as her two colleagues had spent a great deal of time the day before having a similar and revealing discussion. The real purpose of today's discussion was to allow those children who didn't share the previous day to do so today. Under the chalk-written word, Pennsylvania, one child, Igor, often visited his grandparents near Pittsburgh. While I didn‘t discuss with him exactly where his grandparents lived, considering Pittsburgh and its nearness to the Appalachian Mountains, from previous research, I discovered that there wasn't much of a significant Appalachian presence in that city, so I decided not to pursue the matter further. Three children, Katie, Annabelle, and Mario, visited relatives in Indiana.

Florida had the highest number of fifth grade visitors in this class with a total of 11, but having listened to the travel discussion, Sue stressed the vacation aspect versus the visiting family aspect. She continually stressed the geographic destination and focused little on the element of "who" was being visited during the traveling experience. Many children in this class had multiple family members in Appalachian counties and states. The amazing element of this class discussion was that most of the children who were identified as having Appalachian roots were clearly able to articulate the county where they visited, not just the state. With Appalachian culture, the place of origin seems to be equal to the county of origin, as opposed to simply the town or city of origin. While I knew this was true from past, lived experiences with families and friends, I was now eagerly collecting the data to support such an assertion. Sue and I discovered that six children in this class—Don, Carson, Lulu, Fergie, Goliath, and Patrick—had multiple family members in eastern Kentucky for this research. I acknowledge that I selected certain counties along the Appalachian Mountain Region in Kentucky when I considered if the child was from an Appalachian heritage.

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Simply because one lives in Kentucky or eastern Ohio doesn't automatically make them of Appalachian descent. Four children had relatives in Tennessee... Dawn, Noah,

Carson, and Fergie. Two children, Carson and Lulu, shared that they visit relatives in West Virginia often. I would later meet Carson's grandmother, a retired teacher, who shared with me much about her rich West Virginia Appalachian heritage. I was delighted to determine that such a large Appalachian presence was part of this school‘s culture. While I was not surprised by these findings, I was instead relieved that my time spent so far was not time spent in vain.

The Science Club After school, the science club children trickled into the classroom. Previously, Sue had sent with them a note reminding them to wear appropriate clothing for a first post-winter trip out on the nature trail. Unlike past meetings, this meeting was completely full. The room was filled with 22 young people ready to get outside. I couldn't blame them. The bi-monthly meeting of the environmental science club ran from 2:15 until 4:15 p.m. each afternoon. The club consisted of students who had applied and been randomly chosen. The club size, 22, was approximately half of the total number of student applicants that year. Sue claimed that with many more, the club loses its intimacy. Originally, the fifth- through eighth-graders were invited to be members, however, no eighth-grade students signed up to become members this year. The students ranged in age from fifth grade through seventh-grade. Today, the club was evenly split between genders: 11 boys and 11 girls. As the children sat waiting to "finally get outside," according to Jason, a club member, the leaders led the children on an informal creek walk. We did not bring along the usual testing kits and large dip nets we would regularly take on such a journey; instead, we just brought a few small aquarium nets. Today, I had the distinct goal of listening to not only the sounds of nature but more importantly, to these students as they talked while observing flora and fauna in nature. Unfortunately today, the other teachers had obligations, so Sue and I were the only teachers leading the lesson. As we began to walk on the trail, I led the members as Sue followed the group from behind.

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As soon as we opened the door to go outside, one of fifth grade member, Steve, (as in the late Steve Irwin, his idol, The Crocodile Hunter) screamed, "At last we are free... freedom at last!‖ Although few children verbalized these sentiments as we went outside, I must admit, when I begin a nature walk or outside learning experience, I feel the same thrill to be outside regardless of season. I think many children do as well, but again, they just don't verbalize those feelings. Many of the boys immediately ran to the pond's edge looking for any sign of life or movement. "It's a snapping turtle... a baby snapping turtle," Greg, a seventh-grade boy shouted. Above the glistening pond surface was the head of a small turtle. As it swam across to the other side of the pond, the club members stood mesmerized as if they'd never seen one before. Interestingly, most of these children have their own ponds and lakes at home. We continued to walk on into the woods. The pond's muddy organic smell was apparent even after we entered the wooded area. It was the grand woodsy smell of wet mulch with notes of mosses and juniper. It was great to finally be outside. In contrast to clearly seeing in the sunny, cloudless day by the pond, the path of the mulched trail became a visual challenge as it took a moment for our eyes to adjust. After trying to keep the eager boys walking with me as opposed to walking ahead of me, I turned to make sure Sue was with the group still. She was back with girls 30 yards behind us. Funny how even at the seventh-grade level, there is an obvious gender separation when walking outside. I waited with the boys as they threw things off the wooden bridge into the shallow ravine below as I observed them talking and their often stereotypic gendered behavior. The thought immediately occurred to me that since the title of this project is, "Naturally Outspoken," this presupposes that children, especially Appalachian children, will be more talkative outside then inside. I was again relieved to hear these children talk. They were not simply listening to an all- knowing teacher; rather, they were actively engaged in conversation. In these outside spaces, they were not passive recipients of knowledge. Stepping outside, they became socially engaged as they shared meaning in this special and personal outside space. It was as if the further these children walked away from the building, they quicker they discarded their school persona and replaced it with their casual, relaxed, and genuine outside persona. I would need to find and collect much data to support that singular assertion I then realized.

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As Sue and the girls caught up, we talked for a few moments about the erosion that occurred in this area over time. We did this as a lead-in to going to the creek bed. We approached the dramatic 300-foot cliff‘s edge. As we walked down its steep and winding path, a seventh-grade girl, Lacey, suddenly stopped out of fear. She refused to go any further down the path for fear of slipping off the cliff. Repeated reassurance fell on her deaf ears—she stopped dead in her tracks. Realizing there were only two adults, Sue and I agreed that I should take the other members down to the stream bank while Sue would "work this out with Lacey." As Sue and Lacey found their way down to the creek bed, I had a great experience with the other club members. Several of them, both boys and girls, were able to identify many organisms in the water not by scientific name, but by colloquial names. While some were familiar, such as crawfish and crawdad, others were new and I hadn't heard them before. A Rainbow Darter became a Striped Minnow, and a dragonfly nymph was a pincher bug larva thing. When I asked a seventh-grade member, Milo, how he knew so much about creek animals, he said he regularly visited his grandfather in Tennessee. He shared that the grandfather lives in the mountains and he had spent much time with him identifying plants and animals in the nearby creeks. Milo was encouraged to be in the science club as a result of his bad attitude, failing grades, and poor school attendance. Milo adopted a hip-hop style of clothing. Although he was a small Caucasian boy, during every science club meeting, he wore a dew rag and brought out from his pockets ―excessive bling.‖ I couldn't be more excited as I listened to these children talk, observe, and ask questions. When Sue arrived, with the now-calmed and relieved Lacey, it was already time to head back, unfortunately. The hike up the steep incline heading back to the school was more rushed; however, I was as thrilled to have had the opportunity to take these children outside as they were to go outside. It'd been a long, cold winter and we felt relieved after the experience.

Day 3… Friday, May 11, 2007: Doing Citizen Science After ―THE TEST,‖ I was free to begin the month-long stream unit with the children. Sue and I decided that an off-site steam data collection day would help expose the children to the stream diversity found in the county. We planned that the day would be devoted to using the three stream monitoring assessments; chemical,

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macroinvertebrate, and habitat. We would also go to several diverse streams close to the school that would expose the children to differences in water quality. The stream data collection day was finally here. There was so much riding on this day, it was overwhelming to me. As I arrived at school, my mind raced with the possibilities of everything that could go wrong today. Will the children know what to do once they got to the sites? Would the parents know how to help the children? What would the teachers be doing throughout the day? Would the teachers think this day was productive or a total waste of time? Would the children be safe throughout the day? What might happen if someone gets injured? Trying to stop my mental madness, I decided that I needed to focus on the positive aspects of the day, namely that these children would have one of the best experiences of their school careers, or at least, that was my intent. To say that much preparation went into this experience was an understatement. The past week had been a rush of excitement as I attempted to expose these children to all three of the traditional stream monitoring assessments. Creating the copies, binders, clipboards, notebooks, and other organizational tools had proven to be quite time- consuming, extremely detailed, and expensive. The permission slips, the chaperone contacts and frequent parent questioning or not, but beyond that was the continued coordination with the teachers... another frantic and often daunting task as well. All I could do at this point was enjoy the ride. "Let's go, and it may be a bumpy ride," I thought to myself. Getting today's haul of equipment from my car trunk to the building proved to be an immediate morning challenge. As I balanced the chest waders in my left hand along with pink plastic wash pans filled with extra paper towels, plastic trash bags, suntan lotion, and my lunch bag, I used the other hand to carry extra backpacks for the children to use. I was extremely glad that the children were able and willing to bring in old backpacks to help manage all of equipment. The day before, they helped me organize all of the backpacks. As the children were divided into small groups of four to six members in each group, each small group will have the charge of carrying a group data collection backpack throughout the day. Each backpack contained the following equipment:  one laminated folder with the directions and data collection sheets for the chemical analysis of the stream water

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 one 2 gallon zip lock bag with the test tablets from the chemical testing kit—The Pond Water Tour—the chemical testing kit for water designed for use with children  a clipboard with laminated stream macroinvertebrate organism assessment sheets also with non-laminated data collection sheets  one three ring binder with a copy of the habitat index designed for children, called Crabby’s Shack  extra plastic grocery bags for the disposal of colored tested water from the streams  one audio tape recorder for my data collection  hand lenses  a journal for group and individual reflections  sharpened pencils

Once in Sue's room, I quickly put down the bundle I was carrying as my shoulder muscles began to ache. Earlier in the semester, I had gotten severe twinges in my right shoulder, but since ―THE TEST‖ was over, they miraculously disappeared. Just then, the children bounded into the classroom as if they were actors with varying entrance queues in a play scene. The children were different today in many ways. They excitedly came into the room, being more animated and noticeably louder than usual. "We don't have any school today, right Mr. Scott?" Freddie asked me as he held his hands together demonstrating the universal ―PLEASE‖ body posture. His tone suggested that being outside was not school and in many ways, he was right. "What do you mean by school?‖ I asked, looking a bit confused. ―You know what I mean... writing, reading, desk work,‖ Freddie continued as he pleaded. "Well, you‘ll be doing a lot of writing out by the streams today. Remember that this is a data collection trip not actually a field trip,‖ I responded, sounding teacher-like. Overhearing the conversation were many more children and, at that point, Cordelia, who is perhaps the most dramatic child in the grade, piped up and said, "But being outside is so... so... so refreshing... anything is more fun

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outside!" Cordelia sang into the classroom as she was holding her hands in the air twirling in circles. The other students and I just looked at her as we smiled. After an extended restroom break when I was double-checking the backpacks for the needed supplies, Sue began a spelling pretest. She was the only person on our team actually teaching at that moment. It was actually challenging while the other classes went to their restroom breaks for our class to concentrate on a spelling test. We were right next to the boy‘s smelly bathroom which echoed sounds like a cricket chirping in a tin pail. Through the nearby noise of boys slamming stall doors, Sue could be heard saying... "response... The girl's response was not audible during the spelling bee... response." "Distance... the distance from my house to the school is about 3 miles... distance." Parent chaperones started arriving just at that moment. As per the chaperone note, the parents were asked to come to the classrooms by 8:15 a.m. Within about 10 minutes, there were somewhat eager parents in every classroom who were going with us on the trip. I gathered the parents in the hall and explained, briefly, what today would look like: two stream visits, both within 15 minutes of the school separated by a school bus ride with a picnic lunch at a park picnic shelter. I said to the parents, ―Your main job was not to know the assessment protocols, but to keep the children safe. You will most definitely and assuredly get wet. No child or adult should ever go into the water above their knees. The children need to stay together and most importantly, with you, the chaperone parent. You all are the "Mother Ducks" and the children are the ducklings, always following you into the water as you lead the way.‖ I scanned the parents‘ clothing and facial expressions to make sure that they were dressed appropriately and there were no signs of confusion or opposition to the directions. Everyone seemed "on board." Earlier that morning, one mother had come into the science room and told Sue she was sorry, but her son was ill and she would have to cancel. Fortunately, I was prepared for such an announcement. Kitty, one of the previously identified Appalachian children, yesterday asked if her mother could go on the trip. I said, ―Certainly… yes! We'd love to have your mom come along.‖ There was only one problem today. Kitty's mother, Lisa, was dressed as if she were going to an art museum. While all other parents wore torn T-shirts, jeans shorts with rips, ball caps, and old gym shoes or boots, Lisa looked entirely different. She had on white shorts, a navy

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blouse, white leather dress sandals, and white acrylic costume jewelry. Lisa admitted not knowing what was expected of her. There was nothing I could do at that point but express to Lisa how glad I was that she had come. So I did. I needed every single parent chaperone for that day as the parents proved to be a vital part of the trip. As the day unfolded, they worked extremely hard trying to keep the children focused, together, and the data accurately collected. Among the parents was Lynn Shinkel, the county Soil and Water District Educator. Her son, Derek, was in Rebecca Ringwald's homeroom class. Lynn had helped during past teacher workshops on water-related issues held at that school, and so we had grown to know each other rather closely. Lynn was the major reason why I worked with Sue in the first place. Approximately 18 months earlier, as I scouted school districts and with the hopes of finding teachers who would support my research project, I decided to target a small Appalachian community in the southern part of the county next to the Ohio River. Knowing I needed to find a school near a stream with easy access, I set out to study the streams in that community. Before I made the hour-long trip, I called the county Soil and Water District in Parisburg to ask about best stream sites. I was greeted by Lynn Shinkel on the phone. In the midst of our conversation, Lynn said, "You do not want to go to that community. There is a teacher who is much more willing and much closer to you and she teaches in a school where there's a creek on the property. You need to work with Sue Ponder at Country Dale Middle School in that same district.‖ And so, as Lynn as the spark, it happened. In her short denim shorts, matching denim, sleeveless corset-style blouse with lace trim, white Keds gym shoes, gold ankle bracelet, long highlighted blonde hair, perpetual year-round tan, and blue eyes, Lynn didn't exactly fit the stereotypical water and soil educator mold. Neither did her personality. While she was gregarious and I can say without reservation that I liked Lynn because of her support and knowledge of the community‘s watershed, she seemed to be ―naturally outspoken‖ about most things. She fortunately had the maturity to keeps those possibly conflicting opinions silent. Lynn did add to the diversity of the parent chaperone group. She also knew much about streams in the county and I was truly glad she came with us.

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As we boarded the buses, I was fortunate to learn that the two drivers knew exactly where we were going and they also know exactly where and how we would park. Taking school buses to a place not designed for school buses was yet another trip challenge, again reminding me, this was not an average field trip. ―Field trips are predictable and formulaic, while this data collection trip is completely uncharted, and scientific,‖ I reassuringly said to myself. As the light shone through the windows on this beautiful May morning, I listened to the children. While there were chances of rain showers that afternoon, it was sunny now. There was science talk all over the bus: "I'd better be able to carry the backpack the entire day, or else I ain‘t helpin‘ you at all." "When we find the crawdads, we've got to make sure they don't eat each other, so you Batista… you've got to use the small guppy net to keep them separated at all times!" "I know, this new nail polish is phat, isn't it?‖ ―You are not supposed to be eating yet, Noah... Oh, I'm tellin…I am so tellin!‖ So not all talk was science-related, but it was real. Not everyone was speaking however, as many children sat looking out the window at the beautiful country scenery around us. Upon reaching our destination, the buses backed into their respected and chosen spots on the street across the road from the first stream. Many of the children were as amazed at the site as me. Not realizing we would have to cross the road and walk along its edge for about a quarter of a mile, I now realized I had a new legitimate concern. I had to make sure these children stayed safe and together with the chaperones. We crossed the road, and we walked along a valley between two hills. The highway had vehicles—cars, pickup trucks, and 18 wheelers—bearing down at 65 to 70 miles an hour. Without a single direction, the parents instinctively walked on the traffic side of the road as the children were guided towards the grass pull off and the nearby field‘s edge. As semi trucks blew past us with great speed, gusts of dusty air blew hair in all directions and even caused ball caps to fly off. Despite the dangers, it was all worth the risks. I couldn't help but think that this part of the county was quite beautiful. I did know this part of the county quite well. As a child, I passed this exact spot weekly driving to my grandmother's farm from the suburbs. The cemetery on the next hill over was my family cemetery and to be honest, someday, I expect to spend a long time in this area. Between where we were and the

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cemetery on the hill was a farm owned by my previous childhood dentist, Dr. Milhouse. A herd of white-faced Herford cattle stood grazing on the hillside enjoying the spring grass. As the children turned the bend to enter the gravel path leading down towards the creek, the teachers gathered everyone around me. I asked the children if they had any questions before we began collecting data. As the day was hot, already in the upper 70° bracket, a red-faced Dawn raised her hand. Squinting at me as she peered over her white- framed plastic sunglasses, Dawn asked, "What happens if we get different results than other people in the other groups?‖ ―It is part of the process,‖ I responded, "But that is an excellent question. Thanks for asking it, Dawn." ―Any others?‖ I then asked. Another hand shot up just at the same moment that he swatted a flying insect from across his face. "Yes, go ahead Ang.‖, I said as I watched many children swatting away insects on legs and arms. ―When we write down the readings, what happens if they get wet?‖ he asked as if he already knew the answer. ―Another good question,‖ I said… "If that happens, we'll deal with it but please, do not try to do anything wet.‖ ―One last question?‖ Seeing no more hands, then instantly Rocky shot his hand up while yelling out at the same time, "Can we take home any animals we find?‖ "No... definitely no. We want them to prosper in their own habitats.‖ As we walked toward the creek, I contemplated that last response to the child, Rocky. At that moment, as with many other moments in dealing with children in nature, I responded in cookie-cutter ways to questions I've been asked repeatedly throughout my lifetime. Having attended day camps as a child at a nearby private nature organization and preserve, I was told repeatedly the exact same message about promoting stewardship for animals and the earth, but unfortunately, it was delivered in such a condescending manner to me and my friends, it often fell on deaf ears. I've always struggled between promoting eco-awareness to children and at the same time meeting them half-way in their cultural space, and with my ongoing and increasing awareness and appreciation for culture, I'm pushing myself into boundaries I‘ve not reached before. I truly don't think many other people have gone there either. I don't want to be like my former outdoor education role models-an Eco-Snob. I would rather promote awareness through interest and, at the risk of keeping the bar a bit lower, get more people on board. I think that's the

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only way that we as a planet will solve the ecological dilemmas we have currently created. As the small groups walked to previously assigned creek monitoring spots, the sound of excitement was all around us. It was almost palpable, measurable, and definitely in the air; the type of anticipation that occurs when so many people are expecting to have something exciting and new and different and fresh. We were all, including myself, on a data-gathering frontier with no true expectations other than to enjoy intimately well. The 63 children were divided into three data collection stream groups equaling approximately four small groups per monitoring site. I randomly chose a site to observe as I began this next part of my day. The first group I joined was an all-boy group consisting of Chris, Dean, Mike, Patrick, and Patrick's dad, Butch. Butch was a slender man, with a short scruffy gray and rust-colored beard; a gray, red and white sleeveless Coors Lite T-shirt; black, paint- splattered jeans shorts, holy athletic socks and tan work boots. On his left arm was a freshly-inked, brightly colored Japanese dragon tattoo fighting a lion with a dead Python dripping in blood lying limp in the lion's mouth. I only know this detail because Butch, some other parents, and I talked about the tattoo at length earlier as his arm was still pink from being recently inked several days before. He was diligent in putting suntan lotion on his new piece of artwork prior to the trip. As his name might suggest, Butch was weathered and most likely much younger than he appeared. I was eager to listen to how Patrick interacted with his father as Patrick knew full well his relatives in West Virginia and in Tennessee. This was one parent and child pairing that didn't seem quite to go together. Patrick, who was in the gifted pullout program, always wore what I considered preppy clothing, and is extremely articulate and detailed in his work. I fully expected Patrick's dad to be a "typical suburban dad with a dressier shirt, chino shorts, water sandals, etc. despite Sue‘s accurate description of Butch. Let me reaffirm that I am making no judgment as I'm not suggesting that one is better than the other, Patrick or Butch, preppy or rough. It's just a surprising match. While some children at this age use clothing as an extension of their identity, I believe others do not. Many boys‘ clothing may more accurately be an extension of their mother‘s identity as opposed to their own.

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Butch proved to be a delight on this field trip. He actively participated with the boys in seeking animals in both streams. "Look... we found a hellgrammite... a hellgrammite,‖ Mike yelled as he held it up for all to see as water dripped into the creek from its wriggling body. "Very cool‖, Butch said encouragingly. ―Boys, make sure you take turns.‖ ―We will‖, Patrick screamed, as he picked up a large flat piece of shale from the waters depth. It dripped water down his white Nike T-shirt. He was oblivious to the dripping as he was too interested in finding the creatures that lie waiting to be discovered underneath the rock. Looking over at the next group of children, another group of boys who were all running and splashing through a shallow stream pool, I immediately glanced around looking for their chaperone parent. There on the shore, 20 yards away, was Noah's mom, an unusually beautiful woman in her early 30s with large brown eyes and olive skin. Talking on a cell phone and smoking a cigarette as she flicked gray ashes into the water. "Holy Cow‖, I thought... ―We just got here and she has to have a smoke already.‖ I surmised that not everyone can be a Butch. As I chased after the boys to "encourage them to be a bit more observant in the stream," I overheard another conversation from another different group entirely—three girls—about the stream. They were patiently gathered around the habitat assessment tool quietly perched on the streams bank. "If you look at the band of the stream, it looks winding and... sinuous,‖ rationalized Jamie, a girl with short red hair and red-framed plastic sunglasses. "No, but if you saw it from the road as we walked over the bridge, it just has this one bend here; otherwise it is not curvy at all,‖ added Polly, a tanned girl with platinum, sun bleached hair. "I think it is a little sinuous, you guys," interrupted Uniqua, a child with long brown hair pulled back with a blue plastic hair band. "It doesn't have to be all or nothing... it can be some or partial. Like Mr. Scott said, it's an index or a scale and it's not always all or nothing."

Wow, did that make me feel good! The children were actually not only listening, but truly able to apply some pretty complicated concepts to stream monitoring. After I spoke a moment with my ―friends‖, who at the moment were lacking a chaperone, I decided to go downstream to the next cluster of small groups. As I began to walk down the wet sticky path, I saw the mystery missing chaperone, Lisa, standing away from the wetness

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and muck as she clutched her white vinyl purse hanging on her right shoulder pretending to pay attention to what the girls were doing. I smiled at her and she replied, "I am keeping an eye on the girls. They are doing what they are supposed to be doing.‖ I just smiled in response. While walking, I passed the wicked stench of rotting carcass I've ever smelled in my entire life. It had to be something the size of a cow or a deer as this vile aroma permeated every cell of my olfactory system. Before I reached the next location, I could hear many of the children. In their excitement of discovering water pennies, small beetle larva that attach themselves to the bottom of stream bottom rocks, two of the children fell backwards into the water onto their bottoms while laughing all the time. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but they both had the look of children who just done something totally unusual and scary and who were searching their personal Rolodexes for appropriate reactions. Freddie enthusiastically left his group to help each of the girls out of the water, but as he offered assistance, the two girls responded with a polite, "No thanks, we‘re fine!‖ Freddie had not been allowed to participate in any school-related field trips all year long. His grandmother had been the school secretary in the front office for 28 years until this past summer. Due to differences with the principal Shelby, Freddie's grandmother left the office one day and never returned. As a result, Freddie has not been allowed to participate in anything. He was given permission to participate in this study by his mother and she was here chaperoning this data collection field trip., Like three other stream chaperone parent's there on that day, Freddie's mother had never before come to the school or to a parent teacher conference. They were willing to do this quite nontraditional trip to be with their children today. As children gathered around the tubs of collected stream animals, Lynn Shinkel pointed out interesting adaptations of certain organisms. In a commanding voice, she said, ―The collected freshwater clams are camouflaged to blend in with stream substrate material. The crayfish are able to walk backwards to avoid predation. The Dobsonfly larva in the tub has massive pinchers which you need to avoid." Keith asked her, "Why do they live in the water... How can they breathe?" Lynn looked down at Keith over her lowered cat eye-framed black plastic sunglasses and said, ―These organisms have gills on the bottom of their bodies to help them breathe, she replied. Didn't we talk about that

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earlier in the school year or maybe last year?‖ Keith continued to tell all of us about how his uncle uses them as bait when he fishes in the nearby lake, Stone Hill Lake, 10 minutes from the school. I walked over to a group of girls who curiously took water samples and filled small Ziploc bags as they delicately dropped in chemical tests tablets. They excitedly awaited a chemical reaction to occur with the anticipation of witnessing a change in the water‘s coloring. "Be sure to shake it gently, Sarah‖ said Chi Chi, scoldingly. "I'm not about to over shake it, but I may over shake you...", Sarah rebuffed. "See Mr. Scott, what I have to live with today,‖ Fergie whined as she pulled her long, sandy blonde hair back away from her sweaty neck while fanning her warm skin with her other hand. Cordelia piped up, "Don't mix the test tablets... this water is precious!‖ "We've got water all around us‖, added the chaperone, Roderick, Chi Chi's stepfather. Cordelia replied, "But Mr. Long, we‘ve only got so much safe water in the world that can be turned into drinking water for us and animals. We must protect this planet." Roderick laughed and shook his head, as if to say, ―These darn kids today…‖ Cordelia was turning out to be a budding eco-snob in the making; it was largely my fault as those were my exact words earlier in the week.

Checking on the third cluster of small groups, I came to the site further downstream. I was concerned that this would be the one site that had the fewest organisms and the possibility of extensive water murkiness coming from the upstream disturbance of the other groups. I was delightfully wrong. This section of the stream was, by far, the most scenic. The far bank was not really a bank, per se, but a cliff of more than 300 feet in height. Down the cliff was a series of interesting growing trees, shrubs, and wild plants, all hanging over in intriguing and beautiful formations. As I look down towards the children, I saw three boys standing in a pool next to the main channel of the stream. The size of a large child‘s swimming pool and about as deep, the creek pool held the boys as they yelled in an overlapping unison chorus, "This is a crawdad gold mine...

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there are millions of baby crawdads here... millions!" True enough, they were taking their small dip net and randomly scooping up anywhere from 20 to 30 small juvenile crayfish with each scope of the net. Without fail, this happened every single time they repeated the scooping motion. I'd never seen anything like this before. It was truly special and unique. As the group's finalized their data collection, the children excitedly shared what they collected on the rocky stream bank. Before I knew it, the children had determined that this was a healthy stream after sharing that the most stream organisms came from group 1 Taxa. With some deviations and disagreements, the children ranked the streams in the ―Good‖ range. It was sort of confusing to some of the children, who assumed that because we were next to a farm, it would be excess nitrate deposits in the stream, and I did acknowledge that I originally thought the same thing a year ago when I studied this stream. We then discussed at length that the volume of chemical deposition was fundamentally important in determining a stream‘s health. At that point, I did also share I thought it was a healthy stream. I then encouraged them to begin packing everything up to go on to the next visit, the river. Up until now, the main task I had asked of the teachers was to make sure that the children were safe. So far, so good. Thirty minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of our second destination... the East Branch River. Despite sounding dangerous, the site was frequently monitored by both adults and children as it was truly a great spot next to a park and more importantly, it was usually shallow. It was also chosen because it harbors a wide variety of macroinvertebrates. After lunch and a thorough discussion of our expectations for a more "on task" data collection session, as the chaperones listened and shared some of their solutions for a more seamless experience in the streams, small groups of children trickled into the water as instructed, like ducklings following a mother duck. Knowing we had less time at this location, the teachers and I stressed that all of the data collection had to be expedient as "time was of the essence." The river spanned about three times the width of the creek we visited in the morning. However, due to constant stern reminders, a full stomach after lunch, and the desire to get dry again, the children, for the most part, worked efficiently and productively throughout the next hour. Even with two boys who literally "dove head- first" into a river run swimming upstream, as they were subsequently kept out of the

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experience for the remaining part of the day and were told to sit on a nearby picnic bench in the shade, the children were mature acting. Surprisingly, despite past success in collecting and theory of healthy indicator organisms, the children come relatively few living things, but of the ones they did collect, there were indicative of an extremely healthy stream in the ―good" range. I honestly think that the lack of sampling time and lack of rigor led to our finding of decreased populations of organisms. At the conclusion of the sampling and testing experience, we gathered together to share findings, write personal and scientific observations and reflections in the lab notebooks, and conclude the day. We loaded the bus, and started to head back to school. By now, the skies were extremely cloudy which actually made for perfect river observation experience. On the quiet drive back to school, I overheard many children say that this day had been the best day of their school career thus far. At least five children asked why we weren't going to a third creek. The teachers acknowledged on that ride that it had been an extremely organized and productive experience for the children, and I have to agree with them, this was true. I think what made this experience so meaningful to all of us was that the day‘s data collection involved the process of the children conducting real science in some special places to everyone involved. Everyone had a responsibility of doing something throughout the day, everyone was an equal, and there was a built-in expectation of communication between group members. When children are given a problem to solve with the expectation of maturity and success, they rise to the occasion. When the element of the children's culture is also taken the consideration and the use of culturally relevant pedagogical practices are utilized, best things can occur.

These three days were chosen, again, is just a small slice of school culture of the Country Dale School fifth grade students and their teachers. Whereas this three day vignette included all students, regardless of cultural heritage, as well as teachers and parents, the following chapter will explore the identified Appalachian children‘s discourse and their social construction of knowledge in science, specifically during the stream monitoring unit.

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Chapter 5: Research Findings and Discussion

The Goals of the Chapter This chapter represents the findings of the fifth grade children during the five month observation period. I include several elements in this chapter to reveal the emergent nature of the study. I did not go into the school with a preconceived hypothesis of how Appalachian children talked in science. Instead, I used the five guiding questions of the project to lead me in possible directions as I sought answers. The chapter favors two dimensions of the field experience—space and time. As space is fundamental to the guiding research questions, ―How do particular spaces affect children’s discourse during a problem-based curricular unit? How do outside spaces, in particular, inform this discourse?‖ I explore the children‘s dialogue in each of the spaces—inside and out—where they talked about science. I also include the dimension of time which directly corresponds to space in this study. Two of the five questions relate to the dimension of time because certain science inquiries were conducted only during the stream monitoring unit. These questions include, ―How does the type of science inquiry influence this discourse? How do children talk during citizen science versus inquiry- based science?‖ and ―How does the curriculum and pedagogy influence student’s discourse about science?‖ The initial four months of the data collection occurred inside due to a combination of the weather and the testing schedule. The final h month was entirely devoted to the stream unit and it occurred both inside and outside. Throughout the chapter, I infuse another central question, ―How does the Appalachian cultural identity of these children inform this discourse?‖ into every section as I focus on the ways that the Appalachian children present themselves. I begin the chapter with a brief explanation of the question, ―What assumptions do I have as a teacher/researcher as I approach this study?‖ This question cannot be bracketed entirely from the others due to my choice of theoretical analytical methodologies—constructivist grounded theory. The researcher‘s voice is essential considering I recognize that my knowledge construction contributes to the data I select and how I choose to present it. I begin the forthcoming sections with some initial findings of how all the children talk in the inside spaces. I include all voices because I hadn‘t yet identified the children of Appalachian descent. I then detail the inside spaces as I privilege the science room, but

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I also include the mathematics and socials studies room to elaborate on all the spaces where the children created communities of learners. I devote the remainder of the chapter to the stream unit as I convey discourse both inside and outside. I conclude the chapter with a discussion and relevant educational implications of the findings. This chapter uses multiple forms of data sources to elaborate on the richness of the children‘s discourse. Four forms of written text—field note memos, audio-taped dialogue transcriptions, my reflexive journal entries, and the chapter‘s text—are a substantial component of this chapter. I do not include the original verbatim field notes that were written on the notepad computer because in many cases, they were literally scribbles of ideas and thoughts. Instead, following Charmaz‘s suggestion for using constructivist grounded theory, I initially coded the field notes for recurring themes. I then took those themes and wrote memos about them. Again, in constructivist grounded theory, memos are expanded versions of a theme. Whereas coded field notes may be no more than brief related phrases, memos are these ideas but in an expanded writing format. Memo writing is the step prior to the generation of theories. The memos are single-spaced and in black font, like the dialogue transcriptions, in this chapter. My personal reflexive journal entries are also included and are in smaller blue font. Photographs increasingly became an important part of the data and consist of two main types. Current photographs of the children revealed how they interacted with one another. Artifactual photographs of their families in or near streams proved to show strong cultural linkages between the families and the streams. I also include the children‘s writing—drawings, projects, and field notes—as a way of elaborating on their discourse.

Analyzing the Data As I analyzed the data, changing points of view, intention, and motive demanded to be addressed. The data analysis began when I was in the field and continued for approximately five months afterwards. I concluded that the emerging changes of view were due to four factors; my increased exposure to the school culture; my changing role from researcher to teacher-researcher; a growing awareness of the children; and the space where I analyzed the data. In the beginning of January when I was a school and cultural outsider, the taken-for-granted experiences of the school were foreign to me. As my exposure to the school discursive practices increased over time, so too did my

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understanding of the relationships between the practices. These discursive practices largely included customs, language, symbols, and text. Initially when I was in the field, my ―researcher‖ voice reflected a transformation over time into that of a ―teacher‖ voice during the stream study. As I began to observe the discursive practices of each child, I was then able to begin the memoing and coding which ultimately led to theorizing. I initially set out to analyze the data in the same space where the data was collected, and I succeeded for much of the time period. There were many days that this goal was not possible to reach mainly due to challenging weather and time-related issues. In certain spaces, the children‘s voices became more relevant and audible. Those elements of my analysis added additional layers upon which I needed to reflect. I decided to use a spatial description of the events because the multiple spaces where the Appalachian children interacted laid out a trail I could follow as the community was being formed. Using simple headings (inside and outside) helped me sort voices and actions into broad categories for initial analysis. The more descriptive subheadings (specific spaces such as Science Room or Country Dale Outdoor Center) served as guideposts on the journey. Key phrases linked interpretation of the events to the reflections that surfaced in discussions and activities throughout the five month period. Reading them first may help the reader appreciate the length and breadth of the spaces. The narrative vignettes that bracket the data collection period, offer vivid portrayals of the feelings that informed those crucial times. Enlightening is how uniquely the three science classes interacted inside given the almost the same experiences, however outside, ―all rules were off‖ as all the children were continually facing unfamiliar challenges.

Assumptions Going In As a former camp counselor and a veteran teacher with an enthusiasm for environmental education of more than twenty-five years, I have enjoyed the freedom of introducing children to nature as we ventured into outside spaces. By the time I first taught school, I had four summers of camp counseling under my belt. Leading children outside was then more natural than teaching a full day inside for me. I also have spent a good amount of time with Appalachian children. During my nine camp summers, I was fortunate to have had specific camps of fully-funded Cincinnati Presbyterian scholarship

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children from identified Appalachian counties in southeastern, Ohio. Every summer, two weeks would be set aside for these children who ranged in age from five to sixteen. I have more recently had another influential experience with Appalachian children. My last teaching opportunity was in an urban Appalachian district near Cincinnati—Canaan City Schools. As the elementary science specialist for two elementary school buildings, I knew every child in the schools from kindergarten to sixth grade as I taught each class in the science laboratories. I acknowledge these experiences so as to situate my assumptions about children‘s inside versus outside discourse. Coupled with over twenty years of formal science teaching, the experiences peaked my curiosity about how these Appalachian children talk about science outside. I honestly had few preconceived notions regarding how rural children would talk about science and specifically, what might happen at Country Dale Middle School. My experiences with children outside have been so varied; it was honestly difficult for me to articulate how this particular group of children might respond to studying streams. As I formulated the questions and the multiple versions of the project proposal over the course of a year, admittedly, I did imagine what might happen with a group of children in the school. However, in those imaginings, my ideas were vague at best. I did believe that children liked to be outside as my experience had taught me. Generally speaking, I believed, children equated being outside with play as opposed to work, which usually occurred during school. School overwhelmingly happened inside. Teachers and parents don‘t call school assignments play; it is school work. When I play, I am relaxed and when I am relaxed, I am more inclined to act and talk in more casual ways. I am also freer to express myself through more relaxed body posture, conversation, humor, and even through more casual clothing choice. I expected all the children in the three classes to be more relaxed outside, but I was unsure how these experiences would shape their discourse. Although I had participated in many stream monitoring experiences in adult workshops, I had never completed the stream testing with children. I didn‘t know how these children would interpret the opportunities as assignments, or work. Contrarily, might the Appalachian children see outside stream monitoring as play because they were all outside? How might the children find the balance between entering a possibly perceived play space and being in a semi-structured

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school environment during school? I also wondered to what degree the stimulation of change, in this case being in new spaces without walls, would affect their discourse during the context of a school day. What I especially did not know was how the Appalachian children would respond to the stream monitoring experiences. Since the vast majority of the children from my last school—Canaan City Schools—had an Appalachian heritage, I knew how they interacted outside. They were different from these children, however. Those urban children spent a good majority of their day outside, but the outside time usually was a ―means-to-an-end‖ as they traveled between various spaces including the schools, their homes, several parks and cemeteries, or friend‘s houses. They walked to school; after school they were in no hurry to get home as they were often alone or with siblings. Usually one or two working parents outside the home were absent during the after school hours. Many children went home to small apartments or even single rooms rented in basements in undersized homes on crowded streets. Those children were also typically relatively transient as I soon realized would travel in loops over the course of several years—Canaan, then to a rural Appalachian district in either eastern or western Cincinnati, then visiting relatives in Kentucky, and back to Canaan. The district psychologist called them ―Boomerang Kids.‖ The Canaan children were street smart because they had to be. As the perpetual ―new kid‖ in tough schools, those children survived. The Country Dale children were seemingly different from the Canaan City children. Either they were bused to school or they were dropped off by a parent or older sibling. Most of these children went home to welcoming families. I was amazed to witness countless fathers in pickup trucks ―picking up‖ their children at 2:15 p.m. in the afternoon. At first, I thought these men did not work. I later learned they did work—they farmed. Living near many of these children in the rural part of the county, I passed the children on my way to school each day as they waited for the school bus. They literally lived in isolation from each other. Crowding and space was not an issue as was the case in Canaan City. Whereas the Country Dale children had the opportunity to safely ―roam‖ outside, there was a drawback. They spent much time away from friends in social segregation with only their family members. Like the rural yet isolated children near me, these children played outside.

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Many rural parents financially lack the ability to purchase the technology— broadband, satellite, cable television—most of the country now enjoys. Due to their geographic isolation, there are increased expenses with these ―luxuries.‖ These taken-for- granted acquisitions in suburban and urban spaces cost dramatically more in rural spaces due to the increased operating costs to establish service. Satellite broadband or digging the needed extended cable lines for cable television has traditionally been an option only for the well-to-do in the rural Midwest. Cellular phones need cellular towers, and at the time of the data collection, there were no cellular towers within the parameter of the Country Dale School District. Perhaps as a result, these Appalachian children in the study were often quite family-focused because of their isolation from others and also because of their culture. Geographically, these children had to depend on their families to meet their needs. Culturally, in southern Ohio rural counties, ―family‖ reigns supreme as does family respect and duty to family. This loyalty to family is especially true in the Appalachian culture. As I entered this study, I assumed that the Country Dale children would be comfortable being outside and because of this increased comfort, they would talk freely. Like adults, I felt that the children would feel less confined in outside spaces. In turn, this sense of openness would translate into a more relaxed discourse in both spoken and written language, body carriage, and clothing. I suspected everything would be more relaxed. I honestly had no preconception of how the identified Appalachian children would differ in their outside discourses. In tracing my many experiences with Appalachian children, I was never aware of any differences in their interactions outside, let alone how they might interact with one another. I did not know that they would be different at all, and at some level, I was concerned that I may find no interesting or unique data during this project. Like all of the children, I supposed that the Appalachian children would be freer and more open in their discourse outside than inside. First, however, I had to determine how they spoke inside.

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The Data Collection Begins: Inside Spaces

The Science Room The first full observation day in science was finally here. As I sat in the back of the room, I simply watched, listened, and waited. Amazingly, although I had been teaching for over 25 years, every event was new and interesting to me. The children and I shared a wealth of school experience. It was, however, my job to make the common uncommon. The following field notes were written during lunch time of that first Monday to describe the morning.

January, 22, 2007 7:30A.M., Period One Science: This week begins with a gentle dusting of snow outside the window as excited teachers and anxious children hope for an early dismissal. There‘s nothing cold inside as the science room over compensates by continually blowing warm air into the room with a low hum. As last week was the practice test, this is the first full morning of science for all three of the classes. In this warm room, Sue ironically begins the lesson on heat. I can see that many of the children are yawning, waiting, silent, passive or sleepy. It is Monday morning in a warm room. They also know the routine all too well as years of school silence and "good behavior" have served them well. They are beginning to know me but most children in this class seem unconcerned of my presence. They do know each other, but they know that they need to be quiet. They are absolutely quiet. Most eyes are on Sue but many stare blankly in her general direction. As a teacher, I know that silence doesn‘t equal listening. Throughout this lesson, the students are told about the three types of heat conduction with occasional questions inserted in hopes of making this arbitrary topic relevant.

I knew this teaching routine all too well. Among the many other challenging "opportunities" a teacher was to stimulate the children's interest in a topic that was typically foreign to them. Besides getting them excited about the topic, teachers faced the reality that Monday mornings were a time of recovery from the weekend.

Reflective Journal Entry, January 22, 2007, 7:37 a.m. Monday mornings are tough! Honestly, nobody wants to be in school including both the children and the teachers. It seems that Sue eases into the week with the children. It is still challenging to me not to ―do‖ in this learning space. My job is to sit and observe…this is hard! Being my first Monday here, its‘ all pretty casual. I think I am more about taking learning to almost an uncomfortable place. I think learners of all ages need to be ―jarred‖ some times.

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This is Kitty from period two. She listens to Sue discuss heat transfer. In five months, I have never heard Kitty speak inside—at all.

The morning continued with the same lesson delivered to all three classes. The lesson wasn't exactly the same, as Sue tried diligently to tailor it to meet the needs of each diverse group of learners. The secondary class began to show an interesting difference in personality. Sue informed me that this class will be different from the other two. As she told me that, I realized she didn't mean different in a good way. The second period class would soon become a favorite because of these unique children I describe.

8:15 A.M., Period Two Science: As the lesson begins, children act in varying ways. Some children share the same blank expression as children in period one, while others fidget with pencils, shoelaces, or erasers. At a quick glance, the boys dominate this class with their outbursts, disruptions, and participation. The girls—without exception— sit in silence. Their silence is most obvious. These children are quite aware of me as they ask me for help. As Sue teaches, many of them look at me as if I have something to add or some new insight into the matter at hand. The gender differences are striking as I begin to realize that discourse involves speaking.

The second period children did not hesitate to speak out. Actually, the boys spoke out readily. Even on this first day, I realized this class was going to be crucial to my study because even though all children might be thinking about an answer to a science question recently asked; these boys in particular did not edit what they were thinking. You knew what they were thinking because they said it aloud immediately.

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The homeroom class was far different from the other two. Could it be this space, the children, or both? They talked casually to one another, to their teachers, and to me. From the first day of observation of this class, I felt that many of these children almost had a sense of entitlement. I wondered where they gained the sense of privilege. 9:15 A.M., Homeroom Science: Children talk freely in this class. They sit physically turned around in chairs as many of them engage in conversation during the lesson. When I first met these children in September, I was concerned they wouldn‘t talk as they were so quiet. What a difference four-and-a-half months can make. This class is quite at ease in all aspects. There is a conclave of girls who passes notes, some boys softly whisper near me, as other children mouth conversations to each other across the room as Sue reads from a Weekly Reader.

Through cupped hands, Fergie whispers to Dawn as they stand in line waiting for lunch.

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Amber and Freddie freely talk when during Sue‘s reading aloud of the Weekly Reader.

At the start of the study, I hoped that illuminating and describing the differences in the children‘s discourse in the course of a morning of science would become visible. I wanted to show the progression of freedom in discursive practices that I realized would soon emerge. I reasoned that paying attention and teaching the children to pay attention to how and why they were engaged in some science topics might change and evolve over time and in given spaces, I could better examine the science classroom community. Establishing a way to interpret actions, defining norms for the community, and exploring the interdependencies inherent in the reciprocal relationships among children and between Sue and the children were some of ideas I was considering as the data collection began. At the ―Back to School Night‖ in August, I talked with the children‘s parents about our vision for the stream study. I then explained that every child would be invited to conduct the stream studies but the research participation was optional. I briefly shared with the parents that I would be audio recording the children both inside the classroom and outside during stream monitoring unit. I informed them that the use of recorders were one way I would know what the children were thinking. I told the parents that I was collecting other views of representation of how the children would represent themselves and that verbal speech was just a part of how children communicate as they are learning. I shared that writing also communicates their thoughts, questions, and ideas as they

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process ideas. Additionally, photographs would help me tell the children‘s story of that process. I said that discussions were a crucial element in the building of a collaborative scientific community. Talk also helped bind child and teacher together in common purpose. Tracking their relationships through discourse, with each other and with me, was equally important. As the data accumulated, building relationships became the driving factor of my research, the focus of much of the recorded data, the everyday analysis of teacher/child thought and action, and the marker that eventually indicated how the science communities within each science class were being forged.

I adapted and used Charmaz‘s (2006) transcription method for all the transcriptions in this study. I began with an initial transcription of all data during the first several weeks of the collection period, and I selectively chose to only transcribe related data as I took theoretical sampling in later data collection. In other words, as the data was first coded for recurring themes, I later revisited only the themes that had previously been established. For example, when I observed that Appalachian children had unique patterns of communication in outside spaces, I later listened for more examples of that theory to ―flesh out the data.‖ This became especially apparent when I identified the twenty-two Appalachian children who were narrowed from over sixty children. While I focused on the Appalachian children entirely after I identified them, I include the discourse of non- Appalachian children when relevant. The Appalachian children did not speak to each other in a vacuum. I actually studied three distinct classroom communities of science learners and I was honestly surprised how different classes of children communicated given the same subject each day. During the class discussions, I discovered that it was interesting that some groups of fifth graders were able to listen and respond to each other so quickly while others simply seemed combative in how they communicated. During that first week after the practice test, I had my first inkling that the many of the children were more than ready to work together. They were willing to risk sharing their thoughts. I heard whispers of self-confidence from some children and shouts of overconfidence from others in this

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initial exchange in science. Their voices, their intentions and motivations, became louder and stronger as the year progressed. Jan. 23, 2007

7:40 A.M., Period One Science: I decide to move to various parts of the room to gain a broader perspective of the children‘s discussions. Not wanting to assume that this class was entirely quiet all the time, I sit near the window by a table of girls. Previously, I sat by two tables of boys. These girls are Lillian, Minerva, and Bree. As the girls listened to Sue explain the upcoming inquiry on insulation, the girls whisper to each other discretely. For the most part, all the girls at this table are withdrawn during the class, but these girls occasionally write ideas and doodle in their science journals, acknowledge one another with one or two words sentences, and turn to look in the direction of a called- upon child. None of these girls was acknowledged during the questioning session.

Lillian, Minerva, and Bree sit in silence and listen to science. Derrick, in the corner, was called on three times in 45 minutes.

8:43 A.M., Period Two Science: Sitting in the same chair by the window, this group near me consists of four boys: Berdy, Keith, Aaron, and Hunter. Berdy looks blankly down at his desk the majority of the class session only to respond to a question or to disagree with a table mate. The other three boys look at Sue as she talks; Keith is resting his head on his folded arms, Aaron and Hunter, sitting side-by-side, are turned around sideways in their chairs as they face her.

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The children and Megan watch Sue talk about thermal conduction.

Sue: How many of you have ever seen the inside of a thermos? Along with many children, Aaron and Keith raise their hands. Hunter looks confused. Sue: Aaron? What does one look like inside? Aaron: My mom‘s boyfriend gave me an old one he had a kid from his lunchbox set. I accidentally dropped it on the driveway and it shattered…the inside was made of mirrors. Sue: You were you hurt? Aaron: A little…I got a piece of glass in my foot… Sue: You were barefoot? When was this? Aaron: A couple of summers ago. Sue: Aaron! (scoldingly) Did you see inside it? Berdy: (quietly asking and newly interested) What did you see? Aaron: I saw nothing but space. Sue: What do you mean? Aaron: I mean that there‘s nothing but space between where the liquid goes and the mirrored inside. Can anyone explain the purpose for the space? Berdy: (shouting out) It‘s a vacuum and a vacuum is a bad conductor of heat. Sue: That‘s correct…wow…I‘m really impressed, Berdy! What is a vacuum? Berdy: (again raising his hand despite that Sue was asking him the question) It has no air, like a vacuum clean. They take the air out.

9: 50 A.M., Homeroom Science: Today the children had gym class as their special class. They seem to have the same special subject area for eight weeks at a time and the specials include gym, art, library, or health. Music is all year long and it is once a week on Tuesday afternoons. They go to the high school for either a choice of band or chorus. Today, they are hot, sweaty, and a little ―fragrant‖ from playing variations of indoor basketball. I stay at that same seat as Sue begins her discussion of thermoses. Near me is a mixed gender group including Dave, Phoebe, Odelia, and Patrick. When Sue asks if anyone has ever seen the inside of one, only two children raise their hands in the class;

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Patrick and Fergie. Trying to force his small frame up in the air, Patrick waves his hand wildly as he squats in his chair. Sue: (Seeing Patrick, but looking elsewhere) Dave, I‘m surprised you haven‘t seen a thermos before. With that engineer dad of yours, he‘s never shown you how one works? Dave: (looks at her gently shaking his head back and forth) Okay, Patrick, tell us about a thermos. Patrick: They insulate by using a vacuum. (Excitedly explaining.) The people who make them take the air out with a sweeper-like thing and seal them closed, like when you take a beach ball and put that little closer thing on it. Sue: You mean a ―valve.‖ Patrick: Yeah, but actually, now that I think about it, in one, you‘re putting air in and in the other, you‘re taking air out.

Dave reads silently as Noah looks at me. Noah claims that he is bored with school.

At this point, it was soon becoming clear to me that some children were privileged in science while others were not. I didn‘t know much about any of these children yet, but I did know that while some children were at first confident in their shared ideas with one another, they soon became less so as they openly shared responses in the entire context of the class discussions. These children seemed to care mainly about one thing; getting it right. They continually looked to Sue as a means to that ends. This was especially true with the identified Appalachian children. Once I targeted these twenty children, I was then able to narrow my observations to how they converse in the classroom community during science class. Another child who gave up trying was Amber. Amber was not motivated in the least to pay attention in science or language arts. Either Amber worked on the computer

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without permission, colored, passed notes, or slept. Amber was not ―into school‖ as suggested by the following note passed to her best friend, Dawn. Note passing was a large part of Amber‘s science discourse. On this particular note, I covered the girls‘ actual names.

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Amber is spending time doing things other than science in the science room. Even though it seems she is working on the computer, Amber usually played games.

Later in the winter, when it was time for the children to present their ―American Inventors‖ Poster to the other fifth grade classes, Amber‘s poster was not a poster at all as it was actually several pieces of notebook paper taped together with internet clippings stapled onto the pieced papers. It clearly stood out from the other children‘s artistic, detailed, and probably parent-assisted products. When the children shared their home- created musical instrument during the sound unit, amid the gallery of hand-painted reed Pan flutes, straw trombone kazoos, popsicle stick marimbas, and oatmeal box banjos, Ambers‘ instrument was an empty coffee can with beans inside and the words ―Shake That Thing‖ scribbled in Sharpie marker on the lid. Amber did less and less as the five months progressed. This pattern crescendoed until she was just simply attending school. It seemed she did the minimum so as to not be taken to court for excessive absences as she had experienced in other grades. Why did Amber resist so much? According to her teachers, Amber was not excited about what she should be excited about. As the months of observation passed, I became more fascinated with Amber. I found myself focusing on her for 30 minutes at a time. She had no regard for ―playing school.‖ Unlike her female peers, who talked in whispered tones to each other throughout the day, and looked performatively ―on task‖ when Sue looked their way, Amber wasn‘t quiet at all. She boldly announced things to her friends during science regardless of what was occurring. During the middle of a discussion on light waves, just as Sue demonstrated an interesting reflection activity with pouring water and a laser pen, Amber blurted out in

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the now-hushed room, ―Dawn, did you finish your math homework?‖ Exasperated, Sue put the water pitcher down, turned off the laser pen, and said, ―Could you please wait until after science to talk about non-science things?‖ Another day, as Sue was leading small group centers on sound waves, instead of staying with her group as it traveled from station to station, Amber took her blank lab sheet and cleverly transformed it into an Origami butterfly. It admittedly looked impressive. No child in my teaching career has used as much makeup as Amber. She had nothing on Mary Kay of Mary Kay Cosmetics. Amber‘s desk was filled with an assortment of products—lipsticks, perfumes, foundation, blush, and even mascara. I knew this because it was always spilling onto the floor and Amber used class time. She was adept at applying these products during class. Amber "got away with it" most of the time. She didn‘t always succeed, however. Frequently, any science or language arts lesson would be interrupted by the sudden overwhelming scent of marshmallow, watermelon, or peach perfume. Amber spritzed herself often, and the more everyone reacted, the more often the room would reek. Reflective Journal Entry, February, 23, 2007, 10:13 a.m. Today Amber is watching herself in her compact mirror more than she watches Sue. What amazes me most is that she is so unconcerned what anyone thinks and that she is allowed to ―goof off.‖ Sue ignores her completely. To me, as a teacher, ignoring a child who is being unproductive is basically confirming that it‘s alright to waste time. As a researcher, Amber and Sue are not on the same page at all! She is perhaps the most vivid illustration that her interests conflict with the school‘s interest.

Amber would prove to be one of the most fascinating children in this project as she was one of the most unique girls I've ever seen in my teaching career. I could not recall a child who cared as little about school as did Amber. I knew we had children like Amber at Cannan City Schools, but what was different here was that Amber was largely ignored. How child could be ignored intrigued me as much as anything else during the study. This question regarding Amber as well as others would emerge throughout the data collection period.

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First Photographs: Cultural Relationships Begin to Emerge

Mario learns to use one of the school‘s cameras used for the research project. Sue agreed that of all the homeroom children, he had the most social power. He‘s the boy that every girl liked and every boy wanted to be like. He was a logical choice to become a photographer and snap pictures of classroom interactions.

Getting at intention and motive is not a simple task. The face-to- face interactions that were beginning to show up in the three science classes were also happening throughout the homerooms. Since I was most interested in relationships that were developing among children and teachers, and how they affected science discourse, I wanted to be immersed in that context. The digital camera became another way of capturing incidents that I hoped would show others what I was seeing—the discourse of Appalachian children and tentative steps toward building a community of learners inside the science classroom. Using my laptop to screen the photos with the children was especially relevant. For example, Mario was finished with science work one day shortly after I had identified the Appalachian children. His ancestry is English and his relatives live in northern Ohio. Realizing I now had the majority of the children that would not be a part of the study; I wanted to continue including them in some way. After a quick lesson with the digital camera, I asked him to take a candid picture of some of the children interacting. I downloaded the photo to the laptop and called Mario and the girls he photographed over to tell me about the pictures.

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This is Mario‘s picture of Annabelle, Dawn, and Lu Lu holding some notebooks.

Thursday, March 29, 2007 Terry: This is an interesting picture, Mario. I must admit, even though I was near these girls just now, I couldn‘t have told you that they were even away from their seats. Why did you take these girls and what are they doing? (The girls excitedly begin to tell me directly, but I inform them that they will have their turn.) Mario: Well....um....I waited a minute or longer to find something cool to shoot. Terry: What do you think they were doing? Mario: I heard them talking about force and motion. They were just getting reading to drop the books on the ground. Girls: We were... Terry Hold on ladies…Mario, what were they saying? Mario: Something about if the force would be greater over their heads of close to the floor. Terry: Annabelle, what were you trying to do? Annabelle: We‘ve tried to tell you…we were using Newton‘s laws t show that things fall in a straight line because of gravity. The higher up the falling thing is, the faster it comes down. But, LuLu and Dawn were talking about how they saw acorns or… Dawn: Sweet gum balls, silly… Annabelle: falling from trees. LuLu: But maple tree helicopters fall slower. I know, there are in my side yard. Terry: Mario, why this group of children and not others? Mario: They were doing cool things with their books…everybody else was not doing anything but sitting or reading. Terry: Mario, do you think the girls in your picture need to talk to each other? Mario: They talk all the time… Terry: But do they need to talk or could they do the same thing alone? Mario: Um… (he thinks), I dunno, maybe by talking they…got more done. Terry: I see… Annabelle: We definitely did, so we need to talk all the time.

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Terry: Oh?

I strived to often include the child‘s interpretation of actions that were unfolding. Again, looking for time within the school day, I found transitional class times, silent-reading time, or I took advantage of post-instructional time available for those interpretive conversations. The photos helped the children and me revisit and reflect on the activities that I theorized would lead to building a community. Discourse documentation, I discovered through photographs and interpretations, was especially important in the process of tracing the building of a community. It produced and traced changing in each of the classroom communities. Documentation also made learning visible, to child, teacher, and even to the parents. Rinaldi (2001) agrees that documentation can modify learning‖ by allowing the child to see him or herself as others do. ―It makes action tangible and, therefore capable of being interpreted.‖ (p. 84) As I was building theory about the culture the teachers, children, and I were creating, I needed a way to make this shared context explicit. Photographs and interpretation helped me track the attitudes individuals had about community and supplied meanings that only insiders could give. In addition, the socially constructive power that the photos and interpretive text supplied encouraged the teacher/child to do more for and with each other. Rinaldi (2001) added, ―Documentation is interpretation. It is a narrative form that offers those who document and those who read the documentation an opportunity for reflection and learning.‖ (p. 86) I did not use the word, ―discourse‖ with the children; I did share with them about the concept of ―talking during the learning process.‖ Using photographs showed the children that ―talking‖ is much more than speaking; it is body posturing, attitude, representation, etc. It allowed the children‘s acts of interaction and the co-construction of community visible. Harper (2000) uses visual images to inform his narratives. ―Photography can produce data that can enlarge our understanding of sociological processes.‖ (p. 727) Harper (2000) continues that ―every visual narrative involves a decision concerning how much information to include.‖ (p. 724) In the learning spaces, I was photographing children as they negotiated the space-specific expected discourse of many classrooms and outside spaces. Many times, the children were in charge of their own learning; however, this was not always the case. This is why the teachers‘ discourse became an important

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element of the study. As in choosing the pieces of a mosaic, not all ceramic chunks are selected. Over the 500 photographs taken, I was careful to consider what kinds of photos would help me tell the story of Appalachian children co-constructing the community discourse. I was glad I was not the only photographer, however. Simply on a practical level, some of the best photographs were taken by children. Also, due to the nature of our spreading out during the outside data collecting, I was not able to be everywhere at once. Like the use of the audio recorders, the children documented the action as it was occurring. Over time, I incorporated into this project the photographs of both Appalachian and non-Appalachian children for many reasons. As a school outsider, I wanted the children to represent themselves as best they could. I could have easily only taken pictures that supported a theory I had constructed. For instance, if I believed that the Appalachian children were disenfranchised throughout all inside learning spaces by their teachers, I could have waited for the moment that they most looked unproductive and use these opportunities to fully represent the children. By allowing many of the children to take the pictures and then explain them to me, I was allowing them to share in the process of both self-representation and peer representation. In this way, I was conducting member checks as I collected the data so I learned the children's meanings for their actions. I encouraged children to add their own photos and interpretations. From a simple heading that restated the rules we were applying, children selected photos that they thought showed our three rules. I included only one photograph that focuses on ―taking care of others.‖ The display itself contained eight photos with child/teacher interpretation attached to each. It was our first look at how we were ―constructing‖ a discursive community.

Multiple Discourses: Does Space Matter? As I sat in Sues‘ room on a cold February morning observing a lesson on ―Earth, Sun, Moon Relations,‖ several things occurred to me after I heard the following exchange. Monday, February 19, 2007, 10:12 a.m. Sue: Think of revolution and orbit as the same thing. (placing hand on model orbiter) Now, who can tell me which direction Earth orbits around the sun? (looking around)

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Annabelle? You probably will get this. Annabelle: (turning flushed) I dunno. Sue: Now, think… (looking around again) Dave? Dave: um…clockwise? Sue: You surprise me too…No, (speaking dramatically while smiling) Well, if it‘s not clockwise, it‘s…? (scanning the room as most hands shoot up and many children shout out ―counter-clockwise‖ enthusiastically. Sue spies a child who wasn‘t excited.) Noah, what has to be the answer? Noah is looking at the back of the room towards the tinted windows. He raises his head up… Noah: Clockwise? (hoping he said the right answer) Sue: What? You weren‘t even listening, were you? Noah: Yes I was, I just get the words confused a bit. Sue: You need to pay more attention in here. Are you like that with other teachers? Noah: (defensively) No! Sue: Well, then you need to change your mind set in here.

Noah could be challenge, but how much of his behavior was truly ―his behavior‖ versus a reaction towards Sue? In no way have I ever blamed Sue for continually challenging Noah, but the continual confrontation was challenging for me to observe. Then something occurred to me. I questioned the relationship these two people shared and if Noah was truly different in other classes. I wondered if he changed with other teachers in other learning spaces. Like some of the other Appalachian children who had frequent behavioral ―rough patches,‖ he could be completely endearing at certain times and frankly badly behaved on other occasions in this room. Were these children consistent throughout their day in their attitudes about schooling and behavior, could they ―switch on a dime,‖ or did they more realistically mediate between these two poles? I was anxious to find out, so I asked Sue, Rebecca, and Emily if I could observe their classrooms. Before they responded, I reminded them that my main goal was to listen to the children and observe their discourse. They immediately agreed to allow me that opportunity. Even though the observations occurred prior to the identification of the Appalachian children, I took field notes and audio recorded all the groups of children in each class. I now only use data regarding the identified Appalachian children or data that includes interactions between Appalachian children and the teacher or Appalachian children and other children.

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The Mathematics Room The first time I entered Rebecca's mathematics room, I stood and stared. It was so unbelievably different from Sue's room. Whereas Sue's walls were cream, her cabinets were dark oak, and the decorations were modest, Rebecca's room was neat-as-a-pin, open, inviting, and just plain bright. Rebecca was a master organizer and every storage tub, shelf, nylon tote, and cubby was beautifully labeled with carefully-written dot letters. Reflective Journal Entry, February, 15, 2007, 7:33 a.m. I am sitting in Rebecca‘s room at her ―kitchen table.‖ The room is bright, cheery, ―homey,‖ and encouraging. I wish I had math teachers like her in rooms like this when I was attending school. She begins this lesson by standing at the chalkboard and she draws a circle. The children are a new mix to me, and I‘m actually observing for the first time children interacting in new ways. This group is basically the same as Sue‘s second period group, the ―low‖ group. There is definitely a different ―vibe‖ in this space.

Could this room actually encourage excitement and interest, or was it simply a matter of this teacher‘s encouraging personality? Whatever was the case, these children were eager to be here in this room on this day.

February 15, 2007, 7:48 a.m. The children are excited today, and from glancing at the weekly calendar on Rebecca‘s wall, there is no apparent reason why they should be—no special events, no field trips, no assemblies, not even snow or a full moon. They have nothing to look forward to as today is yet another day of inside recess and test prep. There is an undeniable, palpable ―buzz‖ in this room that seems unrelated to the wafting aroma of pecan waffles coming from the now-lit scented candle behind Rebecca‘s desk. As hard as I try to focus on the children, my attention keeps returning back to Rebecca. Seeing her interact with the children, I immediately sense that her teaching style is much different from both Sue‘s style and mine. During this lesson on pie graphs, she stands smiling at the dry erase board and sings.

Rebecca: ―Bye, bye, Miss America Pie.‖ (Children laugh.) Who has heard that song? (Many children raise their hands.) I know I can‘t sing, but that‘s not the point. The point is that you need to appreciate a pie chart. So to help you do that, I‘m going to show you something. (Rebecca walks to the refrigerator and with Angie‘s help, takes out three double- crusted pies in cardboard boxes.) (The children all sit up as some children impulsively run back to the kitchen area.) Rebecca: (Standing at the table next to me, where she places the pies, she adds…) I have a peach pie, one apple, and a (reading box) mixed berry pie. Are all pie charts actually made of pie? Noah? Noah: No, but I wish. (Children agree.) Rebecca: Noah, why do we use pie charts? (Looking around for hands, but only Benjamin continues to raise his hand.) Noah?

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Noah: I know that pie charts show…uh…. (he verbally fumbles)…how much of something there is… Rebecca: Okay, who can elaborate on that answer? Noah: (blurting out) Frequency! That‘s‘ it. Rebecca: (Walking to Noah and placing her hand on his shoulder in an affirming manner) Great job!

Rebecca continued to discuss frequency with the children. She made a point of touching all the children on their shoulder, arm, or head as she walked around the room. The lesson continued as the children created a bar graph of how many people preferred each pie type. As the children completed their bar graphs on individual dry erase boards at their seats, Rebecca finished completing her bar graph on the board. Rebecca: Now, comes the best part...the eating. (Children literally jump out of their seats with joy!) How can we turn the bar graph we just made into a pie chart or pie graph? Amber? Amber: (in a most animated and enthusiastic manner) You can take the number of people and change that into percentages. There are (counting the people in the room)…20 people here today and 12 like apple…so that‘s 60 %. Rebecca: Excellent mental math calculating, Amber! How many of you could have done that? (Many children raise their hands.)

As I watched the lesson unfold, I struggled to believe what I saw. I literally stopped watching and started writing the following journal entry. Reflective Journal Entry, February, 15, 2007, 7:56 a.m. Am I in an episode of the Twilight Zone, or did aliens abduct Amber? She‘s a totally different kid in this class. She‘s actually engaged, pleasant, and…smart! How can that be? Is she acting in here or is this the real her? This space, teacher, group of children, or subject matter has motivated her like I‘ve never seen before.

I sat as I took it all in. In my twenty-three years of teaching, I never imagined that children could change so dramatically. I simply assumed that a child consistently communicated across subject matter lines and that the variables of space, experience, group, etc. were insignificant. I always assumed that children were socially naïve not to ―perform‖ in certain manners with particular people. I know that one case with one child cannot lead to generalizations, however, on this day, Amber was a different child than every other time I had seen her. I will definitely search for other cases of this ―discourse discordance‖ with Amber and other children.

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Angie grades online math assessments as Rebecca talks to a child.

April 2, 2007 As I had previously made arrangements with Rebecca to observe the students in her classroom, she came to me the morning of the observation and told me that she wouldn't be teaching math on that day. Due to a last-minute change in scheduling, the children would attend an assembly on cartooning. A professional award-winning children's book illustrator lived near the school, and all of the fifth grade classes would go to the gymnasium to hear him speak about drawing. Rebecca told me that he then would come back to each classroom and spend 30 minutes having the children cartoon with him. Although she suggested I reschedule as I wouldn't see her teach, I decided to go ahead and attend the assembly and then come back to her classroom to cartoon with her children. I thought it may be interesting to observe them during a nontraditional experience. After an interesting and informative hour in the gymnasium with Mr. Hoffman, the cartoonist and illustrator, Rebecca's class was immediately slated to have him visit with the children. The children were extremely excited to have him visit the classroom. Anyone who performs in school assemblies rises to celebrity status with the children shortly thereafter. Mr. Hoffman was unbelievably personable with children as well. Using white chalk on the green chalkboard in Rebecca's classroom, he sketched some basic lines which form the beginning of the simple smiling caricature face. The children copied it verbatim onto their white paper with pencils at their desks. Within 10 minutes, Mr. Hoffman had encouraged the children to create their own cartoon figures of people in the

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room. This experience was astonishing because the children interesting and detailed cartoons within minutes. As the children created their own caricatures, Mr. Hoffman went to each child and drew a caricature of anything or anyone they wanted. The children overwhelmingly chose dogs and cats; pigs and cows; monsters and gremlins. I walked around the room as I encouraged and admired the children's artwork. As Mr. Hoffman arrived at Paul's desk, Paul stood and whispered something in his ear while cupping his mouth to hide what he was saying. He glanced at me three times in the 10 seconds he spoke to Mr. Hoffman. Before I knew it, Paul was laughing out loud at his seat. He said, "Boy, you're good! That looks just like him." The next thing I knew, Mr. Hoffman has sketched a caricature of my head for Paul. Paul proudly called me over to his seat. Paul: Hey Mr. Scott, come over here... come over here! I've got something to show you that I think you'll like. Terry: (Glancing at the sketch as I speak.) Holy cow, Paul... that's me! Mr. Hoffman drew me, and I'm rather complemented by it. No gray hair and no wrinkles. (Looking to Mr. Hoffman.) You‘re talented; I can tell you have a lot of practice doing this. Paul: Mr. Scott, do you think it needs anything else? Terry: I don't Paul, what else would you add to it? Paul: I might color it in a little.

I continued to walk around the room as the children finished their pictures. They also excitedly discussed the drawings that Mr. Hoffman sketched for each of them. As Rebecca thanked him for coming to her class, and struck off and started walking out the door, Paul enthusiastically ran to me as I stood talking to Angie. Paul: Mr. Scott, I improved it. It now has color. Terry: Yes Paul, it certainly does have color. Angie: Oh Paul, what have you done? Paul: It looks just like you, Mr. Scott. And I'm going to give it to you because you are so nice. Terry: Truly I do not know what to say, Paul. I'm speechless.

Paul proudly handed me the picture below. Paul was perhaps unaware that by using a brown Crayola marker, I would appear to be of a different race. One might assume after viewing the picture, he may have alternatively been unaware of race. Perhaps to Paul, skin color was irrelevant as he was truly "colorblind." While I may have originally thought that Paul didn't see race immediately after this incident, after my discussion with

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him regarding the "n word" months later on the walk to the Country Dale Creek and to be described later in this chapter, I personally didn't feel this was the case in retrospect. Perhaps it was just an accident that Paul chose the wrong marker color and once he started coloring, he realized he had to finish the picture or toss it into the garbage. Either way, this was yet one more example of data which elaborated on Paul's rich Appalachian discourse.

Paul adds to the artist‘s caricature of me.

After several more similar observations in Rebecca's room, I concluded that Rebecca set the stage for learning in her teaching space. I was convinced now more than ever that a teacher‘s classroom is basically an extension of them and what they value. Whereas Sue's science room was no-frills, somewhat messy, and practical with many plants and animals—similar to other science labs I have visited in years past—Rebecca's room was a reflection of her personality and her subject matter. The mathematics classrooms in the schools I attended in the 1970s were completely no-nonsense. Somehow, things have changed in this new millennium. I've worked with many middle school mathematics teachers in the past decade and many of them have become child-centered and motherly. Their classrooms were an extension of their homes. These women frequently distribute tangible rewards and food to their

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students, decorate their classrooms with homey accents, and nurture their students with frequent touching, compliments, and "positive strokes." Rebecca fits this mold to a tee. How have we turned to making the teaching of mathematics more art than science? In the 1970s, mathematics teachers had little accountability. If a child did not perform in mathematics, even in elementary school, it was his or her fault. Over the past decade, teachers have resorted to doing whatever it takes to get their students to pass the state mandated standardized tests. Children still struggle with mathematics, but the shift of blame has now been entirely placed on the teachers. Mathematics instruction now must be engaging, relevant, and even entertaining to children. Sue has traditionally outperformed all of her fifth grade colleagues on science standardized tests. As a result, unlike Rebecca with mathematics, Sue has the freedom to teach a she wants. These children have also traditionally performed well in language arts, so language arts instruction has been much more relaxed. Of the four tested academic areas in the elementary school grades, citizenship or social studies has traditionally been viewed as the least rigorous subject area to teach. New teachers who have been deemed "ineffective" are often put with the charge of social studies instruction. Emily Roe was one such teacher. In her first year, Emily did everything she could to encourage her students to pass the citizenship test. Emily did, indeed, accomplish this task in different ways from her two veteran teaching colleagues.

The Social Studies Room I first met Emily on the back-to-school night in early September. Immediately before we stood and were introduced to the fifth grade families, Emily expressed that she was anxious. I immediately and instinctively said, "This must be your first year teaching." She informed me that it was and that she had just been hired three weeks prior in early August. Every encounter I since had with Emily left an indelible positive mark. In the five months that I conducted the data gathering, Emily professionally impressed me. She possessed the confidence of a veteran teacher. She came into this experience late in the summer, but an onlooker would never guess that. Her room was decorated to perfection, she had a calm demeanor, and never once did I observe her "stress out" over anything. When I asked Emily if I could observe students in her room, she told me I could come at any time. I thought I had figured out Emily‘s teaching style before I

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observed her. I imagined that Emily, like Rebecca, would be the ―fun‖ teacher because she is so funny and engaging personally. I was quite surprised to discover I hadn't figured her out at all. Reflective Journal Entry, February, 17, 2007, 7:39 a.m. So far, Emily's pretty traditional in her teaching style. Although I've only been in this room less than ten minutes, I've heard Emily ―shush‖ children at least five times. In this lesson on map skills, the children have small individual maps of the United States at their seats that match the large map that Emily pulls down on her board. The lesson is directive; all the students do is find a location that she tells them to find on a map. While I would think that would be fine for beginning map skills lesson, Emily told me when she walked over to me once that, "The kids love this activity. We've done it many times." If it's my presence in the room, or my naïveté of social studies instruction, but I don't think the kids love it at all.

Emily was a dedicated teacher. She was not the teacher who put lessons together last-minute. Like her classroom, Emily functioned on order. Her teaching style—her body posture, the articulation and preciseness of her speech, her seemingly planned reactions—was all formal. Most striking to me was how the students responded to this formal demeanor. It was if they had learned to ―follow the rules‖ early on in the year, and by the time I began observing in January, their behavior and their discourse were as neatly categorized as the rows of scented candles behind Emily‘s desk. February 17, 2007, 9:41 a.m. These children sit and wait patiently. They wait with caution; they wait for the next part of the lesson; they wait for Emily's reaction to something they have done or said; they wait to be allowed to work on an assignment; they wait to take turns in sharing the class‘s school supplies. They simply wait. They talk little, and when they do talk, they whisper. Even the "squirmy kids" magically transform into quiet listeners when they follow the rules. Emily has set up this regional map skills activity so there is no room for deviation in the students‘ actions, communication, or even thoughts. There clearly is one right answer. Emily knows it and it is her job to make sure the children know it as well. Interestingly, the notion of regional states is subjective. It cannot be taught as fact. For example, Ohio is considered Midwestern in some sources, Northeastern in other sources, and a Central State according to other sources.

9:54 a.m. Emily has been calling out a city or state and the children must reply with the correct region.

Emily: Petey, Houston. Petey: Um… Southwest? Emily: Correct. Ruth, South Carolina. Ruth: Southeast. Emily: Correct. Ruth, have you ever been to South Carolina? Ruth: No. (shyly) I've only been to Kentucky and Ohio. Emily: (laughs) You need to get out more! Ruth blushes and sits down.

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Jerry softly tells the children at his table: I've been to Myrtle Beach! Emily: Shh, Jerry, were trying to get some work done. Aaron, Akron. Aaron: Northeast? Uniqua: Midwest! We discussed that in class. Emily: Shh, Uniqua! You need to listen more and not shout out. Emily: Midwest.

As seen in the above discussion transcription, the children have learned in this inside space that truth exists. Ideally, this lesson should be an opportunity for children to determine the process of geographic data-finding for themselves. This lesson format, coupled with Emily's directed, behaviorist teaching style, has instead become a guessing game for the players. Like the parlor game 20 Questions, there is one knower with all of the knowledge and many questioners who want the knowledge. The children's discourse, regardless of ancestral heritage, has been transformed into softly spoken statements. Lacking confidence, the children are unsure of the entire learning process in this room, their statements become questions. Whenever they talk, the pitch of each sentence raises at the end to indicate the asking of a question. As a result, the children are wrapped up in ―getting it right;‖ what they're actually learning is not the material but simply how to play the game by the rules.

Emily teaches the children about westward expansion. The two smaller pictures are of her during the lesson and the larger one is before the lesson. Emily is determined when she teaches.

March 3, 2007…8:34 a.m. In talking with Emily before class, she shared that she worked on this lesson for over four hours the night before. She created a game for her students to play about westward expansion. This was going to be the beginning of a lesson that she would conduct for her Praxis Observer the next day. Praxis is Ohio's teacher accountability program for first year teachers. After a series of observations from an outside teacher observer, beginning teachers are asked to conduct a final lesson with a list of expectations. The teachers have to pass in the end to get a teaching certification. They are 202

encouraged by their teaching coaches within the building to do what is necessary before the observation to ensure the observation‘s success. Wanting to make sure that all the students were clear on the game rules, Emily wanted to "set the stage," and do one round of practice today in preparation for tomorrow's observation. This lesson begins with a discussion of the explorers Lewis and Clark. The children sit in silence as Emily talks. Clearly, she's the expert in the children's responsibility is to simply sit, listen, and gather information. It is modeled after the game show, "Jeopardy!" Like the real game, Emily has created a game board on her chalkboard. In Jeopardy, the game board opens with six topics containing five questions each. In the Final Jeopardy Round, all three players are given the chance to risk all or part of their game winnings to answer a final question. The children have to answer correctly in the form of a question. Emily: When I'm observed tomorrow, I need you to be on your best behavior. You will listen to my every word and sit quietly. If I determine your behavior is ideal, you will be invited to have a special pizza lunch with me on Thursday. This lunch is by invitation only. Boys and girls, how do you get an invitation? Children: (in excited voices) By behaving… listening… sitting quietly. Emily: Okay, shh! Settle down. This is our secret and certainly you will not let the observer know that we have this deal going, right? Children: (in staggered voices) Sure, alright, you bet. Fergie raises her hand. Emily: Do you have a question, Fergie? Fergie: Yeah... What if someone else causes you to lose your invitation to the pizza meal? Emily: Great question! I guess you had better make sure that everyone around you plans to earn their invitation. In other words, everyone at your table needs to be following the rules.

"The Rules" were clearly defined in Emily's classroom. I was intrigued that, of the many lessons observed in this classroom space, it was completely evident that Emily spent much time in lesson preparation. Lesson planning is a major component for new teachers. More intriguing, however, was how Emily transformed possibly inquiry-based experiences into regimented, directed lessons to be learned. As I sat and listened to Emily's warning to the children about their behavior, I was keenly inquisitive to discover how much room she would give these children to talk during the game. I waited, listened, and recorded. Emily: Kelsey, it's your turn. Kelsey: I'll take Indian Tribes for 200. Emily: We were the first Indian tribe that Lewis and Clark encountered on their journey. Kelsey: I know this one…Sioux!

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Emily: I'm sorry, that needs to be in the form of a question. Remember the rules… you have to answer in the form of a question. Kelsey returns to her seat defeated. Emily: Lulu, it's all you. Lulu: (with confidence) I'll take Women for 1000! Emily: We were the two women who saved the expedition from almost certain death as Lewis and Clark reached the Pacific Ocean. Lulu: (self-assuredly) Who were Sacajawea and Watkuweis! Emily: Outstanding! That was the right thing to say... and we didn't even go over both of those women in class. You get to go again. Oh by the way boys and girls, I will be giving out Rowe Bucks after the lesson tomorrow for people who sit quietly and listen. LuLu: I'll take Geography for 1000. Emily: Lewis, Clark, and the entire expedition were shocked to see none of these on the Great Plains. LuLu: (pausing while thinking) … Hills? I mean, what are hills? Emily: Oh, I'm sorry, but if hills had been correct your answer would have been incorrect…why? Lulu: But I turned it into a question eventually! Emily: We don't have to worry about that, anyway. The answer was trees. Lewis and Clark and the entire expedition had seen trees every day until they hit the planes… we discussed that at length. LuLu: (sitting down) Oh man!

This dialogue was representative of the social studies experiences of the fifth grade children. As down-to-earth Emily was around teachers, her interaction with children was entirely different when she was teaching a class. Emily "performed" teaching during the multiple observations I conducted in her classroom. Her classroom was also a place of capitalist business practices. As in capitalism, those who produced the most―in this case correct answers, attitudes, and language―were rewarded the most. Those who didn't produce or didn't follow the rules were punished. Emily's commodification of the learning process had a direct effect on the children's discourse. As there was correct discourse, those children who could quickly determine the fastest route to discursive correctness by playing by the rules were the winners of the game. In essence, children were immediately rewarded for "getting it right." How could children from marginalized cultures negotiate their way through the game in time to compete with children whose cultural backgrounds were similar to Emily's? As in the cases of Lulu, Patrick, and Fergie, speedy mastery could occur. Unfortunately, these children were the

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exception in this learning space filled with fresh scents, comfortably-padded oak furniture, and primitive American folk art prints.

Inside Spaces Conclusion Inside learning spaces matter. This was the main finding of the four months inside observing rural children preparing for a nationally-mandated standardized assessment. A second finding directly linked to the first one was that teachers also matter immensely in how middle school children present themselves and their discourse. In the five months of data collection, I determined that inside learning spaces in the form of classrooms were basically extensions of the teacher's personality. Being social beings, most children were adept at quickly learning the expectations of each classroom teacher and therefore mastering the discursive expectations of each of those teachers. Not all children made such an easy transition between inside learning spaces. A final conclusion from the study determined that culture matters in children's discourse. Children of Appalachian descent walked an often-challenging road to the construction of knowledge in a group where they weren't of the same cultural ancestry of the teacher. Teachers often saw these children as inferior to the other children because of their background, socioeconomic class, spoken and written dialect, and perceived inability to grasp the learning game efficiently. I will expand upon each of these findings in detail at the end of this chapter. I now turn to experiences that take the same children outside as the focus changes from inside test preparation to both inside and outside experiential learning during the stream monitoring unit.

The Outside Learning Spaces

The Stream Unit Begins When May arrived, the data collection took on a whole new level of meaning. Sue had promised that the children would frequently go outside when the weather turned "nice." Unfortunately, due to the bizarre winter weather patterns—record-breaking high temperatures throughout December followed by an intensively long, cold winter ending in continual freezing through late April—the children were forced to stay inside. Realistically, testing preparation dominated every moment. Since stream monitoring

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would not be assessed on the paper and pencil tests, there was no immediate advantage for us to go outside. The test determined everything. After the test, with the warming outside temperatures, things changed dramatically for everyone influenced by this project. As Sue stated, "Terry, I‘m devoting the entire month of May through the end of the school year to your research. You can do whatever you need to do. You are now in charge of science.‖ Literally, events quickened on the Monday following the last day of testing. My role radically changed from observer/researcher to teacher/researcher. Teachers relaxed and wondered aloud what they would do for the rest of the year. Most dramatically, the children relaxed as thoughts and attitudes turned towards the out-of-doors. It had been a long winter and we were all ready to get outside away from testing, an overly warm classroom, and into new experiences involving new spaces. While photographs proved to be a serendipitous part of data in this project, the audio recordings not surprisingly proved as valuable. As I have previously stated, this project would have never occurred had it not been for the financial support of the zoology department and its contribution over $10,000 for technology and training. As the Appalachian children would later discover during their self-generated stream inquiry activities, a research question is only as good as the researcher(s) being able to collect the data. If the data can't be accurately collected, the question cannot be investigated. With the thirteen digital audio recorders, I was able to accurately and precisely record the children's rich and often interesting conversations in the streams when I was not immediately at hand. Although I would have liked to have spent more time outside earlier in the data collection period, the stream unit occurred after the Appalachian children had been identified. Therefore, I was able to solely focus on the discourses of these identified children. Children are social beings. When given a new experience or a familiar experience with new people, children often attach meaning during the learning process as they make connections to the familiar. After extensive data analysis, I learned much from the Appalachian children and how they made connections as they interacted in outside spaces. Without a doubt, they taught me much more than I ever taught them. The following sections describe these children's discourse. Due to the nature of this project,

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and the fact that I was not usually present when the children were talking about streams, I was delighted to discover that Appalachian children created a unique discursive community due to their comfort in streams and their previous extended exposure to being in outside spaces. As these children spent so much time outside at-home, they were undeniably "experts" outside in nature at school. I saw that the children were distinctly Appalachian during the outside stream monitoring activities in three fascinating ways. The first theme I detected was that of a cultural attachment to place. The Appalachian culture became visibly and audibly obvious through the children's discourse in the creeks. Specifically, their experiences and attachment to familiar spaces shaped how they looked at these outside learning spaces and what they said. The second theme in the spaces was these children's connection to the social groups most familiar to them including their churches and families. More so than any discussion inside, family members were frequently mentioned during the creek monitoring activities. The third theme focused on the Appalachian children's connection to animals. These children often were able to distinguish specific animals they discovered as they interacted with one another outside of the school. While some of the children misidentified the animal species, they at least felt confident as they attempted the identification process. I now explore each of these themes as I share data examples of the children's discourse.

Appalachian Children and a Connection to Place In the study, I discovered that Appalachian children had rich experience experiences in the out-of-doors. This was usually shared through "travel talk." Travel talk was what was being said during the times were traveling to the creek destinations. Conversations, although brief, were lengthier during these times because the children had "time to kill" and they were free to discuss what they wanted. Bus rides proved an interesting opportunity to hear about previous experiences with creeks. During the bus ride to East Branch River, I overheard many conversations regarding "Creek Talk.‖ It seemed that these children, especially the Appalachian children, spent much of their time during warm weather exploring creeks. In their excitement, the children discussed their past experiences. Sitting in the seat behind me were Petey and Keith.

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May, 11, 2007… approximately 8:42 a.m. Petey: You've been over to my creek before, haven't you? Keith: I haven't come over to your house, but you live next to Jason, don't you? I've been in his creek (crick) tons! Once we found a crawdad… it was the size of a kitten. Petey: Dude, no way! I've got some big crawdads in my creek before, but nothin‘… Keith: I swear to you, Petey, I'll come over to your creek and we‘ll find some. I mean, they‘re not the size of a cat, although that would be so awesome... but they‘re huge! Petey: Have you gotten bitten by one before? Keith: Yeah! One once bit my finger and wouldn't let go, and I started bleeding. Petey: I hope we find a lot of those today!

Petey at the Country Dale Creek with a Two-Lined Salamander, Eurycea bislineata.

Goliath sat next to me in my seat on the same bus ride. Usually a quiet boy, Goliath magically became quite verbose regarding the topic of creeks. He heard the previous conversation about crayfish.

May, 11, 2007… approximately 8:45 a.m. (quietly speaking to me) Goliath: Mr. Scott, my grandpa has a creek… Terry: Where is this? Goliath: In Kentucky… and I've gone there... and I've caught crawdads as big as the one they're talking about. He's also got these fish that are really cool... they have rainbow-striped sides… Terry: How big were they? Goliath: Little… maybe… couple of inches... but I saw maybe 25 all at once. Terry: I think you've described Rainbow Darters. Goliath: I don't know what they're called… my cousin William just called them Rainbow Fish. Terry: How old is William? Goliath: I think he is about 28. He's in prison now.

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Both Petey and Goliath had spent time in streams, and because we were going to one, they were using their prior experiences to establish what they had already learned. These prior creek experiences had been an important contribution to the boys‘ construction of learning and sense-making. These exposures had introduced them to animals that could not have been seen without direct contact in freshwater habitats. I thought it was telling that the boys, just by the fact that they were sitting near me on the bus, had stream-related conversations with one another and with me. Who else was talking about creeks during the bus ride? Most likely many more children ―talked this talk.‖

We arrive at Stone Hill Creek—the first stream site to collect data.

Appalachian boys were not the only ones to of had prior creek experiences. I discovered in talking with the boys early on that they, like their families and friends, were drawn to creeks because they were "cool." To the boys, cool was defined as anything they could actually do in the creeks. In the words of Patrick, doing meant "catching stuff, getting wet, and messing around" (May 11 Field Notes). Reflective Journal Entry, May 11, 2007, 11:19 a.m. Boys learn by doing. I can safely say after having watched these fifth grade boys for the past four months, boys learn by messing around. Unlike the girls, who seem to talk about ideas more often, boys just jump in and do it. They often "get in trouble" because they do before they think, and forcefully for me, they often say before they think as well.

While I observed that girls often preferred observing animals in streams, they too liked much to get wet. After we got off the bus and as we walked to that particular creek— Stone Hill Creek—I was the last adult following the entire group. In front of me a group of girls excitedly chatted about their creek experiences.

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May, 11, 2007… approximately 9:05 a.m. ChiChi: I better not slip today. Minerva: Why would you slip? Are those new Crocs? ChiChi: That‘s why! My mom just bought me these Crocs, but they're not real ones. Victoria: I hope we don't get carried away by the current. ChiChi: The happened to me, once. I was at a family reunion, and me and my cousins... we were creekin, but I think it was more like a river. I slipped and was taken down stream pretty fast. It was so scary but fun at the same time!

Lulu examines her discoveries while Goliath, Minerva, and ChiChi look on.

One of the most interesting and enlightening aspects of this research was the level of enthusiasm girls showed for getting into creeks. The enthusiasm was quite apparent in their discourse. While I cannot suggest that Appalachian girls were more enthusiastic than non-Appalachian girls in creeks, as that wasn't one of the questions I examined, I can say that the Appalachian girls were much more active in these outside spaces than they were inside. Again, their discourse was definitely affected. Besides actually just talking, they were talking about something in which they had rich experiences. They were discussing the familiar, and perhaps because it was familiar, these girls were not only able to discuss their experiences, they were able to push other children into deeper levels of thinking through their prior experiences and extended questions. For example, Lulu in the above photograph is about to discover she has a water penny on a small rock at the edge of the tub. When Minerva suggests that this insect is really just a leaf stuck to the rock, Lulu maturely asks her, "What makes you think that? I may have to disagree with you." In this way, Lulu was challenging Minerva‘s possibly naïve science ideas.

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Appalachian Children and a Connection to the Social The Appalachian children's culture emerged in their spoken discourse in outside spaces. While occasionally, the Appalachian children would reveal small glimpses into their cultural heritage inside, it was outside where these children spoke most often about things near and dear to them. Surprisingly, religious creek ceremonies were discussed more than once. As public school teachers shy away from the topic of religion, the children's religious beliefs and practices were apparently so much a part of their thinking process, they readily connected streams to baptism. On our initial creek walk, we monitored the Country Dale stream at the end of the testing week prior to the unit. The walk had the sole purpose of getting the children's jitters out. Prudence, out of nowhere, had the following conversation with me:

May, 7, 2007, 1:12 p.m. Prudence: This Creek reminds me of the one I was baptized in. Terry: (I immediately stopped taking pictures and gave Prudence all of my attention.) Oh? Was that recent? Prudence: Couple summers ago. It was so funny…my mom made me wear a dress, a dress in water! You're supposed to wear a bathing suit underneath... and she bought me this new white one, but it ended up being way too big. I had to wear my pink and green striped bathing suit underneath my white dress. I still had a white robe over all of that, but by the time I got up out of the water, you could see the stripes.

This baptism topic came up as naturally as if we were discussing what we were having for lunch. Like Prudence, experiences I have often trigger other memories as well. What Prudence seemingly didn't realize was that creek baptisms, at least in Grant County, were not that common. In fact, I had never heard of a single creek baptism in the county in my entire life. Even on this presumably scientific school experience, Prudence felt comfortable enough with me to share a humorous, and possibly embarrassing, story that introduced me to the specific religious events I had not considered. Having never been creek baptized, I have never given any thought to what one wears into the river. While standing in the creek, Prudence felt comfortable enough with me and the people around us to share that humorous story. On a separate occasion, after Sue and I walked to the Country Dale stream, she told me she had the most delightful conversation with her student, Ruth. They were discussing

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Memorial Day traditions, and Ruth shared with Sue that she planned to go back "home" the upcoming weekend. When Sue asked her what she meant by the word home, she told her that home to her was in eastern Kentucky. I was naturally excited to hear this. Then, in talking to Ruth, I discovered something even more amazing. Up until recently, her guardian grandfather was a Southern Baptist minister who frequently performed river baptisms. These baptisms occurred when they lived together in eastern Kentucky. I informally interviewed Ruth as we walked back from the Country Dale stream during the inquiry unit. Although she'd spoken probably five words to me inside the classroom, she became quite talkative when we discussed something familiar to her.

May, 22, 2007… 9:13 a.m. Terry: So Ruth, I understand that you recently lived in eastern Kentucky. Ruth: That's right… Terry: Where…do you know? Ruth: I grew up in Jackson County, Kentucky. Terry: Tell me about your grandfather, the same things you were telling Mrs. Ponder. Ruth: I was just telling her that he spent a lot of time in creeks. He baptized people in creeks and rivers. Terry: Does he still do that? Ruth: Since we moved up here, he doesn't; but they still do it at the church we go to. Terry: There‘s a church around here that still does that? Ruth: Yeah! (nodding her head up and down) Terry: Wow, that's so cool.

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Ruth and Prudence completing ―Crabby‘s Shack,‖ the stream habitat index during the data collection fieldtrip.

Reflective Journal Entry, May 22, 2007, 9:39 a.m. Today may be the best day I've had so far as I discovered that Ruth is directly linked to the Appalachian Mountains of eastern Kentucky. More amazingly, her grandfather has been a Southern Baptist minister. Although she's so infrequently spoken to me in the past, she definitely felt comfortable with me today as I talked about and showed interest in her life. I think most public school teachers would have never broached this topic, and I'm betting that she's never discussed that with anyone at school before. I could tell she was excited to discuss her ―kin‖ with me. She talked on and on about her grandparents and their religion.

Family was a continual theme in the Appalachian children‘s discourse as well. During the inquiry experience at the Country Dale stream, many of the children had a difficult time finding the needed organisms to conduct their studies. They readily discovered that choosing a question that could be answered is different from choosing a question where the needed organisms can be found. Unlike science conducted inside classrooms, when the science teacher typically provides all needed materials, conducting investigations and finding organisms in the wild is an entirely different process. Nate had no problem finding organisms for his project. He was so adept at life in creeks, he finished his investigation then he helped others find organisms for their inquiry activities. Here is a small fragment of the conversation that occurred on that afternoon.

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May, 24, 2007… 1:09 p.m. Terry: What's wrong Emily? Emily: I can't find a stinkin‘ thing that I need out here! I'm getting frustrated because Lillian and Victoria have left me and are not including me in anything! They have all the tubs; all I have is a little net. Derek: (who was nearby but in a different group) Emily, what do you need? Emily: We need four crayfish... that's it, just four. Derek: Go talk to Nate, he is right over there and he has a ton of crawdads. Emily: Thank Goodness! I'll even pay cash!

Then in a about a minute, the following conversation occurred:

Emily: Nate, how in the world did you get all those crayfish? Nate: It's easy; you just scoop up the sand and turn over rocks. Emily: Can I have some? I'll even buy them from you. Nate: Oh yeah? (looking at me and broadly smiling) I could be just like Forrest Gump and start shrimpin! (I laugh aloud.) Emily: You've obviously done this before, right? Nate: My brother and I do this all the time. We have even brought crawdads inside and put in our aquarium.

Like Nate, Patrick is in Science Club, and on the day that the science club investigated stream organisms, he had the following conversation with me on the way to the stream as we walked through the woods:

May, 1, 2007… approximately 2:52 p.m. Terry: Those are some big old boots, Patrick. Are those lined? Patrick: What is lined? Terry: Do they have a fur lining? Patrick: Yeah, they‘re really warm, especially today but they are good in the winter for hunting. I am just like my grandpa; I don't get cold in these boots. Terry: and your grandpa‘s like that? Patrick: Yeah… he passed away at the beginning of school, but he gave me these boots. Terry: Oh yeah, I did hear he passed away…I‘m sorry about that.

Reflective Journal Entry, May 1, 2007, 1:39 p.m... I realized today that I'm truly co-constructing this entire experience. Kathy Charmaz is right. We cannot entirely separate ourselves from our culture and especially from the people we study. For example, outside of Country Dale, I like clothing and I frequent notice what people are wearing. Alright, not frequently, always do I notice clothing. I certainly notice the children's clothing as well. As I'm more relaxed outside, "the real me" emerges.

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Patrick and Batista examine their net while sporting unique footwear.

Like the urban Appalachian children I taught in Canaan City Schools, many of these children define family through the members that constitute their family. I often discovered that family meant unmarried, live-in significant others of their biological parent. On that same walk, about five minutes later, Carson ran ahead and started talking with Igor and me.

Carson: Mr. Scott, can we run the rest of the way? Terry: Tell you what, we'll race and the loser has to announce that he's ―The Biggest Loser‖ in front of the entire class when we get to the creek. Carson: Okay, but you're pretty old; do you think you will be able to keep up? Igor: I bet Mr. Scott could win! Terry: Darn right I could… I am pretty fast. Carson: Not as fast as my mom's boyfriend… he ran track in high school. Terry: Well, that‘s a different matter!

Appalachian Children and a Connection to Animals

The Appalachian children had another interesting quality that was heard through their discourse. Their appreciation and awareness of animals was a constant theme in the Appalachian children‘s outside discourse. During the community stream data gathering field trip, the Appalachian children had extensive familiarity with animals we encountered in the river, and that the park next to the river. Working together in a small group was Benjamin, Albert, and Lucky. Benjamin was the only group member with an identified Appalachian ancestry. The boys were waiting their turn to enter the river as

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they sat on a picnic table by the river‘s edge. A Great Blue Herron had been wading in the water and when it saw our group, it flew overhead across the stream.

Lucky: (shouting out) Holy Crap! Do you guys see that thing? (About 40 children look up into the sky.) Albert: I think it's prehistoric... maybe a pterodactyl! Benjamin: (laughing) It's no pterodactyl, but it's probably related to one. It's a heron, you guys; it is scared off by your screaming. Albert: Man, I'm gonna be the one scared off and screaming in a minute!

Later in the river, the same group of boys discovered several interesting organisms. To my surprise, Benjamin was able to identify one of them correctly. As he misidentified the second organism, it was not shy about doing so. The boys were standing in a pool next to the bank.

Albert: (holding the net above the surface of the stream) Sweet! We got a ton of stuff with this big net! Benjamin: (as he lifts up the net and starts picking through it) Looks like we have some little worms in here. (Holding one in his hand.) I think it's one of those planarians Mr. Scott was talking about… Lucky: (yelling to another group) Hey Dean, we got some Planarians! Benjamin: (holding it up to the sun) Yep, it has the triangular head but it is so dang small, it's hard to see! It looks just like the picture on the paper.

All of the children were fascinated with the idea that an animal could regenerate itself after being dissected, so this was a particularly exciting find for these boys. They were the only group to find flatworms entire day, or for that matter, the entire month. A few minutes later, the following conversation occurred:

Rebecca Ringwald: (looking in their tub full of swimming organisms) Wow guys, you have some really cool things in here. You all actually found a clam it looks like. Lucky: Is that what it is? It doesn't exactly look like the picture on the paper. Benjamin: I think it's a Fingernail Clam that‘s gotten too big. The shell looks like it is wrinkly, just like your skin gets wrinkly when it's in the water too long. The organism was actually a freshwater muscle that is commonly found in Ohio rivers.

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Later that afternoon, in the same river, a small group of girls—Fergie, Ruth, Jamie, and Meriah—were more enthusiastic about science than I‘d ever seen them prior. Fergie and Ruth have Appalachian ancestry.

Meriah: Look you guys... our crayfish are fighting! Ruth: How do you know they are fighting? Meriah: Well, they both bumped into each other. They looked like they were fighting. Fergie: Stop shaking the tub, Meriah. How would you like it if you were being shaken around that much? No wonder they're fighting. Ruth: I wonder if it hurts to lose a claw... our big crawdad only has one claw, and I think it just fell off into the water. Meriah: I told you they were fighting. Fergie: Could it be that you caused the water to move so much that he came off?

As with these girls, some other girls expressed empathetic knowledge of animals on the Country Dale hiking trail on the way to the stream. Like looking at macroinvertabrates under a magnifying glass, gender and cultural differences became more obvious in outside spaces. Girls showed increased signs of cooperation and empathy not only with the animals, but also with each other. Whereas inside, there was much more peer tattling with girls, when they were outside, girls acted and spoke differently. The Appalachian girls encouraged each other more frequently outside, actively listened to one another; they constructively and openly disagreed.

Appalachian girls working closely together. The parent chaperones proved to be crucial to the success of the stream unit.

I usually led the class to the creek at Country Dale and Sue usually followed in the rear. However, to mix things up, we switched places, and in doing so I learned much. Boys typically lead the line and girls typically followed in the back of the line. Whereas

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inside, children walk close to one another, these traveling lines weren't really lines at all. We were greatly spaced apart and I discovered on that day the children who go to the back of this space enjoy the trip in different ways than the boys who typically race ahead. Ahead of me were three girls who seemingly enjoyed the journey to the stream more than the destination. I foolishly never imagined that the trip to the creek might be a highlight for some children, and I think this was the case with these girls.

Kelsie: (kneeling down off the path underneath the first wooden bridge) Oh look! Here's a toad! Shh... don't run, you'll scare her. Minerva: How do you know she's at her? Kelsie: She‘s small and cute… [Boy toads] are big and lazy and fat and… Martha: Oh… she's so small, what's her name? Kelsie: (thinking) Tasheena! Minerva: (laughing) Tasheena? Kelsie: Tahsheena the Toad!

Outside Spaces Conclusion If Appalachian children are to contribute to a community culture, and to the discourse of that culture, then outside learning spaces matter most. I determined in this project that the children‘s Appalachian culture emerged when they cooperatively worked together during citizen science and inquiry-based experiences in science. I uncovered some striking findings during the stream study unit. Appalachian children spent a great deal of time outside in their free time. As a result, the free time possibly contributed to their expertise about place and animals in the streams. The Appalachian children used their prior experiences observing animals to inform what they said during the unit. The children also readily made connections to familiar social groups including their families, churches, and friends in these outside learning spaces. Culture also matters to these children and to the way they discuss science. Through their freedom to talk more naturally outside, these children were able to connect their earlier experiences to what they were learning during the stream unit. The fact that the unit was about conducting inquiry-based science without a ―correct‖ answer was also an important component to their cultural contribution. The children‘s main concern focused on doing the procedures correctly during the citizen science lessons. The discourse of the same children was about critically solving problems and creatively

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finding solutions with one another during the inquiry experiences. The Appalachian children were able to use their previous experiences and cultural knowledge to creatively solve problems. Open spaces also afforded them the opportunity to work with each other in groups and candidly discuss their ideas.

The Interview Assignment Of the many stream-related experiences Sue and I created for the children, none of them helped me "tease out" the children‘s‘ culture. I needed to specifically determine how the Appalachian children related to streams and creeks. I also wanted to determine how the children‘s‘ families interacted with these bodies of water. As a former fifth grade social studies teacher, I have had my students interview family members in past years. These former students—regardless of school and without exception—benefited from this experience. In addition to having the children practice the process of conducting a semi- formal interview; it allowed them to have new conversations with the meaningful adults in their life about cultural and ancestral experiences. As a teacher, it gave me the opportunity to learn much about my students. When I created the Stream Interview, I ventured out onto a limb. I greatly expected the children to return on the assignment due day and tell me how no one in the family had experiences with streams. To me, this interview seemed so specific to the research project that by asking the children to find a family member of an older generation with any relationship to creeks or streams was like shooting clay pigeons in the dark. I might get a direct hit every once in a while, but for the most part, I expected to get few interviews returned. Thankfully, I was delightfully wrong about the children‘s enthusiasm for this experience.

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The stream interview handout asked many questions about culture.

The children embraced the opportunity to talk with family members. The interview showed that the Appalachian children and their families have varied and meaningful relationships with streams. So much relevant data was collected from this singular opportunity, it could be a dissertation in itself. I will elaborate on generated themes that emerged from the Appalachian children and their family members. The children also had the opportunity to attach family photographs to the interviews that depicted any family member of an older generation interacting with streams. With this request, more than going on a limb, I was going out on a twig as I again assumed the children would not be able to produce these photographs. These artifactual photographs proved to be the highlight of my data collection. These families not only interacted with

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these streams recreationally, but the cultures of the Appalachian families eventually emerged through a deep connection to water through family gatherings and religious rituals near creeks. In this section, I include the children's written discourse and the photographs which may have accompanied them. After careful analysis of these interviews, and with the help of Nvivo7 data analysis software, several recurring themes emerged from the interviews. An Appalachian sense of place was one of the main themes that almost every interview revealed. Childhood recreation was another predominant theme of the Appalachian children‘s relatives. Finally, a sense of nostalgia about stream ecology was clearly evident throughout the Appalachian children's interviews. There was a clear sense that streams used to be clean, but now due to society's growth and particularly overcrowding in once-rural areas, streams and lakes are no longer healthy. I will now carefully observe each of these areas as seen through the children's written transcriptions of the interviews.

Growing Up with a Strong Sense of Place and Tradition The parents of the Appalachian children revealed a strong sense of place through their interview answers. Like the children in the study, they were drawn to streams and creeks for recreational reasons and they attached fond memories to their creek experiences. Specific places served as learning spaces for these parents when they were younger. For example, Kelsey's father was first introduced to streams through his love of fishing. As seen in below photographs, he has passed on this enthusiasm to his daughters. Kelsey confidently touched animals in the streams without hesitation because she thought they were "rad" as a result. Kelsey and her father were close. ―As a kid, I spent a great deal of time around the water. I spent time wading, fishing, and swimming in a mountain creek near my grandma’s house in West Virginia. I also fished and swam in other rivers and lakes in Ohio, Kentucky and West Virginia.‖ Kelsey‘s Father

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Kelsey‘s father introducing his daughters to recreational fishing as a result of his positive experiences growing up in Appalachia.

Like Kelsey's father, Carson's grandfather frequently mentioned how much he loved his land here in Grant County and back ―home‖ in West Virginia. Here, he is seen looking out over the stream that runs through his property not far from the school.

―I think of playing in my grandfather’s creek.‖ Carson‘s Grandfather

As my awareness of the children's relationship to streams progressed, so did my knowledge that streams are often perceived as male spaces. The vast majority of the artifactual photographs brought in by the children contained male family members and approximately only 5% had adult women in them. Gender and place attachment to streams was equally seen in the interview transcripts of the Appalachian children's family 222

members. Paul's father, who attended many of the field trips outside of the stream unit with Paul, vividly shared his deep connection to streams through his spirituality. In the following quotation below, and in the accompanying photograph, Paul's father has observably contemplated his relationship to God, place and streams more than once. ―My grandpa had the most incredible creeks by his farm in Kentucky. We loved it there! I used to go to creeks with my dad when I was a kid. We would fish and catch crawfish…I think streams are important because God says they are important and it’s important to do as he commands. They are important because streams are the main source of life; they give us experiences that no other kind of water body can; and, they are proof that there is a God who created everything.‖ Paul‘s Father

Paul‘s father stands by a stream in Grant County, OH.

Fortunately, Paul's father passed his love and appreciation of streams onto Paul. Paul was undeniably comfortable, proficient, and focused when was near streams. Perhaps his frequent positive exposure to these outside spaces contributed to heightened connection to streams. Having a grandfather take a granddaughter to a creek is an amazing experience. Experiencing a creek connection on a spiritual level with your grandfather is an entirely different event. When Ruth brought this picture of her grandfather performing a stream baptism, she told me that she had many photographs like them. The next day, she brought in ten more, each uniquely highlighting the cultural significance of Appalachians and streams. On the second day, Ruth told me that she remembers the exact day and place

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where she was baptized in our stream. She said, ―It was on a cold day in May. It was so… (she paused) unforgettable.‖ When a child has that kind of the connection to a stream, I felt just a bit guilty about taking her into other streams as we focused on the logic of streams and not the spirituality. In a way, I felt as if that would be going into a church sanctuary in teaching children the physics involved in the cohesion of wine droplets in a ceremonial chalice.

Ruth‘s grandfather performing one of many stream baptisms in Appalachian Kentucky.

Streams as Childhood Recreation for Appalachian Girls Another interesting finding from the interview transcript data involved young girls and their recreational connection to creeks. As the girls are now women and mothers, many of the Appalachian girls‘ mothers, aunts, and grandmothers frequently spent time playing in streams. As seen through the interview responses, these Appalachian relatives were initially drawn to streams and creeks in their childhood or recreational activities. ―I lived along the Tennessee River. I used to ride across the river on a ferry to go to school. After school, I would go fishing at the creek with my brother.‖ Kitty‘s Mother

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Recreational fishing, often spur-of-the-moment and informal, was a topic that frequently could be seen in children's interviews of their relatives. According to the children's interview transcript data, these young women shared many commonalities. They all lived in rural Appalachia, they all had someone in their life to introduce them to streams and creeks, and the like boys close to them, they didn't hesitate to fully embrace creek experiences. Ruth's grandmother Prudence‘s grandmother and Lulu‘s mother, like their young ancestors in my study, recreationally enjoyed themselves in streams whenever they could.

―I waded in creeks barefoot and caught meno’s (minnows) and frogs near Jackson, Kentucky‖. Ruth‘s Grandmother

―I used to swim in the creek when the water would rise from the slight flooding and I always loved to go fishing with my dad.‖ Prudence‘s Grandmother

―I remember rafting, collecting crawdads, hockey on ice, and getting hit on sharp rocks.‖ Lulu‘s Mother Prior to seeing these informative interview transcripts and the many pictures which accompanied them, I was intrigued that the Appalachian girls were as willing and excited to get in streams just like the boys. Many questions arose after I had the opportunity to start making sense of all of this data. What was it about these Appalachian girls of

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multiple generations who feel at home handling often-perceived "gross" animals in outside spaces that are typically seen as masculine places? What about these outside spaces makes them masculine or feminine? Why are kitchens seen as feminine and garages seen as masculine? Likewise, why is it that streams are for boys and men while gardens are for girls and women? Why is nurturing living things gendered as is killing things? Would these girls change as they got older? Was this level of comfort culturally-specific? Did this interest and awareness of stream organisms emerge as a result of early creek exposure with family members? While I certainly could not answer all of these questions in this particular study, I perhaps could seek related answers in the future.

Nostalgic Ecology and Stream Health The answer to one question in the interview was startlingly and dramatically clear-cut with the Appalachian relatives from the non-Appalachian relatives. The final finding in the stream interviews was overwhelming. Appalachian family members of past generations waxed nostalgic on the topic of stream health. When asked, ―Are streams healthier now than they used to be or were they healthier when you were younger?‖ these Appalachian family members—without exception—agreed that stream health has only gotten worse. Kelsey's father explains why we should care about healthy streams. This man has seemingly thought about this issue prior to sharing this with Kelsey. ―Water is life. Without an adequate supply of clean water, plants, wildlife and people would suffer. We have the ability to purify water, even some pretty nasty water, so that we can drink it. However, we cannot repair damage to the environment once it has been done. Environmental damage must be prevented. Even though the environment can recover over time, some damage can never be repaired. Species that go extinct can never come back again.‖ Kelsey‘s Father

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Kelsey creeking with her father in West Virginia.

Other family members agree.

―Yes, it was healthy, but now it is not because of the pollution.‖

Ruth‘s Grandmother

―Yes, I think streams were healthy then. Now I believe the streams are dirtier because people pollute them with soap, oil, and garbage. People are not careful about what runs into streams now.‖ Goliath‘s Father

Goliath‘s grandfather in a Grant County stream with Goliath and his brother.

―I think everything was healthy when I was a child, but I don’t think they still are. The streams were so small; you couldn’t really put any vehicles in them.‖ Lulu‘s Mother

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Lulu and her family observing animals on a stream bank.

―I don’t think they are as healthy as when I was young. It’s because they are more people causing more pollution.‖ Carson‘s Grandfather

―Yes, in those days they were very healthy. I think they are not so healthy now. They are not taken care of like they were then; the river is very polluted now.‖ Aaron‘s Mother

Aaron‘s mother Pam with her boyfriend Charlie proudly displaying their recently caught common carp, Cyprinus carpio.

Questions again arise regarding this notable finding. Why were the Appalachian adults in the study convinced that water health has only gotten worse over the years? Could it be because they once lived in more rural, isolated places than today? Might they also perceive Grant County as being more polluted than where they lived as children? Do they equate population with stream health? Could they believe that with more motorized

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recreational vehicles, factories, and the increase of industry, streams have directly fallen victim to their direct causes of pollution? Do Appalachian adults have such a strong connection to their place of origin that anything outside of that original place seems flawed and less perfect? These questions have merit and contribute to the multilayered findings of the study that begins to piece together Appalachian culture and science discourse.

The Stream Inquiry Experience The final week of a stream monitoring unit was devoted to the children‘s own inquiry-based investigations. Each child had the opportunity to choose a question that could only be answered by designing an investigation dealing with some aspect of creeks and streams. The children could work alone or with a group of their choosing.

At the school‘s outdoor learning shelter, I ask the children to list stream questions that interest them.

I began this final unit activity by having the children generate questions that were of interest to them related to streams. We talked extensively about feasible questions and questions that could be realistically investigated during only the few remaining classes of the year. As I explained to the children, they would be entirely responsible for collecting accurate data, recording the data, and sharing what they learned with their classmates. I stressed that in sharing, they were encouraged to make their final presentations interesting, relevant to children, and each group had less than five minutes to present. Considering this was the second to last week of school and we had been outside in creeks

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for two and half weeks prior, I partially predicted that the children would be physically and mentally exhausted. I thought they would be tired from all of their previous testing and all of the physical demands that Sue and I had put them through in the two and half weeks before this final opportunity. Given the expressions on their face during the question and generating, I feel anyone would assume this.

The children interact under the shelter as they do inside the science classroom. Noah is equally bored in both spaces. Today is his birthday.

The children generated the following questions:

Student Generated Stream Questions Period One 1. How did animals get in water originally? 2. How do people pollute streams? 3. Why do mud mounds make you sick? 4. Why was the nitrate level green in stream two? 5. What makes a riffle?

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6. Why does foam or mosses form on a creek? 7. How do islands form? 8. Do all creeks have riffles? 9. How many creeks are in the U.S.? 10. When there is less water, are there fewer animals? 11. Are there less or fewer leeched and planaria in Clermont County streams? 12. When there are many crayfish, is it always a sign of healthier streams? 13. Do crayfish lay eggs? 14. Why did we find more invertebrates in stream two? 15. Can water animals survive in polluted streams?

Period Two 16. Why does mud make you sink? 17. Why do crayfish fight? 18. Why do crayfish swim backwards? 19. Do all creeks have big banks? 20. What forms a pool? 21. When a creek has more water, are there more animals? 22. Does water always flow in one direction? 23. Do all streams have currents? 24. How is a creek different from a river? 25. Is a riffle the same as a waterfall? 26. If there was no gravity, would water stay the same? 27. What makes a riffle? 28. Is a riffle dangerous to people? 29. How many healthy streams are in the U.S.? 30. How do islands form? 31. Are there bigger animals in pools and riffles? 32. Why do water creatures have exoskeletons? 33. Is it easier for you to fall in a creek than a in a pond?

Homeroom 34. Why is there yellow foam at the streams? 35. Why are there few leeches in the creeks? 36. Do crayfish lay eggs? 37. Can any of the water creatures live on land also? 38. Why does foam or moss float on water? 39. Do all creeks have crayfish? 40. How can a crayfish survive without water? 41. Why are there many islands at the North Fork River? 42. Why does moss make rock slippery? 43. Are there any aggressive animals towards each other in the creeks? 44. Why are rocks always slippery under water? 45. How do islands form? 46. Why in the creeks and river were there big sheets of rock in the creek as substrate?

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47. Why are there fossils near water and not on land as much? 48. Why do snails attach to the bottoms of rocks? 49. How many hellgrammites can you usually find in creeks? 50. Do crayfish have a way to distinguish each other? 51. How does the white foam form on water? 52. Why is the current so hard in the river and not so much in the creek? 53. Why do crayfish carry eggs on their tails? 54. Can crayfish identify their predators and prey?

Of these original questions, I narrowed the list to include the ones that I thought would be most conducive to the timeframe in which we worked. The students set out to complete their investigations. Overwhelmingly, all the children in the three classes had positive, yet often frustrating, experiences during this final two weeks of the unit. The most frustrating part of the entire experience for many of the children was their lack of being able to locate the needed macroinvertebrates suited to their question. The Appalachian children had varying responses to this opportunity. I will highlight several of them in the next several paragraphs. Noah surprised me during this experience. While he was "the best waster of time," according to Sue, he effectively got the job done. He chose to work alone. Like many of the children, his inquiry focused on preferred habitats of crayfish.

Noah learns about stream aquatic invertebrates.

Amber greatly surprised me as well. She was "selected" to be in a group of high ability achievers as all of her group members had been identified as being gifted. She

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gave it our all that is up until the final product. She was supposed to create a poster for her group and on presentation today, like everything else that seemed remotely like homework, she forgot it at home.

Amber works as a valued group member as her group assesses the riparian zone at a stream.

Dawn also works productively well with her team. Up until this point she and Amber were "best friends." But as is often the case, fifth grade girls have what seem to be daily disagreements. Being socially savvy, Dawn worked her way into working with again some high achievers. Dawn's science journal shows how she often invented names for the organisms that she collected.

Dawn and Katie take chemical measurements.

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Creek Walk with Paul and Berdy: May 25, 2007…12:33 p.m. In addition to the Appalachian children‘s culture emerging outside, so did their comfort in speaking to me. The more I mirrored their culture, the more of their culture became known. The children treated me as a peer outside. Walking to the creeks allowed for interesting, revealing, and informative discussions with the children. I often found myself in conversations I would never have inside with children. My role as ―teacher‖ transformed completely when we walked in the out-of-doors. There was an interesting conversation I recorded with Paul on an inquiry walk to the creek at the Country Dale

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site. It took about 7 minutes of quick hiking to get there. The following transcript represents a discussion that I found myself in with Paul and Berdy. Paul had just had a lengthy conversation with his intervention assistant, Angie Small. His eyes were beet red and his cheeks were tear-stained. In the 5 months of intimate contact with Paul, I had never seen him this upset about anything. While the following dialogue is lengthy, it is never-the-less the most insightful discussion I had in the five months of data collection.

Terry: So what happened? Paul: I was standing there doin nothing with Berdy (another fifth grader) on the playground here by the…metal bars of the monkey bars…and Dylan was making fun of the fact that, uh, Berdy and I are friends. Berdy: You see, Mr. Scott, I am moving this summer and I may not be back at this school. Terry: (To Paul) and you were totally innocent… Paul: I was totally innocent… a long time ago Berdy and I were best friends and… Berdy: Three years ago… Paul: Yeah, three years ago…but then Berdy and I got sad because we were going to miss each other because he had to move. Terry: So this was three years ago or today? Paul: Three years ago. Terry: So what happened today? Paul: I was right there by the slide and the monkey bars Berdy: Right under the monkey bars exactly. Paul: All I was doing was standing there doing nothing and just standing there. Amiee: (coming to me from behind) Mr. Scott, somebody is wanting you… (turning around). I don't know who she is or why she wants you. Terry: I do know her friend at least because she's in Nature Club… (to the girl walking briskly beside me) I'm Mr. Scott, and you are…? Girl: Lizzy. Terry: Lizzy, Oh Hi Lizzy. Great to meet you. (To Paul) So what happened today? You were standing there doing nothing… Berdy: I got pushed down and I fell down over the slide… Paul: Dylan pushed us both down… Berdy: (with an earnest expression as he recalls the facts) I got a wedgie because my underwear got hooked on the slide ledge… Terry (starts laughing)…I'm recording now, FYI. So… (laughing still) Berdy: Oh… Terry: Let's clean up the language… Paul: I was just standing there doing nothing and me and Dylan got into a fight and Dylan pushed Berdy down… Terry: Ooohhh…. (to Paul, still seeking clarification) So what did you do? Paul: I didn't do nothing, I… Terry: What were you accused of doing?

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Paul: Calling names…. Terry: Calling names? Calling names (repeating matter-of-factly) Paul: I went down there trying to help Berdy. Robbie runs up to me, I turn and slow my pace to listen to him. Berdy runs ahead with Paul. Robbie: Me and my mom came up here this past weekend and we saw and fed the baby geese. Terry: You fed them this past weekend? That's really cool! You fed them this weekend? What did they eat? Robbie: We have ducks at home that eat chicken feed, so they ate some of that… Terry: Good planning… Robbie: and they also ate peanut butter cookies… Terry: You fed them cookies? And they ate them? (To Robbie) That's not good for them. (seeing that I am no longer the line leader) Berdy, wait up… Paul: and somehow Berdy said "I hate you." Terry: Oh, so it involved Berdy today? Paul: Yeah… Terry: and that hurt your feelings… Paul: Yes! Terry: And what did you do? You hit him… (scoldingly) Paul: I didn't hit him. Berdy: He called me a Negro. Paul: (defeated and looking down) Yeah, a Negro. All I did was call him names. Terry: and that was the name that you chose? Paul: No, I then thought of the worst names I could imagine… Terry: It gets worse? There are worse names? Paul: I called him gay and lesbian. Terry: Interesting…and those are the worst names you can fathom.

At this point, Berdy (who is taller than me and is 11 years old) is running physically pushing me by this time as I attempt to lead the line. Terry: (I stop and turn around, laughing)…Stop, stop, son. You should not be touching people…Back up. Back up, Back up, Back up, Back up, Back up (saying funnily and fast). YOU SHOULDN‘T BE PHYSICALLY TOUCHING ME (with a laugh). Okay? Berdy: (Without a pause) …Can I touch you spiritually? Terry: (laughing quite loud while responding)... Yes, you can spiritually touch me, but not physically touch me. (Laughing out loud still.) Dylan holds his hands out as if casting a spell at me… Terry: Yes…(laughing) Thank you for spiritually touching me.

Clearly, culture emerged during walking times going to and from the creek. This conversation could have never occurred inside as in outside spaces, children‘s discourse rings truer to what they actually think and feel.

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The Final Presentations I wanted to have the children present their findings to the other groups as a culmination to the stream unit. Sue and I originally planned to have a family night with all of the projects on display, but the year simply ran out. Paul was one of the most impressive final presenters in the entire fifth grade. Sounding like Einstein giving a lecture, Paul was precise, seemingly knowledgeable, and confident. When it came time for questions, he fielded them like a Clinton with folksy anecdotes, humor, and maturity. As he was giving this oration, I turned to Megan, his intervention specialist, and asked, "Do you think he really did all that?" Laughing to me quietly, she said, "Isn't he the best b-ser you've ever heard in your entire life? Of course he's making all that up. I'm impressed though, and he gives me hope. He may just be able to b.s. his way through school.‖ I will address this comment and phenomenon later in the concluding chapter.

Paul explains his methodology to his classmates.

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Another interesting and insightful presentation was given by the three-girl group of Alicia, Lulu, and Amber. In this presentation, each girl took on a stereotypic character to share their stream results. Alicia was an urban rapper. Lulu was a hillbilly (her words). Amber was a dumb blonde. I found this presentation insightful as these girls took on stereotypes that some of them actually admired. One of girls, I know, was mockingly representing her character‘s group. Like many of the other Appalachian children, these girls may have believed that it is not socially acceptable to be Appalachian. It is far more appealing to have an urban, hip-hop persona. All one simply needs to do is turn to the media to see positive hip-hop images on MTV and negative caricatures of hillbillies everywhere. Lulu chose her pseudonym and she selected to be a hillbilly in this sketch. Lulu is from rural West Virginia. While her mother drives a Lincoln SUV and in no way "seems Appalachian," perhaps Lulu has learned in order to succeed one has to look the part of a suburbanite.

Alicia, Lulu and Amber take on cultural stereotypes for their inquiry presentation. The picture is blurred as Lulu‘s mother did not want her face photographed.

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Igor and Patrick rap during their final presentation.

The last presentation of all three classes was undeniably the most profound. Igor and Patrick created a rap and together, they performed it. Patrick wrote the majority of it. Fortunately, I was able to photocopy it and include in this project. Upon careful examination of the words, the reader will notice that Patrick is verbally gifted. Again, Patrick sees rap as a valid alternative to a legitimately ―cool cultural identity.‖ While he values his father's Appalachian upbringing, he chooses to adopt an urban identity as opposed to a rural one.

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Implications and Discussion

―Mosaic is a medium...

that can utilize so much that is undervalued or thrown away in our society.‖

Kaffe Fassett

Mosaic Artist

Throughout this study, I have compared the emerging aspect of children's discourse and community building to mosaic pieces that are assembled, continually fit in and often replaced by those who create the mosaic of discourse. I have discussed the montage of constructivism and one particular ceramic tessera within it; social constructivism. I have discussed the elements of voice and perspective which inform ethnography and enrich the narrative stories told here. I have described the broken clay tiles of child and teacher interpretation that sculpted a unique yet diverse community and revealed the hardening grout of intention and motivation forming underneath. Children and adults alike were responsible for adding to the bonding of language and relationships. They became invariably linked in the often rough surfaces they were crafting together. As the Appalachian children used their interpretations to focus their attention on the action, they were not only contributing to but significantly leading the discourse of a community that was learning how to dialogue. In my effort to make the Appalachian children‘s voices more visible as the community being constructed, certain assumptions surfaced. One hypothesis rested in my belief that all children would freely be able to contribute to science discourse. From that dialogue, they would also create a reciprocal relationship that would benefit all parties. Chandler (1992) described the relationship in classroom cultures as ―dynamic, unfolding, constructed products of the patterned ways of perceiving, believing, acting, and evaluating that develop over time… ‖ (p. 33). Beliefs held by the children, influenced by space, revealed the unfolding of Appalachian culture. Data documentation in multiple learning spaces became an important process of this emergent study. The children and teacher‘ beliefs were made public through documentation processes and caused other

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viewpoints about teaching and learning to emerge. Space matters in schooling, and with the Appalachian culture, outside spaces especially matter. In chapter 2 of this dissertation, I cited many authors who have described science classroom cultures and clarified issues pertinent to my study. The norms of the classroom scientific communities were co-constructed by the teachers and children, based in action, and identified through the children‘s recorded language, photographs, and the children‘s writing. The perceptions of those actions, which were revealed in multiple learning spaces throughout the course of the study, were tempered by the fact that more than one voice stated the norms. These opinions, based on research in the field, influenced my own study and convinced me that children‘s inside discourse is largely influenced by their teachers, especially what and who the teacher values. A teacher‘s classroom is not simply a space lacking culture where teachers teach and children learn. Inside learning spaces are fraught with the teacher‘s rules and expectations based on their own personal values. Moreover, what a teacher values is not only important, it is the driving factor in what gets taught and how. The implication is clear—what a teacher values matters. Helping all children understand teacher actions, and their own, became one point of this project. Clarifying these values help the children clarify their values. The remaining sections of this chapter will include educational implications of the findings in this project. Each of the five research questions will be re-examined as I describe related educational implications. I focus on three particular aspects of the implications; the need for increased teacher sensitivity and awareness to culture; the positive facets of educational documentation; and the benefits of inviting children into outside spaces.

Research Question 1: How do particular spaces affect children's discourse during a problem-based curricular unit? How do outside spaces, in particular, inform this discourse? Inside learning spaces are a reflection of a teacher‘s values. Albeit challenging, children continually negotiate the differences between classroom expectations in various learning spaces. Outside learning spaces invite discovery, freshness, critical problem

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solving, and creativity. Children's discourse varies between the two types of learning environments. In classrooms, Appalachian fifth grade children constantly seek the right answer by mirroring the words, actions, and attitudes of the teacher. Outside, both the Appalachian children and the teachers studied in this project, were more relaxed, casual in their discourse, and less concerned about "getting it right." Research Question 2: How does the Appalachian cultural identity of these children inform this discourse? While it is difficult to make generalizations about any cultural group, there were some striking similarities between the Appalachian children's spoken and written language, attitudes about science, and level of familiarity during the stream study unit. Of the twenty identified Appalachian children, eighteen of the children had previously been identified as needing special educational accommodations. Four of the children were identified as gifted, and a staggering fourteen were identified as learning-disabled or having attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. For the majority of these children, outside spaces were more conducive to their discourse than inside spaces. Appalachian children—without exception—were more able to be themselves in outside spaces. For many of the boys who were not identified as gifted, and who may not have had the verbal advantage of many of the girls, simply being physically in the out-of-doors allowed them to move, speak, and react more naturally to situations then they were expected inside. All Appalachian children, regardless of gender, had familiarity in creeks and streams and often became "the class experts" during the inquiry experiences. The Appalachian girls, who often literally did not speak during inside science classes, were more talkative in outside spaces. Instead of allowing the boys take the lead and dominate conversations, these girls outside took charge and were the delegators of responsibility in their small groups. Research Question 3: How does the type of science inquiry influence this discourse? How do children talk during citizen science versus inquiry-based science? The Appalachian children, like all of the children, were much more concerned about accurately conducting the procedures during the two-stream monitoring fieldtrip day than during their inquiry investigation. Admittedly, there may be many causes for

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this occurrence. During the field trip of the two stream sites, there was much to do in little time. Each small group had to not only determine who was going to perform each test, but they also had to conduct the tests, monitor the equipment, negotiate the streams themselves, and follow the direction of the parent volunteers. With citizen science monitoring assessments, while there is no one "right answer," there is a certain expectation of accuracy in conducting the data collecting. Sue and I repeatedly told both the children and their parents that the point of the activities that day was to expose the children to conducting science in the out-of-doors in their communities. We always stressed process over product. As teachers, Sue and I set the stage for this day. The children inevitably picked up on our increased level of anxiety in making sure that everything went as planned. Of most importance was the students‘ safety in both of the streams. This was also during the first week of the stream monitoring unit. Everything was new to these children. While it was a field trip we were on, Sue and I never once used the word field trip with the children. We call it a "data collection trip" which at least to us, inferred work supposed to play. The chaperone parents unarguably played a vital role in the success of this day. Their presence, however, also contributed to have the children spoke. As children often interacted with teachers as they sought correct answers, these children often turned to the adult chaperones for support. Interestingly, the children with the "bad" chaperones who were either physically, socially, or mentally apart from the children, were forced to talk more and make decisions on their own. During the follow-up data sharing day at school, these children on the whole were the ones who had the most data collected in the groups who had the most cooperation between group members. As a follow-up exercise, I asked each child to write a paragraph on how well their group worked together. Comments such as, "Our group was great together,‖ ―…and even though Mrs. ____ was never around, we loved the day and got everything collected,‖ and my favorite, ―I don‘t think Mrs. ____ liked us. She was on the phone more than she was with us. Our group rocked without her!‖ During the inquiry stream science lessons, things were different than on that data collection day. The Appalachian children's discourse was definitely more in tune with what Roth (2007) found of the ecology graduate students during their time in the field. Like the young women in his study, and many of the children who lacked sufficient

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chaperoning on the previous field trip, these children were talking openly and differently in their small discursive communities for the purpose of solving problems. The Appalachian children, especially the girls, showed a great deal of empathy towards the animals they were studying. These children also realized that they had to often face unforeseen challenges and had to ―punt‖ during the inquiry activity. Due to our geographic isolation from our scientific classroom space, the children had to make do while collecting data at the school‘s stream site. The children did experience stress during this activity. As mentioned, many of the organisms were difficult to locate that were necessary for their investigations. Even through tears, these children talked through their challenges and for their presentations, were the better for it. Research Question 4: How does the curriculum and pedagogy influence students’ discourse about science? All of the fifth grade children, like all of their teachers at Country Dale Middle School, were under the gun during the five months of my observation. This was the first group of fifth graders responsible for passing all four academic sections of the Ohio State Achievement Test. I was fortunate to distinguish between "pre-testing talk," and "post- testing talk.‖ As a former elementary science specialist, I'm all too familiar with Ohio's battery of standardized testing. The closer the test week, the more information is poured into the learners like empty vessels waiting to be filled with correct answers. I truly believe teachers know better, but given the ramifications of testing failure, teachers have resorted to telling more and doing less. Veteran teachers, like many of the teachers at Country Dale, pined for the olden days prior to standardized testing. Commonly spoken phrases such as, "I used to...," or "If it weren't for this testing...," were regularly heard in the planning room or during lunch. All of that stress—child and adult induced—stopped after testing. As the teachers and children were "waiting to exhale," soon I began the stream unit. From a curricular standpoint, the unit seemed to be the antithesis of test prep material. It was definitely more open-ended, invited dialogue, and was completely localized. It invited children to direct experiences with tangible objects in spaces outside the classroom. Pedagogically, Sue and I were not seeking correct answers. Although we did teach the children basic

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stream monitoring skills, they were forced to use the skills and navigate their way through the processes in the visited multiple stream sites. I made a concerted point of using a culturally relative pedagogy during the stream unit. The stream experiences lent themselves to inviting multiple cultural perspectives as children were encouraged by me to share about their families, their home, what they did outside of school. Teaching in this way was astonishingly natural as I had the freedom to explore what was meaningful to the children; I did not have to ―stick to the test.‖

Culturally Aware Community Building: An Initial Discussion about Teachers Teachers influence children‘s discourse immensely. During this study‘s inception and throughout its evolution, I did not consider that I would be involving teachers as much as I did. I initially felt that children would largely have their own discourse regardless of the presence of a teacher or teachers. While children ―become themselves‖ outside when they relax, this was not always the case with the Appalachian children I studied. I will now devote considerable attention to the role of the teacher in facilitating a balanced community of learners during the instruction of science as well as the importance of discourse documentation by the teacher. After all, through awareness, teaching professionals can bring about changes in schools. Many teachers are able to articulate what they value when asked. Within practice, however those values become less visible. Fear of incompatibilities between value and action can cause novice teachers to doubt themselves and veteran teachers to become defensive. Discourse documentation, research that is tied to the often- nuanced everyday life of the learning spaces, can do much to open dialogue. The following reflection questions, linked to this study, and documented throughout my reflective journals, came from the co-construction process of this study that included both the children and the teachers‘ voices. An individual teacher or a staff of teachers could get to the heart of cultural mutuality in community building with these questions. Extrapolating from the framework in Chapter 2 that linked relevant literature to my desire to make discursive community building possible, the questions offer alternative suggestions that may be worth exploring. • What beliefs about teaching and learning foster reciprocal relationships?

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• What could it mean to expose children‘s cultural differences and subsequently support a marginalized child‘s potential? • What role could discourse documentation in outside spaces play in allowing reflection for children and teachers to see their own abilities at work towards contribution of a learning community? • How can school environments create outside experiences for children that support the role of the teacher and child as co-researchers in learning? Conversely, how can teachers best acknowledge their authoritative discourse and subsequently engage all learners in socially constructed learning environment? •How can schools confidently shift from test preparation to science instruction that accurately reflects science performed literally and figuratively "in the field?" •How can educators and administrators engage their families by conducting science together in their communities? • How could self reflection for both children and teachers enhance the community? • What could data collection in nontraditional teaching spaces offer teachers that would connect values to action? Personal and professional implications emerge from of the study presented here. Connections to reflective journals, project work, photos, and interpretations abound. While the questions are not common for educational practitioners (faculty meetings are rarely concerned about the unique philosophies that teachers hold) grappling with any one of them could produce a change in the way teachers interact and view children.

Discourse Documentation: Mirror on Teacher/Child Action I focused on the question about discourse documentation and the role it could play as a mirror for teacher and children to see their affect on the community. Unfortunately, because the fifth grade teachers and the children were on a singular educational mission—to collectively and sufficiently achieve a passing score on the state-mandated standardized tests—they had "other fish to fry." However, I was not on board with that particular mission; I could both investigate and interrogate what transpired in multiple learning communities. As the study emerged, the insights I gained as the winter and spring months passed, caused me to focus on certain emerging themes and to simultaneously discard others. "They" became ―we‖ during the stream unit and we

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wrestled together with projects and opportunities that were centered in the world outside of the classroom, both literally and figuratively. We found we had much to contribute as our discourses took on different meanings and purposes. Science and society were intertwined and the realities of life emerged mostly in outside spaces. • The Appalachian children shared concern over the suicide of a former principal, the death of a toddler abandoned by foster parents, and name-calling provoked by perceived racial and gender differences. These same children also shared their strong connection to places, animals, family, and religion. • Through their socially constructed discourse, the Appalachian children worked to resolve problems that threatened to separate members of their small group communities. • The children provoked conversations that revealed reciprocal relationships and created shared meanings as they collaboratively negotiated problem-solving strategies in various learning spaces. This was most apparent at the stream sites as the children faced obstacles new to them. • The children and teachers witnessed the power that knowledge can bring to the individual and the group through project development. • The children eventually passed and surpassed the state‘s benchmark tests and learned to conduct relevant and pertinent science investigations in their community in the process of building a community. At the end of the five-month data collection, the teacher in me was gratified to see a plan of action coming together. The stream unit surpassed every pedagogical expectation I might have had. However, the researcher in me wanted to examine how the plan actually happened. The relationship I had as teacher/researcher with the children established a context for participation and observation to go both ways. I was able to move in and out of my roles precisely because the children became adept at moving in and out of their positions as students/teachers/researchers. The Appalachian children were especially able to make decisions for the good of their small learning communities. They reviewed and reflected on their actions and proposed new directions for their own learning. The context that became a shared learning community encouraged children to teach each other. That freed me up to stand back and collect the data that revealed the voices of hope, intent, negotiation, and collaboration which characterized a collective

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interpretation in this study. Documenting that process unified the progress of building community and made it visible to those who chose to look more closely. Examining my position as a key player in the cultural community was tempered by the realization that I was not the only one. Early in the spring, while discussing what culture means during language arts and Sue‘s reading of Where the Red Fern Grows, Patrick said a community was ―... people interacting and culture was how a particular group of people interact by what they value.‖ The comment impressed me. As additional dialogue and interpretations emerged, they resounded in me as an appropriate description of how a specific learning community is influenced by what it values and can do when the people involved in creating it are open to the thoughts of others.

Multiple Voices Sharing Meaning in Multiple Spaces Only by the multi-voiced context of children and teachers do others sense the expansive nature of this kind of informal schooling experience. Rather than conform to the standards movement sweeping across the country, one that perpetuates correct answers and correct language, I value and speak for the motivation and intention to learn. Careful examination of extensive field notes, audio/photographic transcriptions, the written discourse and unstructured interviews of the Appalachian children and their family members helped me consider that multiple intentions were apparent in these classroom spaces; fluid yet changeable, but absolutely there. Observing changes in learning spaces moved me inside and outside of the context—simultaneously literally and figuratively. As a teacher/researcher, I found this aspect of the research to be especially difficult. My personal reflective journal showed multiple excruciatingly challenging days when I loathed being "just" an observer. My teaching career has been characterized by engagement with children and adults. It was physically and mentally taxing to ―step out‖ of the teacher role and into the researcher mode. As the data collection period progressed, however, the introspection that comes with the role allowed me the space to interpret not only the children‘s discursive actions as the learning communities were formed and reconfigured, but also my own. By examining what I thought I knew best, I was able to see how much I had missed.

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Dixon, Frank, & Green (1999), writing about classroom spaces as learning cultures, described that the discursive learning spaces are constructed from shared knowledge, opened windows for conversations with children to be seen as ―ethnographic acts‖ (p.4). Through that open window on teaching and learning as ―culturally- constructed knowledge‖, my study also sheds light on the purposefulness of seeing how a community is built. The culture that was mutually constructed by the children was supported by: reflection on documentation, recursive interpretation, and the realization that multiple perspectives of communication are essential starting points in the process. I entered the study assuming that once children were identified as being Appalachian, they would be equally co-constructing experiences with their non-Appalachian classmates. Unfortunately, that was not the case at this school. After careful scrutiny, I realized that these children were contributing to their discursive communities by sharing their past experiences with their classmates and teachers. The documentation of co-constructed discourse, as defined by Malaguzzi (1994), is capable of helping teachers and children reflect on the ways their values affect the world they are co-constructing. The children‘s efforts at documentation in the form of data collection led to signs of change within the other classes at the school, too. Photographs interpreted by the other team of fifth grade teachers, is an example of one such change. They started interspersing student-captured images on a hall bulletin board as they interpreted the photographs through writing. First and second grade teachers, hearing about the project, used photographs of a field trip in a different building to educate parents about the purposes of the trip. The children wrote commentary that included feelings about being on a nature walk. The non-fiction stories that evolved for the trip were again shared on a large board and included parent insight about the adventure. One seventh grade teacher, created a student-generated booklets about peer pressure with her students, using photographs, drawings, and revealing text about the anxieties connected to this sort of pressure. Documenting dialogue was also a wave that spread throughout the building. On days I wasn't audio recording, an eighth grade science teacher borrowed the audio-recorders during a unit on sound. His students recorded their voices and had a subsequent discussion on the seeming distortion of our own voices as we speak. A sixth grade teacher taught the actual process of interviewing and transcribing

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interviews with her students. In partners, they interviewed each other and then transcribed and then analyzed the interview. Simply put, the act of discursive documentation and displaying child and teacher interpretations helped these teachers see their students literally through new lenses. Documenting incidents that elicited culture and differences in the realm of a larger community, is significant in a population that includes children living on the margins of society. Mallory & New (1994) included a changing teacher role in their paradigm shift: away from the dispenser of knowledge towards a responsibility to know each child in his/her own context. I see actions like those described here as value meeting practice. When teacher practice includes recognizing the child‘s context, exciting things happen. These experiences, and the documentation that supported them, illustrate the shared meanings that evolve when teachers see working with all children as stimulating and worth doing. Shared meanings that develop in shared learning spaces have implications for teacher intentions, policy decisions, professional development, and parent involvement.

Shared Meanings: Affecting Others and Leading to Action Appalachian parents need to feel more included in schools. Parents who feel alienated from formal learning spaces often see education as fragmented and directed increasingly by people who know little about it and little about their children. Appalachian adults are one such group. If a parent has had a negative personal experience through formal schooling, that inevitably will be passed on to future generations and perpetuates the divide between minority culture and dominant culture. Rather than lament what seems to be, developing shared meanings through "discursive documentation" can influence decisions made outside the classroom or school. As seen through the rich collection of family photographs, Appalachian adults have a fond connection to the out- of-doors. Simply by acknowledging and encouraging these parents to share what they know best, school officials can reap the rewards of not only winning back these parents, but showing in documenting how their cultural traditions can benefit families from non- Appalachian ancestry. Discourse documentation, and the cycle of interpretation that

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drives it, targets the inclusive nature of knowledge. How? It provokes conversation that questions the assumptions people outside the classroom culture hold. When I apply child/teacher interpretation to knowledge claims held by dominant cultures, alternative views emerge. For example, many administrators are caught in the ―testing twine‖ that tethers salary increases to student achievement scores. Things are only getting worse. They could, through discourse documentation and interpretation, show other sides of the argument. Shared meanings can also affect the way university educators view teachers and the work they do. If teacher/researchers are generating data that accesses experiences inside classrooms, then the inclusive nature of that kind of discourse documentation broadens theoretical understandings as well. Experiences that are many, varied, and documented supplement multiple theoretical perspectives. . . . a more inclusive and appropriate way of collecting data . . . forces us to think about practice experience at how it happens ‗naturalistically‘ so that we can approximate our methods to it, rather than necessarily creating or imposing more ‗artificial‘ methods for data collection. Charmaz (2006, pp. 86-87.)

Charmaz continues to caution researchers that experiences take place in contexts that influence the outcomes. ―No one player has access to all aspects of the context at any one time.‖ (p.87). Discourse documentation, through constructivist grounded theory, can be viewed from many angles. Maximizing perspectives, capitalizing on teacher/child reflection for example, and suggesting new ways to work in collaboration with others, discourse documentation in multiple spaces has the power to connect theorist and practitioner for the well being of the child.

Revealing Intentions: Alternative Views of Teaching and Learning In the later part of this chapter, through revealing dialogue and photographs, I compared the various inside and outside spaces that influenced the Appalachian children's discourse. These incidences of discursive identity do more than illustrate a process. I also shared my own interpretation of these events. Through theoretical lenses, the process could be viewed as representative of will to know differently, rather than the need to know prescriptively. Open ended projects like the stream unit inquiry have fallen out of favor as the march toward better scores continues. An article in The Phi Delta Kappan, as recently as September, 2007, list entrepreneurial steps that could be taken to

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keep teachers teaching, and students learning from a risk- taking business model. Hess‘s research (2007) suggests that teachers should adopt a more entrepreneurial teaching style that encourages greater risk-taking on the parts of the learners. His research indicates that teachers: ―. . . are required to teach more curriculum based on testing, (must let) creative talents . . . go by the wayside, and (have to use) state and district mandated materials‖ rather than the many lessons teachers develop that fit the context of their classroom and the children in them. The deadening effects of unused potential are clear for children and teachers. Conversely, projects, especially research projects in nontraditional spaces, allow teachers and children the pleasure of making critical decisions for themselves. True science inquiry, and the documentation that can flow from them, could return the focus to the intangible rewards of teaching and boost morale. Scott, Stone, & Dinham (2001) observe, ―Standardization of many aspects of teaching, contributes both to the much noted increase in overall work load and to the erosion of pleasures of the job . . . (such as) flexibility, challenge, creativity, working with and for people‖ (pp.9-10). Knowledge is not entirely constructed inside classrooms, and many theorists have recognized that learning comes from different sources of knowledge and has no defined space. Dewey (1902) appeared to be advocating for different sources of knowledge. His thoughts could be applied to the relationship between teachers and children. His perspective could be presented to people who have a stake in questioning the status quo and to people who act as if they are the status quo. An especially revealing interpretation about the child and the curriculum could be featured alongside today‘s testing explosion. Dewey‘s union of theory and practice is powerful. Abandon the notion of subject-matter as something fixed and ready-made in itself, outside children‘s experience; stop thinking of the child‘s experience as also something hard and fast; see it as something fluent, developing, essential; and realize that children and the curriculum are simply two that we call the study's restrictions which define a single process. It is continuous reconstruction, moving from the child‘s present experience out into that represented by the organized bodies of truth that we call studies. (Dewey, 1902, p. 189) Revealing intentions through practice takes practice. It is the continual reconstruction of relationships within the classroom that gives discourse documentation its variations and universal dimensions. Because dialogue was a part of these inside and

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outside communities, critical inquiry allowed me and the children a chance to disagree about the norms as they were being established. As seen in Nathan's method in crawdad capturing, his knowledge was not only as legitimate as mine, it was superior. The fact that doubt, curiosity, and questioning were fundamental and creative elements in these communities set up spaces where relationships could be negotiated and re-negotiated. Alternative views of teacher/student relationships like Freire‘s (1993, p.50) pedagogy, are based on the premise that unequal ―relations of power become a fundamental obstacle‖ to teaching and learning. Discourse documentation that includes many voices hurdles over this obstacle. In my data, it is clear that I lead discussions, make suggestions, and orchestrate experiences that widen the scope of the children's work as it goes forward. The data also shows my regard for the ideas children have and the actions children do on their way to becoming more autonomous, especially in outside spaces. Rather than seeing teachers as all- powerful with authoritative discourse, discourse documentation can put aware children in charge of their own learning and exploring issues which are culturally significant and important to them. When a once-shy eleven year old feels confident about presenting his or her project to peers in ways that seem significant to him or her, and answers questions about its form and function, relationships shift and become more complex. When that shift occurs, that complexity is confirmation that teachers and children are creating a community that is open to change in both parties.

Implications for Professional Development Wherever change comes from, and here I am arguing that it can come directly from practitioners, it can lead to ramifications that are barely discernible at first. What seems like a gentle stream flow, including and valuing all children's voices through discussion and with discourse documentation, can quickly become a river rushing toward an examination of professional development. Since discourse documentation is meant to be public, a consideration of professional consequences coming from it materializes on a teaching/learning community.

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• The discourse documentation of learning space, in its many forms, could be adapted to faculty presentations. For example, grade level teams interested in particular experiences, can use its tools to augment scientific research. • Continued application of the discourse documentation of space can inform political agendas. Seeing and hearing children and teachers engaged in critical thinking and multiple learning spaces may suggest that policy should follow what businesses have long valued in its work force: the ability to make informed decisions.• • Educational research that supports a child‘s cultural point of view can come into focus and move to the front of the line. The gap that exists between graduate studies done ―on‖ and done ―with‖ children might be closed. Culturally relevant research that looks and listens closely to what children are experiencing and initiating in school might lead the field in new directions. • Data stories that are produced while the discourse documentation process is going forward can help the general public understand how individual and particular a child‘s learning is. Those same stories may indicate that the best teachers make lessons culturally relevant. • Funding for school-based research might be easier to find if the agencies could visualize the ways intention influences teacher expertise. Discourse documentation, by nature, helps make teacher intentions visible. • Professional development courses designed to examine the process of interpretation through photographs, artifacts, and transcripts may entice teachers interested in making their own learning highly individualized and meaningful. • Teachers and parents could find new ways to collaborate under the auspices of discourse documentation. Understandings of how a child learns could marry knowledge of what the child has learned. • Accountability issues, so prevalent today, and based on the number of items known, could move into a different phase with discourse documentation as one form of assessment. Rather than settle for a score, teachers, parents, and politicians could get a sense of how a classroom reflects democracy in action with discourse documentation and the cycle of interpretation in place. Through interpretation, teachers and children can show the often-disordered work of maintaining a democracy.

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• Making practice and theory visible and communicating to a wide audience through discourse documentation, could bring the public back to public schools. Revealing the mission to teach all children could be demonstrated and debated locally as well as nationally. Connecting culture with space through discourse documentation, teachers and school administrators could embrace a community that is used to hearing the worst about its schools. It could also encourage more schools to do their best.

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Chapter 6: Conclusions and Implications ―Each of us puts in one little stone, and then you get a great mosaic at the end.‖ Alice Paul American Suffragist Leader

The Mosaic of Language All mosaic looks alike from a distance. The nature of mosaic is to create a beautiful design with smaller bits of stone, glass, or metal. Each piece seems insignificant alone. These still recognizable pieces create an entirely different phenomenon when combined. School discourse is similar to mosaic by its very nature. Multiple discourses all sound alike from far away. Distinct voices can be heard upon closer inspection. Ideally, all voices should be included in classrooms. Not all voices were invited into conversations about science as I discovered inside classrooms. The discourse of one particular group of children does not lend itself to broad generalizations, but if we look closely enough, this discourse may reveal tiny pebbles of insight that warrant a closer look. In the case of these twenty Appalachian children, I was privileged to take an intimate journey with them as they collaboratively created discourse inside and outside of their school. I was fortunate to have been invited into the learning spaces of the children and their teachers as I was briefly a part of their school culture. I discovered that the discursive communities involved not only the Appalachian children, but the non-Appalachian children and the teachers as well. Life is not black and white. Life at Country Dale Middle School was not black and white either. Most importantly, the Appalachian children‘s identities were not black and white in any way. As I set out to initially study the children‘s discourse, I learned that the teacher‘s discourse greatly contributed to what ideas the children discussed, and how and when they discussed those ideas. The teachers proved to be central contributing factors in the discourse of these children as they consistently reacted to certain children in certain ways. The teachers empowered many of the children. After listening to many of the teachers‘ well meaning but hastily-spoken words or lack of interest in some of the Appalachian children as human beings, I am sure I will be a better teacher, one who realizes that an unthinking dismissal or a condemning word might live on well beyond the moment in ways I could not have imagined. Likewise, words of encouragement

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offered to students or small caring acts done for them may seem inconsequential at the time, but they undoubtedly live and grow.

The Problem

Discoveries and Border Crossings This study set out to portray a glimpse of certain fifth grade children‘s discourse in one northern Appalachian community during science classes. During time spent with the children, I learned that the Appalachian children‘s discourse was seen by the teachers through a deficit model; that is, the teachers devalued the contributions that the children make during science classes. The same children emerged as stream experts through their prior knowledge and awareness of stream-related issues. Here lies the problem. Traditional science has been seen as a discourse of logical analytical thinking, formal experimental methodologies, and time-tested procedural presentation of findings. Like my childhood friends and classmates, I learned early on that those children and young people who can ―talk the talk‖ inside the formal spaces of science cross over into this world successfully. Simultaneously, those children who cannot adopt the traditional worldview of the sciences struggle in school and on mandatory achievements tests. What is valued in schooling is then tested; more aptly, what is tested is then valued in schooling. What is not tested is what the Appalachian children know and how they communicate. As I found with the children at Country Dale Middle School, the Appalachian children communicated through more conversational, dialogic, and narrative-based discourses both inside and outside. As they had spent much time outside, specifically in streams, the children were ―the experts‖ about streams, their habitats, and the organisms that inhabited them. Once the inside borders were crossed, these children were able to relax, talk in ways most familiar to them, and emerge as valued stream ecologists. The challenges faced in the field of ecological sciences seem an ideal match for the abilities and expertise of the Appalachian children. Whereas ecologists face unique struggles and opportunities in often-unforeseen venues, the Appalachian children were able to solve problems with their familiarity of the out-of-doors, with their invented yet creative discourses, and through their unique appreciation of and relationship to

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animals. How can children, teachers, and educational officials encourage such cultural and physical border crossings?

Cultural Deficit or Cultural Advantage? Earlier I stated that I wanted to know what could be learned by studying the inside and outside discourse of Appalachian children. I wanted to know how such discursive perspectives of communities of learners also were promoted during the inside instruction of science and the outside stream monitoring unit. At the same time, I wanted to know what could be learned to help promote my attempt at teaching in a socioculturally responsive way by studying how the children‘s culture affected my own efforts as a teacher/researcher in such practice. Gee (2006) contends that children maintain different discourses at school than they do at home. Ladson- Billings (1994) and Gay, (2000, 2003) argue that the tenets of culturally responsive pedagogy are often the same fundamentals of successful teaching. My findings support this. Yet, I would emphasize that even good teaching practices must be applied in different ways to meet the needs of culturally diverse students, in this case, the students of Appalachian descent living in the northern Appalachian community of Grant County. How can all people involved in science education, from children—Appalachian and non-Appalachian—to their parents, teachers, professors, and administrators see that culture matters and that Appalachians have a unique perspective to bring to the sciences and especially the ecological sciences?

Some Solutions I have completed my study and have identified what I considered to be salient insights into the discourse of students of one rural Appalachian county. I have concluded that the achievement and success of students in rural Appalachian counties must go beyond the development of a sterile and rigorous curriculum that leaves no child behind. Within the school setting I observed, the discourse of the children emerged from a philosophy that some of the teachers perpetuated in their classrooms. Unfortunately, this philosophy did not permeate all the classrooms, the curriculum, the school and the community. It seemed to be hit and miss at best. A culturally relevant pedagogy did emerge outside during the stream unit when Sue and I infused it into every lesson. This philosophical pedagogy was built on the belief that Appalachian children were learners,

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regardless of their backgrounds, their poverty or their isolation from more ―mainstream‖ lifestyles. A philosophy was adopted that reflected in socioculturally responsive practice that encouraged children by upholding and valuing the Appalachian heritage, language, history, culture and customs. During the stream unit, I succeeded in empowering the Appalachian children by helping them become engaged and questioning learners through their distinct knowledge and experiences. I now identify three solutions to the problems I found through this project. The solutions center on two foundational transformations: changing attitudes by changing the curriculum and pedagogy, and changing the spaces of science.

Changing Attitudes

Cultural Competence, Narrativity, and Teaching My vision of a socioculturally responsive experience for rural Appalachian children begins with the notion of cultural competence when I asked, ―How does the Appalachian cultural identity of these children inform their discourse?‖ Examining cultural identity in a school with children who have never actually lived in the Appalachian mountain region within their lifetime proved to be a daunting initial task. While I was first concerned that any cultural heritage may be homogenized through the standardization of children's lives today, I realized something critically unique about these particular children. These northern Appalachian children have a complex and fluid identity that resists classification and stereotyping. As I was first concerned and I wondered how these children could identify with a part of their past that was separated both geographically and socioculturally, I realized again, things weren‘t black and white in terms of their identity also. These northern Appalachian children—like most children— maintain a ―hybrid identity.‖ They identify with their cultural past while at the same time talking cultural cues from their classmates, their teachers, and the media. To me this was an essential issue given the pervasive negative stereotyping and belittling of the Appalachian culture within our society. My other initial concerns focused on the overwhelming statewide test preparation that these children endured every week of the school year. I wanted to celebrate the Appalachian culture, yet at the same time, I faced

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the challenges of teaching a sociocultural, place-based unit outside when the entirety of the school was teaching test preparation inside. Building cultural competence within the rural children of Appalachian descent would seem a monumental task since little validation of their culture exists within the standard school curriculum. Yet, I found that this task could be accomplished by providing nourishment to the cultural roots the children had formed in their homes and their communities. As I learned, teachers can make a tremendous impact on their students‘ cultural identity. Rebecca and Sue culturally nurtured many of their students by having a strong cultural identity themselves. I found it interesting that two of the four teachers chose to promote certain aspects of culture in their pedagogy and curriculum as they trivialized others. They encouraged many of their students to develop pride in themselves and in their rural cultural heritages, but the Appalachian culture was seldom mentioned. While Rebecca and Sue celebrated their rural identities, they downplayed their shared Appalachian heritage. For example, Rebecca provided many opportunities for her students to explore their rural cultural identities in respectful, non-threatening school activities that encouraged home, family and community to be a branch of the school‘s curriculum. Sue explored her own rural cultural self-knowledge when she initiated her rural language arts curriculum in her fifth grade class. She began by examining her own beliefs about cultural identity through self-reflection and by recalling her own career in the rural schools where she first taught. As a strong and proud woman of a rural Appalachian descent, it was easy for her to promote this positive image to most of her students. Both Rebecca and Sue sought ways for their students to know and extol their own cultural heritages. Rebecca integrated cultural discovery into many aspects of her curriculum. Her children collected family stories and studied rural customs in language arts lessons. She validated their home languages by choosing not to make grammatical corrections to the stories her students collected. Rebecca brought the culture of her community to her school by inviting guest speakers and readers to classrooms and to school programs. She initiated meaningful home/school connections that literally empowered her families by giving them access to formal education. Rebecca and Sue presented positive images of the children‘s cultural heritages by sharing children‘s

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literature. Sue collected stories of rural and mountain culture and customs. She frequently read these to her students, connecting many of the stories to particular units of study as she did in language arts. Rebecca noticed a scarcity of books in her school that reflected the local rural culture, so she led her students in fundraising for the missing books. Each of these practices and perspectives define culturally responsive teaching that promotes cultural competence within students by making learning more appropriate and effective for them. Rebecca and Sue promoted cultural awareness by teaching through the strengths of their students, that is, their experience, their language and their culture.

Teachers Must Acknowledge All Culture One of the most fascinating findings of the study was the realization that cultural difference was alive and well at Country Dale Middle School, however, no one knew it. Country Dale had a 95% Caucasian student population; and 3% Asian population; it had 1% Latino population and less than 1% African-American population. The Caucasian children in the school were exposed to more than three times the number of Asians as African-Americans, however the African-American culture was clearly prevalent in the minds of many of these children. The school had an interesting mix of cultures and cultural celebrations. I was convinced the school was rural when at all the school dances played only ―new country‖ music. I have never experienced that rural aspect before in the schools I'd previously attended. Racial awareness became another aspect of cultural awareness at Country Dale. Paul's understanding of African American culture was enlightening. When he shared with me the worst name-calling words he could think of on the creek walk (negro, gay, and lesbian), I soon realized that Paul was socially isolated, or at least separated from diversity. Up until that day, I was an advocate for teacher diversity in schools. I had previously asserted that African-American teachers primarily need to be a part of teaching staffs to serve as role models for African-American students. The conversation with Paul changed my mind completely. I realized at that time that there need to be African-American, Latina/Latino, gay, lesbian, etc. teachers to expose all children to diversity. During the inquiry final presentations, the Appalachian children performed

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more often than non-Appalachian children. Interestingly, the Appalachian performers adopted cultural identities not their own. It was ―cooler‖ to be an urban hip-hop artist then a hillbilly hick, according to Lulu and Alicia. Lulu was unknowingly mocking her own culture. Alicia wore the hip-hop clothing all day long and continually used "street lingo" as she culturally traded in her own. Paul made my cartoon caricature dark skinned; hearing laughter from his classmates after having done so, Paul wanted to get rid of the picture as soon as possible. Appalachian children have different perceptions of culture, but most assuredly, they have learned already that their culture is one to be shunned. Is there a solution to such cultural naïveté? Teachers must acknowledge that children maintain ―hybrid‖ identities. Again, nothing in this study was black and white and certainly the children‘s Appalachian identity was as fluid as the streams they studied. Appalachian culture must also be acknowledged. I determined that the Appalachian children at Country Dale spoke in narrative discourses that included the things near and dear to them; their social groups, their home spaces, and wild animals. They also performed—through often culturally-relative discourses—their scientific findings as opposed to standing and talking about them through logical narration. When they did use logical presentation styles, teachers suggested they were simply ―b-s-ing‖ their way through the presentations. When Paul presented his findings, his teacher‘s response indicated that she hoped he maintained this skill throughout high school as, ―it may get him through graduation.‖ Why is it that children who live on society‘s margins must resort to manipulation of the system to have the same opportunities afforded to more mainstreamed children? Teachers and school officials must also acknowledge that traditional notions of ―underachievement‖ are socially constructed. I suggest they begin this ―philosophical enlightenment‖ by adopting a culturally-responsive inquiry-based curriculum that challenges previous notions of school success in the sciences. Inquiry-based instruction has a hold of the science education community as much as constructivist pedagogy. Science educators not using inquiry-based constructivist curricula would be rebuffed by the science education community as a whole. Inquiry-based instruction is the current paradigm in science education, and as such, teacher textbooks, work books, workshops, and professional development experiences hold focus on inquiry-based instruction. I've

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recently come to realize that inquiry-based means different things to different people. Traditionally, inquiry-based instruction is seen as a teaching technique in which teachers create situations in which students are to solve problems. Lessons are designed so that students make connections to previous knowledge, bring their own questions to learning, investigate to satisfy their own questions and design ways to try out their ideas. Such investigations may extend over a long period of time. Students communicate through journal writing, oral presentations, drawing, graphing, charting, etc. Students then revise their explanations as they learn. This pedagogical technique is particularly popular in science instruction. From this research project, I expand on that definition to include culturally responsive inquiry-based instruction. Sue and I made a concerted effort to instruct the Appalachian children in ways that seem to make sense for them. We used oral storytelling, experiences for the children to share about their family and home, and we even frequently included discussions about church. The children determined questions that interested them during the stream monitoring unit. They were encouraged to collect the data and create the entire investigation in ways that made sense to them and their learning communities. The children were given much more latitude in the entire scientific process during their stream inquiries as compared to the citizen science stream monitoring assessments. This research and its findings clearly showed me that children need time to socially construct meaning through extended amounts of discussion. The children continually talked with one another both inside and outside during the inquiry and data gathering processes. Even until the presentations, and sometimes during the presentations, the children continually reasserted their ideas and opinions so as to best clearly convey meaning with their peers. The discourse of the Appalachian children was often nonstandard. Alternative discourses must be not only acknowledged in science classes, but valued in both their content in and how the discourse is presented. As clearly seen in Patrick's final rap, Appalachian children have much to say. Their teachers need to be culturally aware as they encourage all children's input and all the spaces where science occurs.

Changing Spaces and Crossing Borders As a science educator with both informal and formal science teaching experience, I was fervently interested to find out how children‘s discourse was affected by taking

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them outside and conducting stream investigations modeled after actual scientific processes. The overarching questions which guided the study were, "How do particular spaces affect children's discourse during a problem-based curricular unit? How do outside spaces inform this discourse in particular?‖ I expected all children to maintain a consistent discourse in every classroom when I entered the school site in January. I anticipated that they would be more relaxed when I went outside. I then contended that their discourse would change by being more relaxed in outside spaces. The Appalachian children greatly surprised me. The same children who were identified with learning disabilities were, almost without exception, children of Appalachian descent. The same children became stream experts once outside. Most of the Appalachian children became increasingly relaxed in their discourse the further they were physically removed from the school. As they were put into small groups, the children developed leadership abilities as a result of their confidence, attitude, and awareness of freshwater organisms. Simply taking the Appalachian children outside did not project them into school leadership roles. The children‘s discourse was no different from being inside the classroom when Sue and I taught in a traditional way beneath the outside shelter. The shelter sat immediately next to the school building and the picnic tables were no different from clusters of desks inside classrooms. The focus was also on Sue and me disseminating information. Even though we were eliciting the children's questions for their inquiry projects, there was no reason for them to be engaged in the conversation. The children reverted to traditional roles of inside classroom discourse even when generating the questions in small groups. Boys typically spoke freely whereas the Appalachian girls were not outspoken at all. Things dramatically changed at the stream sites. The Appalachian children developed more leadership confidence, perhaps in part, due t their familiarity with streams. The most obvious change was in the Appalachian girls. Like the young women in Bowen and Roth‘s (2007) ecological study, the Appalachian girls became cooperative, focused, and contributing. Every identified Appalachian girl—without exception—was comfortable in the streams. The most marginalized, ridiculed, and forgotten girls inside immediately developed authoritative discourse in the streams. Dawn was an active and contributing participant at all three stream sites. Inside, Amber resorted to bossing her

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peers and back talking her teachers. It was different for Amber outside. Amber efficiently completed all the tasks during the citizen science aspect of the stream monitoring and during her inquiry project. The group would not have finished if it weren't for her previous experiences with crayfish. The Appalachian boys made almost as a dramatic transformation, but in different ways. Inside, most of the Appalachian boys were the recipients of education. The boys were spoken to in condescending ways, using simplified language because most of them had been identified as having a learning disability. Like the Appalachian girls, the Appalachian boys were the teachers in outside spaces. As the level of their interest and experience with stream organisms grew, so their language changed. This discursive language transformed into authoritative discourse. While some of the teachers empowered the Appalachian boys to continue their interest of stream organisms, many teachers dismissed this newly discovered expertise as insufficient and curricularly irrelevant knowledge. Sue and Rebecca praised most of the Appalachian boys in the streams frequently. Emily, Megan, and Angie did not outwardly appreciate streams because they were "bug-infested, smelly, and nasty." The boy's stream excitement overwhelmingly negated the teachers‘ negative attitudes about conducting stream studies. The boys were on a mission of discovery and fun, and perhaps because Sue and I were encouraging them to explore, the Appalachian boys ignored the nay saying of the other teachers.

The Stream Curriculum

Like heavy spring rains causing stream flooding, the excitement and anticipation of doing something other than test preparation swelled within all of the children and most of the teachers. The final month of the data collection afforded me the opportunity to answer my final two questions in this project. I was curious to learn if Appalachian children‘s discourse varied between conducting the traditional stream quality assessments and experiencing an inquiry-based unit based on a question the children had posed. When I had personally experienced conducting one of the three stream assessments with adults, I discovered that there was much communication involved when conducting much of the testing. The negotiation of ideas and language became obvious to me as groups of

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strangers had to agree on an index rating when collecting macro invertebrates and during the habitat assessment. I felt that this study had to include the following question: ―How does the type of science inquiry influence the children's discourse? How do children talk during citizen science versus inquiry-based science?" The Appalachian children's discourse changed when they conducted citizen science assessments versus inquiry-based experiences. In many ways, the Appalachian children spoke similarly during the citizen science-like assessments at the stream sites as they did inside. During the initial data gathering field trip in the community, the children had much data to gather in little time. As a result of the time constraint, they were focused on performing the tests as accurately as possible. I continually stressed procedure over findings. Sue and I told both the children and their parents on the trip that conducting the procedures correctly was much more important than achieving similar results. The children's discourse reflected this concern for a correct answer as it had inside the classrooms. Both the Appalachian boys and the Appalachian girls cooperated efficiently and achieved interesting and consistent results. What was more interesting and more relevant to the study was what they discussed during the procedures. Like the inquiry lessons, but to a much lesser degree, the Appalachian children used their prior cultural experiences as they made sense of the chemical, macroinvertebrate, and habitat assessments. They infused talk of family, church, home, and Appalachia itself as they worked together. The Appalachian children were much freer in their discourse during the inquiry lessons. As they weren't replicating a process created by others, the children‘s talk focused on creative and inventive problem-solving. All of the Appalachian children chose to conduct their investigation on stream macroinvertebrates. When they often could not find the needed organisms, the children again used previous experiences to solve problems. It was the Appalachian children who knew that crayfish lived under rocks in the middle of streams. The Appalachian children knew that stream islands maintained different aquatic habitats than stream riffles or runs. Many of the Appalachian girls had previously experienced backyard flooding during preceding spring rains. They also could predict water flow patterns as a result of the floods. When the children were encouraged to create a final presentation using methods that made sense to them, many of the

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Appalachian children presented some of the most creative and nontraditional science presentations. Whereas Sue and I had entirely stressed traditional science methods to these children, the Appalachian children infused artistic performance into their work much more readily than the non-Appalachian children.

Taking Children Outside Throughout the literature review of this project, I cited the relevant research on the benefits of taking children outside. Inviting children into outside spaces, however, during the school day presents a myriad of challenges. Teachers no longer have the freedom or the time to deviate from the nationally-mandated science curriculum for fear of leaving no child behind. Teachers also have not been exposed to the benefits of taking children outside in many of their preparatory courses. The Country Dale School District natural areas were literally breathtaking, yet that was not enough to encourage teachers to come out and use the trails. While our current president fears leaving no child behind in schools, I argue that no child should be left inside. Sue would agree, but we are certainly not in the mainstream when it comes to taking children outside during the school day. How is it that teachers can be encouraged to invite their children into outside learning spaces? The sciences certainly lend themselves to conducting investigations outside the classroom. Teachers often lack the scientific knowledge required to have their students perform inquiry-related investigations in nature. Going outside is not all or nothing. A teacher does not have to conduct the citizen science or inquiry lessons that Sue and I conducted with her children. Soon I collectively have over 55 years of classroom teaching experience and many teacher workshops conducted for the sheer purpose of performing inquiries in nature with children. Just by encouraging children to observe organisms and relationships in nature, they can benefit from exploring new places. Through professional opportunities independent from each other, Sue and I have had in-depth experiences with university scientists who led teacher workshops. Having had the ecological field studies saturation in zoology has enlightened me tremendously to not only scientific concepts, but to the actual processes of collecting scientific data in the field. Any exposure teachers can have with scientists will only strengthen their science teaching.

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A Stream Mosaic In my research, I discovered that Appalachian children are keenly aware of the game called "school." They have learned much about inside science classrooms that has nothing to do with science itself by the time they reach the fifth grade. Many of the Appalachian children at Country Dale Middle School—Lulu, Patrick, Fergie, and Carson—have been blessed with the ability to play the game better than others. They have determined how to succeed in an often culturally unwelcoming setting. The school has also determined that they are "gifted," and with such a determination comes the fortunate fate of having teachers who support them regardless of their cultural heritage. Other children at Country Dale were not so lucky. Children such as Dawn, Noah, Paul, Amber, and Nate have been given another label—―identified.‖ As a former fifth grade teacher, I do not downplay special-education in public schools. I personally have seen the benefits of having intervention specialists with struggling students. Unfortunately, with the special-education label, comes a heavy price to pay. The identified Appalachian children also suffered from the stigma that only poverty can bear. These children have triple challenges; they are Appalachian, they live in poverty, and they have been identified. These children will not be afforded the same advantages of their gifted Appalachian classmates. While all of these challenges are life-changing, in the educational arena, poverty is perhaps the greatest divide. This is not only true in Appalachian counties, but the entire United States as well. Noah and Amber are two children who will be fortunate to graduate from high school. Public school children are just that—children from the public. The public represents a diverse group of community members and each classroom essentially represents the range of diversity within the community. By no choice of their own, children like Noah and Amber are children of poverty. Children of poverty are often perceived by teachers to be lazy, defiant, distant from peers, and disinterested in school (Moses, 2002; Shapiro, 1986; Brown and Kelly, 2007). It is commonly known that this perception by the teachers is compounded when teachers are of one culture and children are of another. What is more surprising is that the literature on rural Appalachian children in schools suggests those teachers of Appalachian descent ridicule and the little

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Appalachian children as much as non-Appalachian teachers (Goad, 1997; DeYoung, 2002; Phelps & Prock, 1991). Does the discourse of these children change as a result of having teachers who ridicule them? It absolutely does change. It was not my goal to study the teachers at Country Day Middle School when I first set out to collect data in January. It is not my goal now is I finalize this research project to criticize the same teachers. The teachers are my friends. As a former teacher and now researcher, I am fascinated that a veteran teacher could continually ridicule one child, ignore another one entirely, while at the same time, laud praise on other children. These teachers essentially are the ―Mosaic Makers‖ of their classrooms. Even though they don't start by choosing their students, by the end of the school year, certain voices have been privileged while others have been abandoned. Like a mosaic, each child is a distinct piece of matter, with distinct edges. I discovered that certain mosaic pieces are predominantly displayed; some pieces are made rougher; others are never used in classroom spaces. Everything shifts in outside spaces. Like pebbles at the bottom of the stream, the current rearranges them. As the Appalachian children literally stood in the same streams, they were being rearranged and highlighted in socioculturally significant ways.

My Mosaic

In several places throughout this study I have discussed mosaics and mosaic making. The children actually created mosaics in art using broken ceramic tiles, bark, mirror pieces, beads and stones. Reflecting upon the mosaic that the children made, I consider now the possibilities for my own story mosaic. What would it consist of? What pieces of ceramic from the story of my life would I add to the design? First I think of family. I would have one piece that would represent those many summers of traveling to visit relatives in eastern Kentucky with my mother, my sister and my grandmothers. Family holiday memories would also have to be given tile on my mosaic, as well as images from my time spent growing up in a then small community—the Christmas lights strung from light poles, crisscrossing the main street—the trains that I watched daily from

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my school window—Friday night high school football games. Each of these holds a special place in the memories of my youth. When I think of my time as a teacher in suburban Grant County, I am drawn to the memory of Greg, a student in my first third-grade class. My first years of teaching were not what I would now refer to as eminently successful; if I measured success by how culturally responsive my pedagogical practices were. During my first years of teaching, I failed to recognize the uniqueness of my students and the rich, cultural backgrounds they brought to the classroom. I taught the traditional curriculum; with the intent to have each of my students fit the identity of who I thought they should be—a speaker and writer of Standard English. Greg was my first realization that teaching students was more than teaching a set curriculum. If I were to identify a point when I first began to have an understanding of culturally responsive instruction, long before I would ever be introduced to the concept, my experience with this third grade class would be it. It was my first year of teaching at Mill Creek Elementary School. This was the first time I had taught third grade ever. These children spanned a large area of the Mill Creek School District. I had many children from Mill Creek‘s newly budding upper- class suburban neighborhoods as well as many children from the plethora of trailer parks that border Avon, a nearby Appalachian community. The majority of the class was boys who had been collectively placed in ―the new guy‘s room‖ because he was just that— new. It was February. We had all struggled through basic grammar and composition and were now in the second half of the year. I was teaching the children how to write a paragraph. As much as I tried to model my former grammarian English teachers, I just couldn‘t encourage these children to appreciate the writing process as I thought they should. I expected them to become as excited about punctuation, active verb use, and footnotes as me. That‘s right, footnotes in third grade. It didn‘t happen. So, here we were, the middle of February, three more months to go, and I just wanted to quit. I was then reading Where the Red Fern Grows to the children. I had just learned of the book at a reading workshop. I read it once alone, and I was hooked. We also listened to the audio recording as well. I asked the children to write a story about a family pet that their parents had had. They would naturally have to interview their parents. We discussed what questions to ask them as well. As with all of my lessons back then, I totally created this at

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the last minute with no forethought. The response was better than usual to my previously dismal teaching events, but it was Greg‘s paper that caught my attention. Greg turned in no work in writing—none. I certainly didn‘t expect him to complete this assignment either. On the following Monday, Greg came in with a big box. In it, he had a collection of animal skins―squirrels, skunks, a raccoon and even a red fox. Greg had written a story about his grandfather‘s Black and Tan Coonhound, named Black Boy. Black Boy lived in eastern Kentucky in the same county where my father was born. In the box were some of the animals that Black Boy had helped capture that his granddad had skinned. He wanted to share them in science class. I was mortified. I was then strongly into animal rights and I was preachy about killing animals, even to the third grade children. I quickly hurried Greg from sharing any more with his classmates, especially the racially offensive dog‘s name. I clearly didn‘t get it. I was far from open and my pedagogy was far from culturally-reponsive. Greg was obviously hurt but I didn‘t care then as I was ―protecting‖ the other children from this ―backward hick.‖ Throughout my life, I have never seen one of my third grade students from that school where I taught three years. I have run into Greg on four separate occasions. When he was in junior high school at a football game, I sat behind him and he defiantly told me he was now getting A‘s in science, not C‘s as he had in my classes in third grade. A year later, he didn‘t even acknowledge me when I called over to him in an empty restaurant. About ten years ago, now a young man in his twenties, I saw him shopping. We looked right at each other, eye to eye, and he walked by without recognition. He was peeved! Then last summer, I was completing a weight training session at a gym and a man tapped me on the shoulder as I was resting. It was Greg, in his early thirties, and he said, ―You don‘t remember me, but…‖ I stopped him and told him that I did remember him well. ―I just wanted to thank you for taking us on the nature trail so much. I just completed a degree in biology at U.C. and it was because you did so many cool outside things with us at school. You were my favorite teacher.‖ I was speechless. I wanted then to apologize at that moment but he soon added, ―You even let me bring in some old animal skins of my grandpa‘s. That was the best.‖ ―That was the best, Greg. You‘ve made my year I told him.‖ Actually, he made my lifetime.

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Greg gave me credit for what he described as one of the best things that happened to him. I take no credit for this—I cannot—but I began at that point to see what teaching was really about. It was about giving students what would make them all that they could be by using all that made them who they were. Teaching should help students discover ―self.‖ For at least one student, I did that simply and by accident because I took time to find ways for him and the other students to use what they brought with them as a means of learning. For this reason, Greg must have a piece in my life mosaic. In Chapter Three I compared my research methodology to that of a mosaic-crafter. I want to complete that comparison now at the end of this research text. My goal was for my research to emerge from me, much as the mosaic emerges from the mosaic maker. I envisioned a random pattern, gathered the pieces and cemented the pieces together and created a work. This work I have created is as much a part of me as anything else that I have labored over. When I began my work I had no idea that so much of who I am would be revealed, and, in the process, I have also made personal discoveries that I now see have guided my current roles as a science educator, family member, and dog parent. I recognize now that identity is a continuous process of construction and reconstruction of self. We begin this process early, and throughout our lives, education, that is schooling in its most formal sense, is a mighty force that attempts to shape us into a particular version of self, an individual who possesses the characteristics of the masses, the mainstream. It happened to me as a student in suburban Grant County. It happens today, not just in this county, but in classrooms across the nation. Classrooms filled with diverse students whose background knowledge, whose life experiences, whose home languages, and whose cultural heritages are not being recognized, celebrated and used to allow these students to construct their own identities and to affirm and to preserve ―self.‖ My contribution to the research adds another layer to the need for change within teaching and teacher education, the need for culturally responsive instruction. I have come to view myself as a radical teacher-educator who encourages fellow teachers to rethink the nature and purpose of education around the structure and outcomes of their own educational experiences.

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My research has convinced me of the need for reform in teacher education programs to set forth goals to nurture socially-responsible, culturally-sensitive, and equity-conscious teachers. I will forever be changed as I continue creating my life mosaic as I work with learners in more science education experiences. The use then of this mosaic I have crafted is a starting place for transformation—transformation as a means of placing together the practices that will help teachers become socioculturally responsive as they appreciate taking children into new learning spaces. In those spaces, children need to become reacquainted with the local, for it is in the local that last change occurs. Sobel (2004) identified these practices as understanding place and its role in education; taking responsibility for learning about students‘ culture and community; using student culture as a basis for learning; and connecting students to a sociopolitical local consciousness. My study has focused on the discourse of rural Appalachian children in a middle school setting. It is important that my research be viewed from as many different perspectives as possible. Only then will it be possible for both veteran and preservice educators to gain a new critique.

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