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This engaging book explores the porous borders of research with art, therapy and education, helping researchers reflect on their practice and consider more carefully the potential consequences and impacts of their work.
The Cooperative Extension System serves as the conduit through which scientific knowledge generated by the 130 land-grant colleges and universities in the United States is translated and delivered directly to its constituents. Since its inception over 100 years ago, Extension has been integral in developing, delivering, and applying cutting-edge knowledge in agriculture and natural resources, youth development, family and consumer sciences, and community and rural development. Today, more than ever, Extension will need to lead the way in building and maintaining sustainable partnerships across disciplines and with organizations at the local, state, and national levels to tackle complex issues considering diminishing resources. Bringing together leading and emerging scholars, this volume discusses how Extension is addressing issues and opportunities relevant to children, youth, families, and communities across the country both now and in the future. Topics include Extension's role in supporting childcare, social media use, entrepreneurship, rural communities, and underserved audiences.
Although individuals are exposed to a variety of pro-environmental influences in childhood, it is unclear which has the biggest impact on adult beliefs and behaviour. The aim of the current study therefore examined how formal sustainability education and childhood caregiver pro-environmental motivations, beliefs and behaviour, influence motivations and behaviours in adulthood. An Australian adult sample (n = 230) completed a survey measuring pro-environmental motivation, anthropogenic climate change beliefs and pro-environmental behaviour. Recollections of childhood caregivers’ anthropogenic climate change beliefs and pro-environmental behaviours, and formal completion of sustainability education were obtained. Hierarchical multiple regression analysis found childhood caregiver pro-environmental behaviour significantly and uniquely predicted pro-environmental behaviour. Moderation analysis found no influence from formal sustainability education on this relationship. Caregiver and individual climate change belief were associated, but caregiver belief was not associated with pro-environmental motivation. No differences in adult pro-environmental behaviour were noted when considering childhood sustainability education. Results suggest transmission of anthropogenic climate change belief and pro-environmental behaviour occurs from childhood caregivers. Comparatively, formal childhood sustainability education was not significant in establishing ongoing pro-environmental behaviour patterns. This research adds to limited existing literature demonstrating caregiver impact on sustained pro-environmental behaviour and provides possible future direction for promoting sustainable behaviour.
Reasonable adjustments are measures and actions that have been adopted in Australia to assist students with disability to participate in their learning on the same basis as their peers in a way that is free of inequality and exclusion. However, little research explores the enablers and barriers associated with implementing reasonable adjustments to support student learning. Therefore, research-based guidance regarding how best to direct the successful implementation of reasonable adjustments is required. This scoping review of 25 studies found a limited body of research that suggested reasonable adjustments are an effective means to address learner diversity; however, several barriers exist in teacher and school attitudes towards making adjustments, as well as how policy of reasonable adjustments can be systematically applied. A model of best practice summarises a strategy to address these significant themes.
The University of British Columbia (UBC) opened Canada’s first International House (I-House) in 1959 after a decade of activism from students and faculty. Students had demanded an I-House to help them find housing, and to ensure that “brotherhood may prevail,” as the I-House motto promised. The I-House campaign received support from community groups that raised the funds to build the UBC I-House. UBC’s administration wanted I-House as a social center that could coordinate fledgling international student services and resisted the residential I-House model. Ultimately, UBC’s administrators won out and the residential component was never built. This paper examines the conflict about building a residence to house international and domestic students together, chronicling the competing visions of international student policy and services that were circulating at one of Canada’s largest universities in the early days of the Cold War.
A levels are usually taken around 16– 18 years old (following successful completion of GCSEs). In my research I asked pupils what they had chosen at GCSE (discussed in Chapter 5) and also what they were hoping to study at A level. As was noted in Chapter 5 regarding GCSE options, the Eagles Academy pupils’ A level choices were restricted by a timetable blocking system. As well as demonstrating inequalities in subject options across the three schools, Chapter 6 explores the different ways in which young people in each school were informed of and supported in developing a ‘package’ of ‘useful’ and ‘valued’ A level subjects which would help them gain access to (elite) universities. As with Chapter 5 this chapter draws upon the theorising of Bourdieu and Passeron (1990 [1977]) to consider the unequal and arbitrary ways in which different subjects become legitimised and constructed as representations of superior forms of intelligence; something which, it is argued, transforms social-class distinctions into academic distinctions. I also engage with the work of Bowles and Gintis (2011 [1976]) by reflecting on how education today can still be argued to be functioning as a sorting mechanism, whereby young people are sifted into labour market positions based on their social-class backgrounds
The inequalities noted in Chapter 5 regarding GCSE ‘choices’ re-emerged with respect of A level options. The Einstein High pupils appeared to benefit from being able to select from the most A level subjects (35), closely followed by Grand Hill who offer 32 options. The Eagles Academy pupils, by far, had the fewest options (22), and once more the options are arranged in a blocking system. This is partially related to the size of their sixth form. Table 6.1 documents the subjects offered at A level in each school.
In addition to variations in the number of subjects on offer, similar to the case with GCSEs, there appeared to be vast differences in young people's freedom to choose particular combinations. Grand Hill is very clear on its website that its timetables are ‘constructed around student choices’, meaning that their pupils are able to opt for any combination of subjects listed in Table 6.1. Grand Hill specifies that ‘it is very rare for a student to be unable to study all of their first-choice subjects’. Einstein High also adopts this choice structure.
Chapters 7 and 8 turn to the institutional practices and ‘aspiration work’ undertaken primarily by careers advisors which reproduce inequalities across the three schools. In Chapter 7 this is done largely through an in-depth analysis of notes from my observation of a careers event for sixth-form pupils at Grand Hill Grammar. The event saw numerous Grand Hill alumni in leading positions in society return to the school to offer support and guidance to current pupils. In this chapter I discuss my observations of the process by which young people are schooled in how to construct themselves as ‘well rounded’, how to ‘network’ and how to ‘get around the systems’. Inspired by the work of Annette Lareau (2011), I introduce and unpack the concept of institutional concerted cultivation as a tool to understand the way in which Grand Hill Grammar, equipped with an advantaged position in the field, works to cultivate within its pupils a particular disposition towards success. I show how the institution picks up where parents leave off in utilising their resources to cultivate young people in a concerted fashion to enable them to ‘get ahead’ in the competition for university places and professional careers. This chapter begins by drawing on ethnographic data collected throughout my research by way of understanding the distinct circumstances through which young people begin their educational journeys. I explore the way in which some bodies experience greater regulation and restriction within the context of the school, while others are afforded greater agency and freedom. In unpacking the spaces of the three schools I consider the subtly different messages of meritocracy and aspiration sent off by each institution. Following this, I go on to explore the workings of institutional concerted cultivation through an example of an alumni event at Grand Hill.
Socio-spatially embedded practices and meritocratic messages
When I arrived for my meeting [at Grand Hill Grammar] I was immediately taken by the school's grandness and peacefulness. The building was beautiful, very old looking but extremely well kept (not falling down at all rather sparkly and clean).
This book is based on research undertaken in three contrasting schools in one city in the South of England during the academic year 2014/2015. The research was mixed-methods combining an initial survey of pupils in years 7, 9 and 11 in each school, with subsequent semi-structured qualitative interviews with a sample of pupils and careers advisors (n=60) alongside field observations. This chapter introduces the three case study schools: Grand Hill Grammar (an independent fee-paying school), Einstein High (a ‘high performing’ state school in a wealthy part of the city) and Eagles Academy (an ‘under-performing’ state school in a deprived part of the city). The schools were selected as they enabled me to speak to young people from different socioeconomic backgrounds as well as presenting different contexts to observe the workings of distinctive classed practices and dispositions (or habitus).
This chapter begins by presenting the 2015 General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) results of each school (see Table 2.1), thus positioning them in line with political convention from ‘top of the league’ to ‘bottom of the league’. Public and governmental attention is often given to GCSE results, which are ‘misrecognised’ as markers in and of themselves of ‘a good school’ (James, 2015b). While assessment outcomes are a simplistic way to rank schools, GCSEs remain crucial as they are illustrative of the different political pressures and opportunities facing each school and the young people within them. In this chapter I challenge this simplistic notion of educational institutions and their ability to educate through contextualising each of the schools and their GCSE results within their history and the political challenges or pressures they may be facing. Following this I explore what lies beneath these headline results through presenting a brief overview of each school's history, governance structure, location and cohort information. Official school data is limited in what it can tell us about the demographics of the pupils attending. The second part of this chapter then draws on pupil responses from the survey to provide a more detailed look at the family backgrounds of the young people attending each school.
Thus far, this book has presented research findings which have sociologically explored the patterns of inequality in the construction of aspirations and in the experiences of pupils attending three contrasting schools. I have highlighted the systematic and institutional structures and practices which serve to reproduce unequal relations within the field. Chapter 9 turns to the personal to provide a reflexive account of myself as a researcher from a working-class background and explores the deeply emotional process of conducting research closely tied to one's own trajectory and life experiences. Amanda Coffey in her influential book The ethnographic self writes that ‘fieldwork is personal, emotional and identity work’ (1999: 1, emphasis in original). She argues that fieldwork can often impact us more than our participants: ‘The reality that the impact of fieldwork is usually greatest for us and not for our hosts should remain the firm reason why we should be open about our attachments to and emotions about fieldwork and our hosts’ (Coffey, 1999: 37).
Coffey's words around the need to be open about these feelings point towards a central point in Pierre Bourdieu's work, one that all sociological researchers should aspire to achieve; that is reflexivity. The concept of reflexivity has taken on many forms in different contexts, including within Bourdieu's own work (see Grenfell and James, 1998, for a comprehensive overview of Bourdieusian reflexivity in educational research). As such it is important to be specific about the type of reflexivity I am embarking on. Bourdieu argues that reflexivity is about ‘objectifying the subject of objectification’ (Bourdieu, 2006 [2000]: 10). He writes: ‘One should make it a rule to never embark on sociology, and especially the sociology of sociology, without first, or simultaneously, undertaking a self socio-analysis’ (Bourdieu, 1993: 49).
What does it mean to conduct a self ‘socio-analysis’? Coming from a sociological perspective, not a psychological or a psycho-social one, the process of self-analysis has been difficult. For me, what Bourdieu is directing us to do is to delve into our psyche and unpack the way in which this affects our interests and interactions. To understand how we are part of our research and indeed our research, in part, is a reconstruction of our own personal perspectives.
The chances of entering higher education can be seen as the product of a selection process, which throughout the school system is applied with very unequal severity, depending on the student's social origin. In fact, for the most disadvantaged classes, it is purely and simply a matter of elimination.
(Bourdieu and Passeron, 1979: 2, emphasis in original)
This quote points to the barriers facing young people from disadvantaged backgrounds as they navigate an education system where their culture, practices, knowledge, tastes and dispositions (habitus) are constantly and arbitrarily denigrated. One of the major reasons cited for this ‘elimination’ in respect of higher education (HE) relates to the ‘attainment gap’; young people from disadvantaged backgrounds have continued to achieve lower General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) grades than their advantaged counterparts. In 2015 only 33.1 per cent of pupils eligible for free school meals achieved five A⋆– C GCSEs including English and maths compared to 60.9 per cent of other pupils (DfE, 2016a: 21). Major government reports such as the 2003 White Paper touch on the need to ‘raise attainment’ but arguably not in any substantial way:
Success in opening up higher education to all who have the potential to benefit from it depends on building aspirations and attainment throughout all stages of education … young people and their families need to be encouraged to raise their aspirations and achieve more of their potential in examinations prior to entry to higher education. (DfES, 2003: 68)
Despite acknowledging the need to increase attainment in schools, there is no discussion in this document of how this is to be achieved. There is an apparent assumption that raising aspirations is the key to raising attainment. And this narrative has been notably pervasive within widening participation practice over time (Harrison and Waller, 2018; Rainford, 2023). This individualistic focus is not unusual in government rhetoric aimed at closing the attainment gap, and it is pervaded by the discourse of meritocracy; the belief that if you work hard and aim high you will achieve your goals, regardless of background. Bourdieu argues that meritocracy is a ‘sociodicy’, an ideological tool used to mask the real structural inequality in the system (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1979). Similarly, Reay argues that ‘[t] he myth of meritocracy normalises inequalities, converting them into individual rather than collective responsibilities’ (Reay, 1998a: 1).
You’ve got to get out there and find people, win them over, get them to raise aspirations, get them to think they can get all the way to the top.
(David Cameron cited in BBC, 2013)
Amidst a climate of intensive aspiration-raising policies sit three schools, each one housing young people from different social-class backgrounds, yet each one equally full to the brim of pupils bursting with aspirations, hopes and dreams for a ‘brighter future’. These schools, however, do not equally enable any possible future for any possible student. Through their unique resources (material and symbolic), structures and practices these different schools work to distinguish some young people from the rest. Thus, in response to the quote that opens this chapter, I would pose the question to David Cameron: ‘And then what?’ What is the outcome of encouraging a generation of young people to ‘think they can get all the way to the top’ without investing material resources in them, without ensuring that they all have the tools to fulfil these aspirations? This book has engaged with this question as it sought to investigate the experiences of young people in three contrasting schools as they envisioned their futures in the context of a deep political rhetoric around aiming high yet unequally armed with the opportunities to see their dreams come to fruition. How did they construct their ‘aspirations’ in line with such discourses? How did they experience school systems which ‘block’ (or indeed ‘un-block’) certain pathways? And finally, how did the institutions respond to the contradiction inherent in the policy agenda; how do you manage aspirations when everyone wants a ticket for the same future but only limited seats are available on the train?
This book has unpacked the contemporary ways in which the English secondary education system reproduces social class inequalities through its structures and practices. It has done so in several ways. First, it has contributed to the literature on aspirations by paying attention to the ways in which aspirations and habitus are constructed in different contexts and at different stages (Chapters 3 and 4). Second, it has demonstrated the powerful ways in which institutional structures and practices intervene and interact with young people's agency, further restricting disadvantaged young people's ‘choices’ and career pathways (Chapters 5 and 6).