Ladson-Billings - Culturally Relevant Pedagogy 2.0
Ladson-Billings - Culturally Relevant Pedagogy 2.0
Ladson-Billings - Culturally Relevant Pedagogy 2.0
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GLORIA LADSON-BILLINGS n.a
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University of Wisconsin–Madison np
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In this article, Ladson-Billings reflects on the history of her theory of culturally /he
r/a
relevant pedagogy and the ways it has been used and misused since its inception. rti
She argues for the importance of dynamic scholarship and suggests that it is time for cle
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a “remix” of her original theory: culturally sustaining pedagogy, as proposed by pd
f/8
Paris (2012). Ladson-Billings discusses her work with the hip-hop and spoken word 4/1
/74
pro- gram First Wave as an example of how culturally sustaining pedagogy /21
12
allows for a fluid understanding of culture, and a teaching practice that explicitly 22
engages questions of equity and justice. Influenced by her experience with the First 7/h
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Wave pro- gram, Ladson-Billings welcomes the burgeoning literature on culturally _8
4_
sustaining pedagogy as a way to push forward her original goals of engaging 1_
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critically in the cultural landscapes of classrooms and teacher education rj1
programs. 31
48
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84
Almost twenty-five years ago, I attempted to make a pedagogical change 75
1.p
(Ladson-Billings, 1990). Instead of asking what was wrong with African Ameri- df
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can learners, I dared to ask what was right with these students and what Un
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happened in the classrooms of teachers who seemed to experience pedagogical rsit
success with them. Pursuit of this question has helped define much of my y
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scholarly career. My work in this area resulted in the development of what I Ca
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termed culturally relevant pedagogy (Ladson-Billings, 1995). When I began this or
nia
inquiry, I was primarily concerned with practical ways to improve teacher us
er
education in order to produce new generations of teachers who would bring an on
appreciation of their students’ assets to their work in urban classrooms 16
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populated with African American students. Through this study, I came to focus br
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on eight teachers who I found to be thoughtful, inspiring, demanding, critical; y
20
they were connected to the students, their families, their communities, and 21
their daily lives (Ladson-Billings, 1994). The way these teachers thought and
spoke about their practice allowed me to discover the underlying structure of
their work and describe it in ways that became useful for other teachers in a
1
Harvard Educational Review
76
students take both responsibility for and deep interest in their education. This
is the secret behind culturally relevant pedagogy: the ability to link principles
of learning with deep understanding of (and appreciation for) culture.
The newer concept of culturally sustaining pedagogy is built on the same Do
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foundational notion of students as subjects rather than objects. Given the loa
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relationship between the two frameworks, I enter this conversation not as a d
critic of what these scholars present but as an interlocutor. I hope to help those fro
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who subscribe to earlier visions of culturally relevant pedagogy make the htt
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transition to the remix: culturally sustaining pedagogy. For, if we ever get to a /m
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place of complete certainty and assuredness about our practice, we will stop dia
n.a
growing. If we stop growing, we will die, and, more importantly, our students lle
will wither and die in our presence. Both teachers and students can be np
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vulnerable to a sort of classroom death. Death in the classroom refers to s.c
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teachers who stop trying to reach each and every student or teachers who /he
r/a
succumb to rules and regulations that are dehumanizing and result in de- rti
cle
skilling (Apple, 1993). Instead of teaching, such people become mere -
functionaries of a system that has no intent on preparing students—particularly pd
f/8
urban students of color—for meaningful work and dynamic participation in a 4/1
/74
democracy. The academic death of students is made evident in the /21
12
disengagement, academic failure, dropout, suspension, and expulsion that have 22
7/h
become an all too familiar part of schooling in urban schools. Academic death aer
leaves more young people unemployed, underemployed, and unemployable in _8
4_
our cities and neighborhoods, and vulnerable to the criminal justice system. 1_
p2
Furthermore, this vicious cycle often continues with the children they will rj1
31
parent. If we hope to disrupt this cycle, our pedagogies must evolve to address 48
54
the complexities of social inequalities. Thus, the articles that follow reflect the 84
way a new generation of scholars has taken on the notion of culturally 75
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relevant pedagogy and infused it with new and exciting ideas to better meet df
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the needs of students. Un
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My [r]Evolving Pedagogical Stance of
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Despite the apparent popularity of culturally relevant pedagogy, I have grown or
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increasingly dissatisfied with what seems to be a static conception of what it us
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means to be culturally relevant. Many practitioners, and those who claim to on
translate research to practice, seem stuck in very limited and superficial notions 16
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of culture. Thus, the fluidity and variety within cultural groups has regularly br
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been lost in discussions and implementations of culturally relevant pedagogy. y
20
Even when people have demonstrated a more expansive knowledge of culture, 21
few have taken up the sociopolitical dimensions of the work, instead dulling its
critical edge or omitting it altogether. In recent years I have begun to consider
how the work needed to grow and change. As I continued to visit classrooms,
I could see teachers who had good intentions toward the students and wanted
to embrace culturally relevant pedagogy. They expressed strong beliefs in the
academic efficacy of their students. They searched for cultural examples and
analogues as they taught prescribed curricula. However, they rarely pushed
students to consider critical perspectives on policies and practices that may
have direct impact on their lives and communities. There was no discussion
of issues such as school choice, school closings, rising incarceration rates, gun Do
wn
laws, or even everyday school climate questions like whether students should loa
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wear uniforms (which typically sparks spirited debate). d
The perfect opportunity for growth, change, and expansion came to me fro
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when I began to work with First Wave, the innovative spoken word and hip- htt
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hop arts program at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. In the fall of 2007, /m
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the university’s Office of Multicultural Arts Initiatives (OMAI) initiated a dia
n.a
scholarship program (currently the only one of its kind) to support a learning lle
community of spoken word artists. Rather than simply developing a student np
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organization for artists outside of the regular academic sphere, OMAI made a s.c
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commitment to fully integrate hip-hop culture into the academy. Working with /he
r/a
this program provided me with an opportunity to make changes in my under- rti
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graduate teaching. The thinking behind First Wave is that youth culture -
(specifically hip-hop) offers some important opportunities for changing the pd
f/8
way we think, learn, perceive, and perform in the world. Despite being a global 4/1
/74
cultural form, it is still largely absent in the sanctioned university curriculum, /21
12
leaving students who are hip-hop artists to perform in extra campus spaces. In 22
7/h
response, OMAI program director Willie Ney designed a unique experience aer
that allows our institution to recruit and financially support student artists in _8
4_
much the same way we recruit and support student athletes, bringing hip-hop 1_
p2
out of the margins. Also like student athletes, First Wave artists pursue one of rj1
31
the university’s existing undergraduate majors. Many are interested in 48
54
education—some as teachers, others as policy makers. By scouting at poetry 84
slams, festivals, and cyphers, he identified students who were both talented 75
1.p
artists and academically eligible to attend the university. Although performing df
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is a big part of the First Wave students’ identity, they must meet university Un
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requirements for degree completion. This is where we began to see some rsit
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cracks in our programming. of
Many of the First Wave students expressed a desire to give back to the com- Ca
lif
munities from which they came, and the most common expression of this or
nia
desire was the aspiration to become teachers. However, the first few First Wave us
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students who applied to and were admitted to our teacher education programs on
(both at the elementary and secondary levels) came away deeply disappointed 16
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in the quality of the programs. Despite all of our expressed commitments to br
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equity, diversity, and social justice, the First Wave students found themselves y
20
in teacher education courses filled mostly with young White women from sub- 21
urban (and some rural) communities who still thought about people of color
(particularly African American and Latin@ students) in deficit terms. Over
and over, First Wavers left our teacher education programs, and the few who
were determined to pursue teaching as a career sought out alternative cer
tification routes, like Teach for America, hoping that they would find fewer deficit-
based attitudes in alternative certification programs.
In order to forge a relevant teacher education experience for students
interested solely in urban teaching, I constructed a seminar course titled
Pedagogy, Performance, & Culture. The course was open to any undergraduate,
but we were careful to reserve at least half of the twenty slots for First Wave Do
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students. In addition to the in-class experiences, I had the luxury of loa
concurrently running a public lecture series that convened directly after each de
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class. The added bonus was that each of the lecturers was invited to our seminar fro
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and students had an opportunity to speak one-on-one with them. Our speakers htt
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included scholars, artists, community activists, and media personalities with /m
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expressed interests in youth culture in general and hip-hop culture in dia
particular. n.a
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Although the students depended on me to be the “expert,” I depended on np
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them to lead me to consider new ways of understanding how popular culture s.c
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can be deployed to engage in conversations about critical theoretical concepts /he
r/a
such as hegemony, audit cultures, and neoliberalism as well as to develop new rti
pedagogical strategies. For example, before each guest spoke at the course- cle
-
required public lecture, I asked if someone was willing to “spit a poem.” The pd
f/8
First Wave students eagerly responded to that opportunity and performed 4/1
/74
pieces that brought their audiences to tears. They engaged us in diverse social /21
12
issues through their performances, such as domestic abuse, classism, violence, 22
and sexuality. Many times after a poem was recited, the speaker would look 7/h
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at me as if to say, “You expect me to go on after that?” The students’ artistry, _8
4_
power, and confidence helped reorient audiences toward the idea that 1_
p2
learners can be sources and resources of knowledge and skills—a critical rj1
31
component of culturally relevant pedagogy (Ladson-Billings, 2009). 48
Our class had aspects of conventional university courses: a syllabus, 54
84
readings, discussions, and written assignments. Students read work by 75
1.p
canonical social theorists, including Bourdieu, Durkheim, Woodson, and df
DuBois. But it also had some new and nontraditional elements. We did by
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close readings of what might be seen as alternative texts—hip-hop lyrics, ive
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videos of hip-hop artists, and 1960s-era protest poetry. The final assignment y
was a performance. Originally, I had planned for the First Wave students to of
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do a final cypher— a public performance that would incorporate concepts we lif
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had discussed in class—while the other education students created a nia
curriculum adaptation using hip-hop. However, I began to notice that non– us
er
First Wave and First Wave students were already collaborating outside of on
class. For example, the teacher education students who were in K–12 16
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classrooms began designing lessons and learning experiences that br
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incorporated elements of hip-hop. In at least one case, the First Wave y
students went into the practicum class of a non–First Wave student. One of the 20
21
non–First Wave students was a member of a forensics team, and she began
to explore how the spoken word pieces performed by First Wave students
might help her sharpen her technique by including more
dramatic pauses, using different facial expressions, and drawing out words.
Since forensics is an activity that typically relies on subjective judgment on the
part of evaluators, this student wanted to go beyond mere memorization and
recitation of pieces to deliver more dramatic renderings, appealing to judges’ Do
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emotions. loa
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As a result of this cross-pollination, I decided that all students would d
participate in a final cypher. I allowed the students to form their own groups; fro
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how- ever, my one restriction was that each group had to include both First htt
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Wave and non–First Wave students. The students had the opportunity to work /m
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with Professor Chris Walker, the artistic director for First Wave. Chris helped dia
n.a
them flesh out the conceptual elements of their work and link these concepts to lle
spoken word or dramatic pieces. My concern was less with the professional np
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quality of the cypher and more with the way the education research we studied s.c
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could be melded with this new cultural form that seemed to consume much of /he
r/a
students’ lives and outlooks. rti
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On the day of the public performance, the students convened in one of the -
dance studios and went through their final run-throughs. The First Wavers pd
f/8
seemed nervous about the limited time they had to develop their artistic 4/1
/74
conceptions, whereas the non–First Wavers were just nervous—the very idea of /21
12
standing on a stage in front of an audience seemed terrifying to them. When 22
7/h
the curtain went up in Lathrop Theater, the performances of the nonperformers aer
were seamless and fully integrated into their group. And, to my pleas- ant _8
4_
surprise, they were not relegated to background or chorus parts but were 1_
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prominent in each group’s performance. In at least one instance, a non–First rj1
31
Wave student developed the basic concept for the performance and did much 48
54
of the writing. The work surrounding the cypher helped me see how culturally 84
relevant pedagogy can engage what may appear to be the least able students so 75
1.p
that they can become intellectual leaders of a classroom. Most of the non–First df
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Wave students had never been in a classroom where students of color were in Un
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the majority, and in some of their essay reflections they admitted that, in those rsit
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instances where they had “minority” classmates, they never expected those stu- of
dents to be raising the critical questions and pushing the discourse. Ca
lif
To make this a culturally relevant pedagogical strategy of cultural or
nia
competence, I was careful to include examples of music, art, poetry, and us
dance tied to the African American, Latin@, and Southeast Asian immigrant er
on
cultures. The sociopolitical edge in the course emerged when we began 16
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discussing the curriculum controversy over Mexican American studies in the br
Tucson Unified School District (see Martinez, 2012) and students decided to uar
y
organize a teach- in so that others on campus could learn more about the 20
issue. 21
The experience of working with the First Wave students and teacher
education students who were looking for something more than our traditional
pro- gram underscored for me why any notion of culturally relevant
pedagogy has to change and evolve in order to meet the needs of each
generation of stu-
dents. My younger colleagues in this symposium provide the next iteration of
culturally relevant pedagogy. They call their work culturally sustaining
pedagogy.
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Culturally Sustaining Pedagogy de
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In the remainder of this introduction, I describe how the work of the authors fro
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in this symposium helps push the boundaries of culturally relevant pedagogy htt
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toward a new notion of culturally sustaining pedagogy. First and foremost, I /m
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am indebted to the authors in this volume for their hard work in trying to dia
n.a
push forward new ideas about pedagogy designed to meet the needs of all lle
students. My remarks concerning their articles begin with an important np
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lesson I learned about invention and innovation. s.c
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More than thirty years ago, I walked into my first doctoral-level course /he
r/a
at Stanford University taught by the late sociologist of education Elizabeth rti
cle
Cohen. Cohen was determined to have her students understand the importance -
of theory as a way to make education research more rigorous and pow- erful. pd
f/8
She was especially interested in what she called “status equalization” (Cohen, 4/1
/74
1979). This work suggested that the classroom environment disadvantages /21
12
some students, just by virtue of who they are. Characteristics such as race, 22
7/h
class, gender, language, immigrant status, culture, or sexual identity, argued aer
Cohen (1982), served to limit students’ opportunities because others made _8
4_
judgments about their academic abilities. Through years of intensive studies, 1_
p2
Cohen came up with an instructional strategy that would help mitigate students’ rj1
31
status characteristics. She called this instructional strategy “cooperative 48
54
learning.” 84
However, by the time I finished my degree and started teaching at Santa 75
1.p
Clara University, what I saw under the title “cooperative learning” in the df
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literature, in workshops, and classrooms looked nothing like what Cohen had Un
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pro- posed. Her comprehensive work to reduce status inequality had been rsit
reduced to an “activity” that people implemented to create a “change of pace” in y
of
their classrooms. The lesson I learned from this was that once you place an Ca
lif
idea into the marketplace of ideas, consumers of your ideas feel free to use (or or
nia
abuse) your idea as they see fit. us
er
I had a similar experience when I first arrived at the University of on
Wisconsin. My colleague Kenneth Zeichner was renowned for his work on 16
Fe
reflective teaching (Zeichner & Liston, 1996). However, he was dismayed at br
uar
the way his ideas had become buzzwords. He told me how weary he was of y
20
attending “reflective teaching conferences” where the substance of the 21
conference bore no resemblance to his explorations. In his own words,
Zeichner declared, “For it to be reflective teaching, you actually have to be
reflecting on something!” (personal communication, 1992).
Finally, I have had my own encounter with the inability to maintain and
control meaning—even the meaning of something you actually created. My
work on culturally relevant pedagogy has taken on a life of its own, and what
I see in the literature and sometimes in practice is totally unrecognizable to
me. What state departments, school districts, and individual teachers are now
calling “culturally relevant pedagogy” is often a distortion and corruption of Do
wn
the central ideas I attempted to promulgate. The idea that adding some books loa
de
about people of color, having a classroom Kwanzaa celebration, or posting d
“diverse” images makes one “culturally relevant” seem to be what the fro
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pedagogy has been reduced to. htt
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I share these anecdotes as a lesson on how information and ideas can be /m
eri
misread and misunderstood. Thus, the work of this symposium—to name and dia
define culturally sustaining pedagogy—will need to be a vigilant and steadfast n.a
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project that guards against the degradation of the meaning and implementation np
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of the term. s.c
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In an essay by Paris and Alim, we gain insight into the first attempts to /he
r/a
define culturally sustaining pedagogy. The authors graciously acknowledge my rti
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work as foundational but also argue that this concept needs to be pushed -
further. I agree. Any scholar who believes that she has arrived and the work is pd
f/8
finished does not understand the nature and meaning of scholarship. Paris and 4/1
/74
Alim make an important turn from what people think of as culturally relevant /21
12
pedagogy to incorporate the multiplicities of identities and cultures that help 22
7/h
formulate today’s youth culture. Rather than focus singularly on one racial or aer
ethnic group, their work pushes us to consider the global identities that are _8
4_
emerging in the arts, literature, music, athletics, and film. It also points to the 1_
p2
shifts of identity that now move us toward a hybridity, fluidity, and complexity rj1
31
never before considered in schools and classrooms. 48
In this work, Paris and Alim also push us to consider hip-hop culture as a 54
84
site of pedagogical possibility. To their credit, they remain critical of much 75
1.p
of the so-called hip-hop education that currently exists in our schools. They df
by
urge us to guard against the voyeuristic culture-vultures that consider hip-hop Un
ive
to be the next trendy thing that can be used to hook students, only to draw rsit
them back into the same old hegemonic, hierarchical structures. This work is y
of
nascent, and, as such, it is filled with tentative and still-forming notions of the Ca
lif
way forward. It has no definitive or prescriptive solutions, and, for some, that or
nia
will be deeply unsatisfying. However, those who do this work understand that us
er
not knowing is one of the most powerful tools and motivators for doing more on
and doing it better. 16
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McCarty and Lee offer another term with which we must grapple: culturally br
uar
revitalizing pedagogy. The salience of this concept is invaluable when working y
20
with Indigenous youth. Where Paris and Alim focus on postmodern realities of 21
language and culture, McCarty and Lee reach back to disappearing languages
that must be revitalized while also moving us forward in consideration of what
it means to work in plurilingual educational spaces. Can one retain and restore
a language in contexts like these? Furthermore, can linguistic preservation
and revitalization take place without sovereignty—national sovereignty as well
as educational sovereignty? Especially important in this article is the way that
the authors appropriate the central concept of tribal sovereignty to make sense
of educational sovereignty and underscore the importance of indigenous
epistemologies in making sense of the concerns and desires of sovereign Do
wn
nations that find themselves in states of dependency. The authors extend loa
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notions of culturally relevant pedagogy to embrace culturally d
sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy because they link their work to the very fro
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survival of people who have faced systematic extinction. For these authors, htt
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teaching Indigenous students is not merely about propelling them forward /m
eri
academically; it also is about reclaiming and restoring their cultures. dia
n.a
lle
np
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s.c
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If we want more powerful pedagogical models (see Joyce, Weil, & Calhoun, /he
r/a
2008), then our pedagogical practice has to be buttressed with significant rti
cle
theoretical grounding. Theoretical knowledge attempts to explain empirical -
phenomena, but theories “are more than merely abbreviated summaries of pd
f/8
data, since they not only tell us what happens but why it happens as it does” 4/1
/74
(Kaplan & Manners, 1972, p. 11). Thus, pedagogical theory and practice can /21
12
and should operate in a symbiotic relationship. If we are to help novice 22
7/h
teachers become good and experienced teachers to become better, we need aer
theoretical propositions about pedagogy that help them understand, reflect _8
4_
on, and improve their philosophy and teaching practice. 1_
p2
More than two decades ago, Shulman (1987) offered a useful rubric for rj1
31
understanding aspects of pedagogy. His notions of “content knowledge,” 48
54
“pedagogical knowledge,” and “pedagogical content knowledge” have formed an 84
explanatory paradigm for teaching expertise. However, Giroux and Simon 75
1.p
(1989) offered a radically different perspective on pedagogy in their call for df
by
a “critical pedagogy that takes into consideration how the symbolic and mate- Un
ive
rial transactions of the everyday provide the basis for rethinking how people rsit
y
give meaning and ethical substance to their experiences and voices” (p. 237). of
Where Shulman’s conceptions were seen as generic, allegedly applying to all Ca
lif
students, Giroux and Simon saw themselves as developing a pedagogy for the or
nia
subaltern, or underclass. These radically different conceptions of pedagogy us
er
represent the continuum along which the work on culturally relevant pedagogy on
16
and this new work on culturally sustaining pedagogy must operate. Fe
In our attempt to ensure that those who have been previously br
uar
disadvantaged by schooling receive quality education, we also want those in y
20
the main- stream to develop the kinds of skills that will allow them to critique 21
the very basis of their privilege and advantage. In this era of state-mandated
high-stakes testing, it is nearly impossible for teachers to ignore mundane
content and skills-focused curricula. However, teachers undertaking culturally
informed pedagogies take on the dual responsibility of external performance
assessments as well as community- and student-driven learning. The real
beauty of
a culturally sustaining pedagogy is its ability to meet both demands without
diminishing either. The articles in this symposium are wonderful examples of
just this kind of pedagogy.
Do
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d
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m
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