Chapter 1
Introduction: Theorizing Practices*
Norma GonzĂĄlez
University of Utah
Luis Moll
University of Arizona
Cathy Amanti
Tucson Unified School District
The problem with many empirical data, empirically presented, is that they can be flat and uninteresting, a documentary of detail which does not connect with urgent issues. On the other hand, the âbig ideasâ are empty of people, feeling and experience. In my view well-grounded and illuminating analytic points flow only from bringing concepts into a relationship with the messiness of ordinary life, somehow recorded.
âPaul Willis (2000, p. xi)
In this introduction, we present a brief description of how we have brought our theoretical concepts into this sort of relationship with the âmessiness of ordinary life.â These are the everyday practices that we attempt to theorize, practices that are at times emergent, perhaps counterintuitive, and sometimes opaque. Yet these practices do not emerge from nowhere; they are formed and transformed within sociohistorical circumstances. Practices are also constructed by and through discourses, the ways of knowing that populate our streams of talk. The lives of ordinary people, their everyday activities, and what has led them to the place they find themselves are the bases for our theorizing of practices. It is in the richness of telling these stories that we can find not only evocative human drama, but social analysis that emerges from its organic roots. Because this work has been a collaborative endeavor, we have relied on an interdisciplinary perspective. We have not always operated within a unified paradigm, although there are foundational premises that we have accepted as axiomatic, such as the power of social relationships in the construction of knowledge. The following section describes the emergent nature of jointly negotiating the process. Because we like to think of ourselves as engaged in a conversation, we present here the give-and-take of multiple perspectives, starting with the anthropological view.
THE ANTHROPOLOGISTâS VIEW (NORMA GONZĂLEZ)
We like to make much of the fact that in this project we are all learners: teachers as learners, researchers as learners, students as learners, communities of learners, and so forth. Actually, when I look back on the years that we carried out this work, the person who most needed to learn was me. I came into this project flush with anthropological theory, convinced that if only educators could appreciate the power of ethnography, the experience of schooling would be radically changed. It took a while for me to realize that what needed to change radically was the implicit ideology that had insidiously crept into my thinking: that to fix teachers was to fix schools. Although I continue to have the deepest respect for the teachers who have struggled through this process, I now wince as I recall my naïveté regarding the burdens under which teachers work. How can collaborative ethnography, where teachers are actively engaged in researching and applying local knowledge, be sustained when institutional constraints mitigate its continuation? An emancipatory social research agenda calls for empowering approaches that encourage and enable participants to change through self-reflection and a deeper understanding of their situations. Yet these empowering approaches must contend with a context that isolates practitioners, mutes autonomy, and pushes for standardization and homogenization.
Rereading some of my writing concerning those initial stages, I realize that I was quite taken with the postmodernist and poststructuralist discourses which, in the parlance of the times, interrogated hegemonic relationships and have done an admirable job of locating asymmetries of power and domination. What is not evident is how practitioners, within the limits of their very real structural constraints, can realistically carry out emancipatory and liberatory pedagogies when they themselves are victims of disempowerment and their circumstances preclude full professional development. Discourses of critical pedagogy have often become circumscribed within academic circles, peripheral to the very people they purport to affect because of a turgid literary style and an apparent lack of connection to everyday life in classrooms. It is the quintessential instance of being able to talk the talk, but not walk the walk.
How does the funds of knowledge concept differ from other approaches, and how is it useful? What did we do and how did we do it? What have we learned, and what can we claim? What could we have done better?
First of all, it is important to note that this project did not emerge fully formed, but evolved through incremental steps, some more useful than others. Tracing the anthropological trajectory of this project, I look at the early work of Carlos Vélez-Ibåñez in Bonds of Mutual Trust (1983), a study of rotating credit associations in central Mexico and the Southwest. Drawing on work by the Mexican anthropologist Larissa Lomnitz, Vélez-Ibåñez developed a fine-grained analysis of networks of exchange and confianza. Emphasizing confianza as the single most important mediator in social relationships, Vélez-Ibåñez (1983) claimed that confianza en confianza, trust in mutual trust, was an overriding cultural intersection for Mexican-origin populations (p. 136).
As director of the Bureau of Applied Research in Anthropology (BARA) at the University of Arizona in 1983, VĂ©lez-Ibåñez continued this research interest in relationships of reciprocity. In 1984, he and fellow BARA anthropologist James Greenberg received funding from the National Science Foundation to carry out a study on nonmarket systems of exchange within the Tucson, Arizona, Mexican-origin community. This study (âThe Tucson Projectâ) involved extensive ethnographic interviews with households in two segments of the population, roughly falling into working-class and middle-class descriptions. This work clearly demonstrated the extent to which kin and non-kin networks affected families and households (see VĂ©lez-Ibåñez, 1996, pp. 143â181). The ethnographic interviews revealed âcoreâ households, households (usually the motherâs) that were central to providing information, goods, mutual help, and support to a whole circle of other households. Because I was an ethnographer on the Tucson Project and a graduate student at the time, I realized firsthand the transformative effect of knowing the community in all of its breadth and depth. I had been born and raised in Tucson and felt that I was quite familiar with the cycles of life here, but the experience of talking firsthand to families, hearing their stories of struggle and hardship, of survival and persistence, magnified hundredfold the puny insights I held. I learned personally of the warmth and respect given to interviewers, and of the responsibility we held as part of confianza. In many ways, the Tucson Project set the groundwork for the methodological and theoretical bases of the Funds of Knowledge project.
THE EDUCATIONAL RESEARCHERâS VIEW (LUIS MOLL)
Here is where I enter the story. I arrived in Tucson in 1986 after working at the University of California, San Diego. I was not only new to Tucson but considered an outsider both culturally (I am Puerto Rican) and in terms of my academic background, as I am an educational psychologist collaborating with anthropologists. With the help of several colleagues, especially Esteban DĂaz, and in collaboration with teachers, I had conducted studies in San Diego that borrowed from ethnographic methods in researching both classroom dynamics and home life, primarily with Mexican children and families. Furthermore, inspired by Vygotskyâs cultural-historical psychology, which emphasizes how cultural practices and resources mediate the development of thinking, I had been exploring how to combine insights gained from reading Vygosky (and others) with the cultural emphasis of anthropological approaches. I will say more about this topic later in this chapter.
Two of our studies in San Diego were the immediate precursors of the Funds of Knowledge projects. In one study we used classroom observations and videotapes of lessons to analyze the social organization of bilingual schooling. We were struck by how English-language instruction did not capitalize on the childrenâs Spanish-language abilities, especially their reading competencies. With the teachersâ help, we experimented with the organization of reading lessons, creating a new reading arrangement in English that moved away from a sole emphasis on decoding and concentrated instead on developing the studentsâ reading comprehension while providing support in both languages to help them understand what they read. We were able to show that students relegated to low-level reading lessons in English were capable of much more advanced work, once provided with the strategic support of Spanish in making sense of text (see Moll & DĂaz, 1987).
A second study, conducted in middle schools and with the assistance of several teachers, focused on the teaching of writing in English to learners of that language. The study also featured home observations and interviews with families to document the nature and extent of family literacy. We formed a study group with the teachers which allowed us to meet regularly in a community setting to discuss what we were learning from the home observations and how it could be used in the classrooms. It was especially important that the teachers agreed to experiment with their instruction by including topics of relevance to broader community life and to keep a reflective journal of their attempts at change, which we would then discuss in the study group. Their instructional changes included more emphasis on the process of writing and in creating opportunities for the students to talk about what they wrote, which generated more writing by the students and many more opportunities to teach. We also found that the teachersâ study group served as an important âpivot.â This was a setting where we could turn to what we were learning from the home visits while addressing how to improve the teaching of writing (Moll & DĂaz, 1987).
These two studies formed the bases of the design of the first funds of knowledge study in 1988, funded by the Office of Bilingual Education and Minority Language Affairs of the U.S. Department of Education. The idea was as follows: to replicate the three-part design implemented in San Diegoâthe home observations, the after-school study group, and the classroom workâbut to base the household observations on the Tucson findings of VĂ©lez-Ibåñez and Greenberg regarding funds of knowledge. We called the study the Community Literacy Project (CLP). The central thrust of the work was to document the funds of knowledge and literacy practices of the homes we studied and observe the teaching of literacy in selected classrooms while helping teachers use our household data to generate new forms of literacy instruction in their classrooms (see Moll & Greenberg, 1990).
This project convinced us of the great theoretical utility of the concept of funds of knowledge in developing a systematic approach to households. In particular, we realized that we could visit a wide variety of households, with a range of living arrangements, and collect information reliably that would inform us about how families generated, obtained, and distributed knowledge, among other aspects of household life. We established that these homes and communities should be perceived primarily, as their defining pedagogical characteristic, in terms of the strengths and resources that they possess.
We also confirmed in that first project the importance of creating collaborative working arrangements with teachers. As in the earlier San Diego study, the teachersâ study group quickly became the coordinating center for the projectâs pedagogical activities. Within these groups, teachers were able to think about their classrooms and what they wanted to change, and consider how to use data on funds of knowledge to change their instruction. This first study provided us with the initial case studies of teachers successfully using the studyâs ideas and data as part of their teaching. It also became clear, however, that just as we were approaching households as learners, we needed to approach classrooms in a similar way to learn from the teachersâ work, even as we helped them rethink their classroom practices. So far, the teachers had contributed greatly to the pedagogical thinking and analysis of our research team but had played no role in the data collection of the household funds of knowledge. We set out to remedy that imbalance by creating the prototype of the funds of knowledge approach.
HOW DO ANTHROPOLOGY AND EDUCATION FIT TOGETHER? ANTHROPOLOGY AGAIN (NORMA GONZĂLEZ)
We return to the anthropological perspective. Many of the assumptions and methods for a funds of knowledge approach are rooted in participatory ethnography, and in anthropological theory.
What Did We Do?
The pilot Funds of Knowledge study began in 1990 with 10 teachers and funding from the W.K.Kellogg Foundation. A sister project, with four teachers, was funded in that same academic year by the National Center for Research on Diversity and Second Language Learning at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Although the groups met separately, the methods and format were similar.
The underlying rationale for this work stems from an assumption that the educational process can be greatly enhanced when teachers learn about their studentsâ everyday lives. In our particular version of how this was to be accomplished, ethnographic research methods involved participant observation, interviews, life-history narratives, and reflection on field notes. These helped uncover the multidimensionality of student experience. Teacher-ethnographers ventured into their studentsâ households and communities seeking to understand the ways in which people make sense of their everyday lives. Although the concept of making home visits is not new, entering the households of working-class, Mexican-origin, African American, or American Indian students with an eye toward learning from these households is a departure from traditional school-home visits.
Who Are the Teachers?
We strongly felt that only teachers who voluntarily participated should be included. Any project that adds to teachersâ duties and the demands on their time has to take into account the extra burden that it places on teachersâ schedules and lives. There can be little benefit gained from mandating visits where a teacher does not want to be in the household, nor the household members want to receive them. However, when there is sincere interest in both learning about and learning from a household, relationships and confianza can flourish.
Teachers participating in the project in its various iterations were primarily elementary school teachers, although middle school teachers from a variety of backgrounds and ranges of teaching experience were recently included. Minority and nonminority teachers said they benefited from the process. Even teachers from the local community said that conducting household visits was âlike coming home to my grandmotherâs houseâ and triggered childhood memories for them. One point that I found interesting was that the nonminority teachers who participated in the project seemed to share a background of exposure to other countries and cultures. Some had lived or traveled in Latin America, Africa, or Asia in their formative years. Others had parents in the armed forces, which had given them global experiences in the process. Teachers participating in the project were paid for their extra duty time.
A TEACHERâS VIEW (CATHY AMANTI)
As Norma points out, those of us who participated in the original Funds of Knowledge project were a diverse group. We represented a multitude of background experiences and became involved for a variety of reasons. We were all practicing teachers, however, and we were all volunteers.
When I became involved in the Funds of Knowledge project, I had recently earned my bilingual education teaching credentials. I was interested in this project because the first time I attended college in the early 1970s I intended to major in anthropology and was now planning to earn a graduate degree in that field. I heard about this project from Luis Moll, who had been one of my undergraduate professors. The school where I began teaching was targeted as one of the schools for involvement in the project.
What originally interested me in this project was the opportunity to combine my interests in education and anthropology. But what kept me involved was the impact it had on my thinking about teaching and the role teachers and parents play in schools. The school where I taught at the time was situated in a predominantly working-class, Latino neighborhood. During my teacher training, I was led to believe that low-income and minority students were more likely to experience failure in school because their home experiences had not provided them with the prerequisite skills for school success in the same way as the home experiences of middle- and upper-class students. The result has been that traditionally low-income and minority students have been offered lessons reduced in complexity to compensate for these perceived deficits.
My teaching experience did not validate the expectations I garnered from my teacher preparation studies. In my daily teaching practice I saw high levels of academic engagement and insight in my students who had typically been labeled âat riskâ because of their demographic characteristics. I saw they were as capable of academic success as students from any other background. Additionally, most were fluent in two languages! Participating in the Funds of Knowledge project allowed me to delve into this seeming paradox.
This points to something else all of us teachers participating in the original Funds of Knowledge project had in commonâthe desire to improve our teaching practice and a willingness to step out of our comfort zones to achieve that end. The first thing we had to do was step into the world of ethnography and become trained in âparticipant observation.â This was the catalyst for us to begin looking at our students and the communities surrounding our schools in a new light. Going on ethnographic home visits, then meeting in study groups to process those experiences, allowed us to take advantage of the reflexivity inherent in ethnographic research. We went from viewing our students as one-dimensional to being multidimensional, and at the same time we gained the tools we needed to create the bridge between our studentsâ knowledge, background experiences, and ways of viewing the world and the academic domain.
I would like to point out, however, that unlike typical ethnographers, we were not detached observers of our school communities. Nor were we engaged in ethnographic research simply to document the home lives of our students or rework social theory. We already had a relationship established with the students whose homes we visit...