Critical Democratic Education and LGBTQ-Inclusive Curriculum

Opportunities and Constraints

Steven P. Camicia

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781134638352
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Inclusive Education

This book illustrates the relationship between politics and the ways in which lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) issues are taught in schools. This book examines relationships between society, schools, and LGBTQ inclusion in order to understand perennial issues related to critical democratic education, and how schools are responding to generational shifts in ideology. By conducting a case study comparison of California and Utah, Camicia provides an in-depth view of the politically and culturally different landscapes that shape LGBTQ curriculum in schools.

This book will synthesize and extend theoretical frameworks to describe, analyze, and interpret the shifting landscapes in public education as they relate to LGBTQ issues in schools. Through queer theory and democratic education theory, Camicia offers recommendations to public schools and teacher educators about socially just ways to create inclusive LGBTQ curriculum.

1
Democracy, Inclusion, and Curriculum

The curriculum is a site where the recurring question of the subject¹ is posed, informed by centuries of critical thought and creative scholarship reconstructed through solitary study and complicated conversation.

William F. Pinar (2011, p. 144)

Many societies around the globe are increasing their recognition² of LGBTQ³ individuals. This recognition has been illustrated by the legal recognition of same-sex marriage, which I will refer to as marriage equality from here on. Whereas this is a significant shift in understandings of gender and sexuality, it leaves many LGBTQ individuals and relationships unrecognized by the law. Because marriage in the United States has a history of patriarchy and opposite-sex recognition, relationships that don’t mirror this history are framed in terms of patriarchal, heterosexual, and gender conformity. This excludes a vast universe of possibilities related to relationships, gender identities, and sexualities. Although marriage equality is recognized by the United States as part of the 2015 U.S. Supreme Court decision Obergefell v. Hodges, there is a long list of discriminatory practices still aimed at LGBTQ individuals. This discrimination is evident in areas such as housing, adoption, employment, heath care, and schooling.

Whereas there is a long way to go toward equality, it is safe to say that there is a trend toward more recognition of LGBTQ individuals and their rights in the United States. With this trend toward more recognition, polls also indicate regional and age differences. These and other differences create a patchwork of various contexts in which students and educators participate in schools. The main questions of this book are: How do public policies around schools respond to shifts toward recognition? What does school resistance to these shifts tell us about the legitimacy of public education? How can we facilitate schools and curriculum that are inclusive and socially just? The connection between recognition and democracy is central to public schools that educate students to participate effectively in local and global multicultural democratic communities. I am using the term recognition similar to the way that we might recognize an acquaintance passing on a street.

One of the main hindrances to democracy is a lack of recognition of individuals in our communities. As I discuss later, whereas the perspectives of marginalized individuals and groups might be added to the conversation, dominant groups often define the rules of inclusion. Structures of communication enact values and modes that reflect dominant cultures or identities in conversation. Because these structures determine the process and content involved in communication, there is little chance that those who are marginalized by these structures can join conversations. Whereas on the surface, communication in public meetings such as school council meetings seems to be structured for equality, forces of power and privilege often determine the limits of who and what gets recognized as legitimate in conversation and deliberations.

Under such conditions, even if a perspective is added to the conversation, the addition is somewhat superficial because it is embedded in a larger structure of communication that reflects dominant assumptions. Curriculum, as a complicated conversation, reflects this phenomenon. Additive approaches to meetings or curriculum do not sufficiently account for the underlying workings of inequitable power relations embedded in communication. One of the ways to address inequitable recognition is to examine the ways that power shapes conversations, deliberations, discourses, curriculum, and forms of recognition. Additive approaches do not address the underlying structures in communication that marginalize the additions of individuals, perspectives, issues, and LGBTQ-inclusive curriculum.

Although some of the illustrations in this book indicate there are places of increasing LGBTQ recognition in curriculum, many other illustrations within this book indicate that schools still lag far behind societal shifts. One of the hazards of writing a book related to societal shifts is that by the time a book goes to print, the statistics become dated,⁴ and the book loses some of its relevance. Even worse, those opposed to LGBTQ-inclusive school policies can focus upon lack of current statistics to undermine attempts to make schools more inclusive. Rather than focus upon statistics and quantitative descriptions, the purpose of this book is to examine relationships between society, schools, and LGBTQ inclusion in order to understand perennial issues related to critical democratic education. I interviewed educators and gathered information such as instructional materials, media accounts, and policy documents in two contexts, Utah and California. My purpose for choosing these different contexts was to provide illustrations of the ways that context might influence the degree and type of LGBTQ recognition within public schools and, as a result, critical democratic education. Because the legitimacy of democratic communities is based upon the representation of those who are subject to policies, community members must have a part in the decision-making process. Recognition has a direct bearing upon the legitimacy of our public schools. When students, educators, guardians, and community members are excluded from the curriculum, the legitimacy of public schools is called into question.

Schools can play an important role in making our communities more democratic, but this has to be one of the learning objectives. Students, parents, and educators do not experience schools within a decontextualized social vacuum. Curriculum as expressed through policies, course objectives, instructional materials, pedagogies, and learning activities is designed, implemented, and experienced within the unique contexts of different communities. Because there are differences within and between communities, curriculum looks different from one community to another. In other words, individuals and groups experience the public school curriculum within a variety of historical and contemporary contexts that are influenced by culture and politics. How might these different contexts influence the degree of LGBTQ recognition and critical democratic education in schools?

The dominant political and cultural contexts of Utah and California are different in key areas. Whereas conservatives dominate Utah’s politics, progressives dominate California’s politics. The political influence of Utah’s dominant religion, The Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-day Saints (LDS), intensifies differences around public policy, schools, and LGBTQ issues. California has been at the forefront of social movements and policies aimed at increasing LGBTQ inclusion. Public schools are embedded in these contexts. Policies and curriculum are the result of conversations, deliberations, and discourses occurring within different cultural and political landscapes. These differences have a profound impact upon the ways that students and educators experience public schools.

Utah and California also have a relationship around the issue of marriage equality. The relationship between the two states during California Proposition 8 (2008), which defined marriage as between a man and a woman, illustrated another layer of complexity. Proposition 8 was supported through large contributions from Utah. In effect, the LDS church in Utah influenced the political and legal landscape of California in relation to an LGBTQ issue. Through a well-funded media campaign, the dominant discourses within Utah were played out in California politics. In addition, California’s Proposition 8 illustrated regional differences between the largely coastal regions of California that were against the proposition and regions in the middle and eastern part of the state that supported the proposition. This divide illustrates how different communities and their recognition of LGBTQ individuals are more complex than a Utah-bad/California-good comparison. Although dominant discourses within a state influence communication, localized discourses within communities and schools also influence the degree of LGBTQ inclusion. The characteristics of an individual school have a large influence upon the support and inclusion that queer youth experience (Martin-Storey, Cheadle, Skalamera, & Crosnoe, 2015).

Because curriculum mirrors different communities and the power relations within society, issues that cause disagreement in society are often the same issues that cause disagreements over curriculum and public schools. Disagreements occur in all subject areas (Zimmerman, 2002). There are disagreements over how to teach subjects ranging from mathematics to history. Because the power to control curriculum means the power to influence the future of society through what students learn, the intensity of curriculum battles can run passionately and deeply. Different cultural and political landscapes communicate different beliefs about the future of society and what students will learn about the past, present, and future. Apple writes, “The basic framework of most curriculum rationality is generally supportive and accepting of the existing economic, political, ideological, and intellectual framework that apportions opportunity and power in American society” (emphaisis in the original, 2004, p. 101). Curriculum reflects the knowledge of what those in positions of power in society deem important, as well as how those in power can maintain their power (Camicia & Franklin, 2016). Curriculum is often a tool that structures values and modes of communication that benefit dominant groups in society at the expense of marginalized groups. Even when marginalized groups and perspectives are added to the curriculum, the additions are embedded within larger discursive forces within the curriculum. These structures within the curriculum benefit dominant groups.

A good place to start examining such structures is to ask who benefits from the content and modes of communication within the curriculum. Which individuals, groups, and organizations, for example, benefit from curriculum decisions that are based upon standardized testing? Who has the most to gain from privileging the knowledge that is tested? Who benefits from standardizing this knowledge across local and global contexts? The answers to these questions are usually associated with the positions of the people who are empowered to make curriculum decisions. If, for example, standardization of curriculum is implemented by those who favor competition in markets over other educational outcomes, those people who benefit most by markets will benefit most from the curriculum (Anyon, 2006). This often comes at the expense of people who place other educational values such as social justice at the forefront of learning objectives.

As another example, history curriculum reflects historical narratives that mirror those of the dominant culture. Curriculum works toward constructing and maintaining a dominant culture’s perspectives and perpetuating racism through history curriculum (Leonardo & Grubb, 2014). The curriculum represents a particular worldview that communicates society’s past, present, and hopes for the future (Pinar, 2004). It is no wonder that differing beliefs about the past, present, and future of society cause disagreements over curriculum. As it relates to LGBTQ recognition, who benefits from excluding LGBTQ individuals and perspectives from the history curriculum? Who benefits from curriculum tailored toward prohibiting conversations and discourses surrounding sexualities and gender identities as they have historically been expressed throughout history? When these questions are not asked, the curriculum serves the interest of those who identify and are identified with dominant forms of sexuality and gender identity.

Inclusion and exclusion in curriculum structure the conversations and discourse within schools. Given that public schools have finite resources and time, the curriculum cannot contain the entire universe of knowledge. Decisions must be made on what is included and excluded from the curriculum. What is included in the curriculum sends a powerful message to students, but what is excluded can send just as powerful a message (Eisner, 2002). In a subject such as history, decisions need to be made about which historical figures are or are not represented in the curriculum. When individuals and groups are included, how are they represented or misrepresented? What do these inclusions, exclusions, representations, and misrepresentations communicate about what individuals and groups are valued by society over others? The answers to these questions are grounded in historical and contemporary power relations between individuals and groups and their relative abilities to control the curriculum. On the level of communication, the answers to these questions indicate what can and can’t be said about social injustices of transphobia, sexism, and homophobia. Although significant forces shape past and present lives and society, these exclusionary networks of power relations and the dominant groups they benefit go unexamined in curriculum.

In order for schools to increase LGBTQ inclusion and recognition in the curriculum, they need to move past the simple addition of perspectives to the curriculum toward a more transformative approach (Banks, 1994; Camicia, 2007). Transformation involves an examination of the dominant narratives that structure the ways that students understand the world. Rather than representing social studies subjects such as geography, civics, economics, and history as centering on a few individuals, the influences of institutions, social groups, and the discourses that validate these subject areas need to be examined. Illustrations throughout this book provide snapshots of the ways that curriculum can move toward a transformative curriculum that aims to increase social justice by questioning the dominant discourses that structure what can and can’t be known in schools.

When I started research for this book, I planned to work inside and outside of schools to find examples of critical democratic education that were LGBTQ inclusive. My reasoning was that positive examples could be helpful for those who would like to design and implement such a curriculum. I chose the different political contexts of Utah and California in order to highlight the different ways that critical democratic and LGBTQ-inclusive education is reflected in educational policy and curriculum. Different contexts provide a larger range of perspectives concerning how educators and policy makers move toward transformative curriculum within different opportunities and constraints.

Although the aim of my search was to look for examples of critical democratic education and inclusion, examples of exclusionary and undemocratic education were one of the by-products of my search. I was not completely surprised by these exclusionary practices, but I was somewhat surprised by the variety of methods used by those seeking to exclude LGBTQ individuals from the curriculum. Whereas I found some teachers who incorporate inclusivity in their curriculum, the surrounding policies or communities in which their teaching was embedded restricted the visibility of their work. Rather than focus upon individual classrooms, I decided to focus upon the histories, contexts, and policies that help or hinder inclusivity. The result was an illustration of how inclusion and exclusion form dynamic webs of power relations that influence students and teachers inequitably within and across communities. It is within these webs of power relations that curriculum and the discourses that influence them are planned and implemented.

My examination is not meant to be representative of large populations, but it provides snapshots of inclusion, recognition, equity, exclusion, and inequity that can inform conversations aimed toward improving educational equity and the lives of LGBTQ students and educators. My hope is that the illustrations I provide from Utah and California will open conversations about critical democratic and LGBTQ-inclusive education that might transfer⁵ to other situations and contexts. In order to increase the degree of transferability to a variety of contexts, I interpret the themes of transformative curriculum that can guide planning and implementation across the social studies content areas.

Rather than conversations about how to add identity groups to the curriculum, I hope to open conversations that transform the overarching narrative of the curriculum toward social justice. This is why I use the term ‘critical’ to modify the term ‘democratic’. An examination of inequitable power relations as is implied by the word critical is necessary in democratic education that fosters social justice. I also hope that these conversations will occur among a wide variety of stakeholders such as preservice teachers, teacher educators, in-service teachers, K-12 students, parents, administrators, community leaders, and educational policy makers. These curriculum conversations are likely to be, in Pinar’s words, “complicated” (2011, p. 144). However, if we avoid the complexity of these conversations, we are in effect maintaining an inequitable status quo. The only people who stand to gain from such avoidance are dominant groups whose objective is to bolster a curriculum that refle...