The purpose of this study was to research the ways in which people explained the relationship between federal education and antipoverty policies from 1975–1981.
I undertook this task to demonstrate the complexity of the multiple sites of political struggle, where policy is made and negotiated, and to point to the ways in which education policies are always in circulation with and enacted among other polices. This demonstration can provide insight into how the social regularities (see the appendix for definitions) during the Carter Administration shaped the possibilities of U.S. education and antipoverty policies. Such a study would help me and others interpret the present policy options and our desires for social justice as events of a specific historical moment with its own possibilities and contradictions. In doing so, we can begin to engage in more creative policy making, which may help us in our struggle to improve the well-being of our children inside and outside of school.
My choice of this research problem has been shaped by my own history as well as by the time and place in which I am currently working. Because this work cannot be seen as separate from my own subjectivities, I use the “I” pronoun. Wilinsky (1989) advised, “Researchers must find ways of stepping from behind the disembodied voice” (p. 249). However, this does not mean that one should assume that this is the work of an autonomous consciousness. Instead, my experience should be read as a snapshot of my subjectivity, which is always “within the context of a fluid, changeable social setting, in motion via the interaction of a plurality of multiply-sited, diffused agents” (Lather, 1991, p. 42).
The subject matter of my dissertation was strategically chosen based on my desires to improve schooling and the quality of life of many children of poverty today. These desires developed out of the contradictions of our time, brought into sharp relief during my years as a middle school social studies teacher in a high-poverty school. In my school, I worked with teachers who heroically employed progressive and culturally specific pedagogies to support students’ ability to construct and interact with knowledge as their experiences dictated. In my own classroom, I hoped to create a community of learners where a sense of the self could be developed through a critical engagement with history. Most of the time I failed.
Although some teachers had moderate levels of success, we felt that most of our attempts for this type of education were systematically undermined by the very structure of schooling. These structures, which included working with over 150 students a day, seemed to be validated only by tradition and economy and had little relationship to a child’s ability to learn. Systems, which were reflected in the schedule of the day, forced students to compartmentalize their learning and created student loads for teachers that were too large to develop relationships of trust between students and teachers. Many of the children I taught struggled at home as well.
Whether the struggle emerged from neighborhood gang activity, an extra job after
school, or being in charge of their siblings while their parents worked in the evenings, most students had much more to worry about than the standards set by their teachers or the state. Reflecting on the struggles, I began to feel that if we were serious about helping children learn, then as a society we should invest more in their well-being and their schools. My experiences, while anecdotal, were not isolated. A number of publications, such as Kozol’s (1991) Savage Inequalities, resonated with my experience and showed me how much worse it could be. My teaching experiences also took place within a policy context of standards-based reform, which negatively impacted the interpretation of the purpose of public education in many schools. Indeed, the federal No Child Left Behind Act (2002) and state-mandated testing, regardless of their intent, shifted the focus in most schools from teaching and learning to measuring achievement. Rhetorically, the shift was intended to hold teachers and administrators accountable for providing all students with a high-quality educational experience. In practice, however, the shift drew increased attention to improving test scores and away from the authentic learning experiences my colleagues and I were hoping to provide.
The dissonance I experienced activated two desires. First, I developed a strong desire to investigate how we can continue to create environments that fail our students and their families, despite the best intentions of numerous professionals who work in schools. Second, through this understanding, I wanted to find a better way to advocate for fulfilling that promise. An avenue to realize these goals was the study of policy. Through policy work, that I might find ways to influence the agenda.
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