CHAPTER 1
Situating Identity in Theory, Research, and Practice
Picture this classroom setting:
Forty-nine third and fourth graders are seated on the carpet listening to music and imagining a scene from Pedroâs Journal (Conrad, 1991). One teacher, Ms. Martin, reads aloud a chapter from the book and asks students to write a response in their logs. After 5 minutes of intense writing, students are called on to share their work. A second teacher, Ms. Allen, writes examples of descriptive language from the studentsâ logs on a chart. Both teachers respond to students after volunteers have read their work aloud.
David reads from the perspective of Pedro saying the cannons on the Santa Maria went âboom boom.â
[Ms. Martin writes boom boom on the chart.]
Ms. Martin: | Very nice. I certainly do like the way David started his passage with the sound of the cannons. What were the cannons doing, David? |
David: | They were shooting to make the rest of the Santa MariaâŠ[go down?] |
Ms. Martin: | So what did they do? They went, and they got everything they possibly could use from the Santa Maria to build this new fort. There wasnât readymade lumber there on the island, was there? So they used the timbers from the Santa Maria to build a fort. And then I can just see it out in the distance, canât you? The cannonâs going to sink the rest of it. Very nice description. Emily. |
Emily reads from the perspective of Pedro about being glad to leave, being âhomeward boundâ yet still keeping âadventure and my dream.â
Ms. Martin: | But I will still keep what? |
Emily: | âmy adventure and my dream.â |
[Ms. Martin writes homeward bound. Ms. Allen calls on Nina.]
Nina reads softly, almost inaudibly.
Ms. Martin: | OK, Thomas. I really like the way most of you are sitting and listening for those juicy words. From the expressions on your face, I can tell that those words delight you too. I kind of pick up from your reactions to what people are reading. I want to thank those of you who are listening. Thomas. |
Thomas reads from the perspective of Pedro, âI am worried the Santa Maria will come back and haunt me in my dreams.â
[Ms. Martin writes haunted on the chart.]
Ms. Martin: | Right. Geoffrey. |
Geoffrey reads about Alonzo being âfull of excusesâ and getting a âtaste of his own medicine.â
Ms. Allen: | OoohâA taste of his own medicine. I love that. That would serve him right for leaving. |
[Ms. Martin writes a taste of his own medicine and full of excuses on the chart, then calls on Rachel.]
Rachel reads about bumping into the other ship, âWhat will become of us?â
[Ms. Martin writes What will become of us? on the chart.]
Ms. Allen: | What will become of us? Good. I love questions at the end. Ana. |
Ana reads so softly, she is inaudible.
Ms. Allen tells Ana the class could not hear her, and asks her to take her tissue away from her face.
Ana reads again.
Ms. Martin: | It reminds you of the journal you kept while reading the story. That is a nice reflection of your personal experience. Mandy. |
Mandy reads from the perspective of Pedro, describing the scene.
[Ms. Martin writes down three of the words Mandy usesâspied, thousands, and decided.]
During this teaching session, the teachersâ comments were filled with praise and encouragement; they pointed out specific features of studentsâ language, wrote down studentsâ words, and commented orally. However, certain studentsâ comments (e.g., David, Emily, Geoffrey, Rachelâs) were extended and valued, while others (e.g., Ninaâs) were not. The teachers tended to implicitly value students who used descriptive or metaphorical language or asked questions at the end. The teachersâ differential responses to students reflected their implicit assumptions about what constituted an ideal student response. However, some students who were not accustomed to using colorful language may have found it difficult to write in a way that matched the teachersâ implicit expectations (Michaels, 1987). Those studentsâ responses did not fit the cultural model of what the teachers had defined as ânormal and naturalâ for that classroom (Gee, 2001, p. 720). This, in turn, may have influenced how students constructed their literate identities in the classroom setting.
In the following chapters, I draw from classroom data to explore the impact of classroom practices on studentsâ identities as literacy learners. The next section situates literate practices, like those described in the previous scene, within larger discussions about the nature of identity, the role of language in identity, and the relationship between power and knowledge.
Reconsidering Identity
Tensions between conceptualizing identity as a process rather than as a category have provoked extended discussions in the literature (e.g., Yon, 2000). Traditional views have focused on identity as a unified, cohesive essence belonging to an individual whose core unfolds or develops in stages (Erikson, 1968). In contrast, social constructivist and postmodern perspectives have emphasized the constructed and dynamic nature of identity. Mead (1934) recognized the self as the result of symbolic interaction with significant others. Postmodernists have taken the perspective that identity is less coherent than social interactionists proposed, and have theorized that identity is multiple, fragmentary, and contradictory (Yon, 2000).
Sarup (1996) defines identity as âa construction, a consequence of interaction between people, institutions, and practicesâ (p. 11). Mishler (1999) suggests that identity is relational, that is, individuals make claims about who they are by aligning or contrasting themselves with others. Identity, then, can be viewed as a process that is constructed in relation to othersâ perceptions (Tatum, 1997). AnzaldĂșa (1999) stated this view quite cogently, âWe are clusters of stories we tell ourselves and others tell about us.â
Aronowitz and Giroux (1991) maintain that aspects of identity such as race, social class, and gender that previously were considered more essentialist in nature can be considered partial, local, and contingent on the situation. Egan-Robertson (1998) extends this view to define identity as âthe intersection of a myriad of complex sociological factors (e.g., race, class, gender)â within the historical moment (p. 455). In his study of Canadian urban youth, Yon (2000) found that students constructed their identities âin relation, and often in opposition, to the constraints imposed by gender, race, and cultureâ (p. 122). In her study of 30 working-class young women of Latina, African American, and European American descent at an alternative high school, Weiler (2000) established that the identities of young women from particular social class or racial and ethnic groups were far from unitary or homogeneous. She found that gender identity was fluid in that young women placed different values on schooling, future employment, marriage, and children; and that there were differential effects of schooling processes on their identity construction.
Because identity is the intersection of features at any given moment, our selves may be inconsistent or even in contradiction with one another (Belsey, 1980). We can take on different identities depending on the social setting, yet there are relationships among our different selves (Gee & Crawford, 1998). Bakhtin (1981) suggests that we engage in internal dialogues that are the result of the many voices we have encountered in the past. These internal dialogues are often sites of struggle, and through these dialogues we are able to construct and reconstruct ourselves. Sarup(1996) echoes this view by defining identity as âa multidimensional space in which a variety of writings blend and clashâ (p. 25).
The Role of Language
Language plays a key role in the process of identity construction. Belsey (1980) argues, âIt is through language that people constitute themselvesâ (p. 59). Because language and identity are linked, Gee (1990) explains that language is more than a set of rules for communication; it is an âidentity kitâ that signals membership in particular groups. He suggests that âDiscoursesâ include âways of being in the world, or forms of life which integrate words, acts, beliefs, attitudes, social identities, as well as gestures, glances, body positions and clothesâ (p. 142). Primary discourses are learned initially within the home and family, while secondary discourses are learned from being apprenticed to many groups and institutions. Discourses are communities of practice, and cultural models within a community define what counts as normal and what is considered deviant (Gee, 2001).
Bakhtin (1981, 1986) theorizes that inner speech is modeled on social discourse; inner speech consists of dialogues conducted with imagined audiences drawn from the many voices a person has encountered. An utterance is always responding to preceding utterances and anticipating succeeding ones, even if the speakers are temporally, spatially, or socially distant. The utterance focuses on concrete action within a particular context, yet is shaped by national languages, social languages, or speech genres (Wertsch, 1991). Bakhtin (1986) suggests,
The unique speech experience of each individual is shaped and developed in continuous and constant interaction with othersâ individual utterances. This experience can be characterized to some degree as the process of assimilationâmore or less creativeâof othersâ wordsâŠ. Our speech, that is, all our utterances (including creative works), is filled with othersâ words, varying degrees of otherness or varying degrees of âour-own-ness,â varying degrees of awareness and detachment. These words of others carry with them their own expression, their own evaluative tone, which we assimilate, rework, and re-accentuate. (p. 89)
Bakhtin (1981) describes two ways of assimilating social discourse by the individual: (1) âreciting by heartâ and (2) âretelling in oneâs own wordsâ (p. 341). Reciting by heart involves using anotherâs words in the form of models, rules, and directions. This is an inflexible kind of assimilation fused with authority that is transmitted not transformed, thus it is called âauthoritative discourseâ (p. 342). Retelling in oneâs own words is more flexible and responsive, making it possible to originate an idea (Emerson, 1983). Intellectual growth in the form of âinternally persuasive discourseâ results from the struggle between these two forms of assimilation (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 342). The internally persuasive word is âhalf-ours and half-someone elseâsâ (p. 345), yet it is not static and isolated, but rather a part of a creative process that can be applied to new situations. Bakhtin further describes âsingle-voicedâ discourse as direct, unmediated, and imitative, whereas âdouble-voicedâ discourse (p. 65) is filled with words of others, but speakers use the othersâ discourse for their own purposes (Morson & Emerson, 1990).
Because the word is âhalf-ours and half-someone elseâsâ (Bakhtin, 1981), a concept referred to as âventriloquationâ (Holquist, 1990; Wertsch, 1991, p. 59) and is continually shaped by interactions with others, issues of power and authority come into play. Social structures that give order are enduring and invisible in the normal course of life and control to a great extent what individuals can and cannot do (Lemert, 1997). School, as a significant social structure, serves to sort students in ways that reproduce existing inequities. Bourdieu (1977, p. 19) theorizes that âcultural capitalâ serves as symbolic credit in which one learns to enact signs of social standing and thus provides some students with higher social standing than others. Exams, rewards, and disciplinary procedures act to ensure success for those who already possess capital, resulting in cultural reproduction (Levinson & Holland, 1996). School knowledge is internalized through âhabitusâ (a set of dispositions), and what appears to be natural and neutral are oppressive practices that are political and historical in nature (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 19). Gender, culture, and social class are aspects of the hierarchy that influence the social context; the sense that individuals make of a situation depends on their relative position in that social structure (Lemke, 1989). Mainstream dominant discourses such as those practiced by middle-class whites privilege those who have mastered particular ways of speaking and exclude those who have not (Gee, 1990). However, because humans are agents, they can respond to dominant discourses by adapting speech patterns to the dominant class (Foley, 1990), or by resisting, yet also reproducing, existing structures (Willis, 1977), or by reconstructing themselves within particular spaces (Dressman, 1997).
Power and Language in the Classroom
Power is the means through which social structures sort people, âthe determining force that causes some people to get less and some more of whatever is considered desirable in a social worldâ (Lemert, 1997, p. 127). Ideological power, projecting oneâs practices as universal and common sense, is exercised through discourse; those who have power can use coercion or consent to exercise and maintain power. Individuals make sense of their reality and social positions as the domains of the interactional, ideological, and local intersect through language and text. Although individuals occupy subject positions and are thus constrained by particular discoursal rights and obligations, as social agents they are also active and creative, combining discourse types to meet ever-changing situations. Therefore, âpower is won, held, and lost in social struggles,â and âdiscourse is the site of power strugglesâ (Fairclough, 1989, p. 74).
Power is constituted through language at both the macrolevel of the institutions and within local classrooms. Classrooms have normative patterns or scripts for defining appropriate behaviors, and as cultural spaces, classrooms are the sites of tension and conflicting beliefs (Gutierrez, Baquedano-Lopez, & Turner, 1997). Oppressive practices can occur when teachers assume that students share the same cultural practices they do and impose their scripts on students. However, students can âre-keyâ the teacher script by creating a counterscript that disrupts the teacherâs (Gutierrez, Rymes, & Larson, 1995, p. 459). Although some re-keying is not successful because the teacher will not abandon the teacher script, other forms of disruption can result in the teacher and student meeting in a shared space: the âunscripted third spaceâ (p. 459). This third space emerging from the conflict allows student inter...