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Chickscope realized: A situated evaluation of a sixth-grade classroomMaureen P. Hogan, University of Illinois at Urbana-ChampaignAbstract This is a case study of two sixth-grade teachers from Mattoon, Illinois, who participated in a semester-long inservice to learn about Chickscope, a supercomputing application that allows students and teachers remote access to magnetic resonance images of chicken embryos. We called the inservice group Illinois Chickscope (ILCS). The ILCS inservice was grounded in inquiry-based learning theory which supports the idea that a science project can develop organically by student-generated questions and ideas. The data may be messy, the problems unforeseeable, and the solutions a surprise. More than just "hands-on" learning, it tries to capture "doing" real science. The two teachers, Clyde and Sabra, were excited to add the MRI images to their classroom chicken incubation project; however, they had only one computer for sixty children. In this paper I show how the ILCS human infrastructure and low-tech means enabled Clyde and Sabra to produce a successful inquiry-based unit on chicken weight and measurement. Introduction In the spring of 1998, thirty-two K-12 teachers from fifteen different schools in Champaign and Coles Counties, both in Illinois, came together for an eleven-day (five Fridays, one continuous summer week) inservice on Chickscope (Bruce & Thakkar, 1997). We called the inservice program Illinois Chickscope (ILCS). Chickscope is a web-based learning project, begun in 1996, by a diverse group of scientists at the University of Illinois. One of its primary features is to provide educators and learners remote access, through the Chickscope web site, to magnetic resonance images of chicken embryos. The first Chickscope endeavor (1996) was successful in immersing students and teachers into a small scientific community. Participants learned how to collect and analyze data, how to ask questions, and how to communicate their findings with others (Bruce et al.,1997; Mason-Fossum & Thakkar, 1997). In 1996, students could access these images in real time, and manipulate the remote instrumentation just like a real scientist. In 1998, however, remote transmission was unavailable, so learners used a National Institute of Health (NIH) data base of images instead. Using this database, students could go to the web site click on Day 1, Day 2, Day 3 etc., and pull up an MR image of a chicken embryo for that day, or any of the 21 days. They could also select parameters such as quality and view of the image (e.g. top, side, bottom) in order to get the best possible one. Some of the images were blurry, and children had to interpret what they were seeing, just as scientists do. No matter how students procured images, Chickscope allowed for access to technology previously unavailable to K-12 students. Besides acquiring images, participants also incubated eggs in their classrooms with daily care and candling and then usually kept the chicks there for a few more weeks for observation. During the week-long summer session, the inservice teachers worked on developing inquiry-based curricula for their respective classrooms I (the research assistant), along with the project directors Drs. Chip Bruce and Umesh Thakkar, were delighted at the variety of projects that emerged; they ranged from animal classification units to embryology lessons to egg art projects to reading chicken stories and jokes. The inservice afforded the opportunity for teachers to explore many different ways of "doing Chickscope" in their classrooms. With this human creativity, the project blossomed in fascinating and unexpected ways--even beyond science and math--to meet K-12 students' disparate needs and interests. Our goal was to ground the Chickscope in-service in the valuable theory of inquiry-based learning (Postman and Weingartner, 1969; Beyer, 1971). Guided by this theory, we asked ourselves: What are the important components of this project? How is it realized in different classrooms? One of our hopes for the inquiry-based Chickscope workshop was to see if teachers, by participating in a larger peer community, would come to expand their definitions of inquiry-based learning, beyond simply equating it with "hands-on" learning or "the scientific method." Unfortunately, this sort of reduction happens too often, as P. F. Carini (1994) observes. Drawing on the work of Adrienne Rich, Carini sees a parallel between the teaching of poetry and the teaching of science:
As Carini captures well in the above paragraph, science teaching should strive to go beyond the protocol of scientific method, and attempt to capture some of the mysteries and excitement of the scientific process, "the vital sources of science itself." Drawing on a case study of a Mattoon, Illinois sixth-grade classroom, and using a situated evaluation methodology (Bruce and Rubin, 1993), I show how inquiry learning took place in one Chickscope environment. My methodology is interpretive: postpositivist and constructivist (Denzin and Lincoln, 1994; Guba and Lincoln, 1989; Schwandt, 1994), for I maintain that social reality is elusive--never fully understood--and only approximated through our own subjective frames. Not to be glib here, but I do agree with Lily Tomlin who smartly quipped that "reality is a collective hunch." I also recognize that there is no definitive way to "measure" learning; I will instead strive to "capture" it through a descriptive and interpretive analysis (Denzin, 1989) and try to provide a vicarious experience (Stake, 1978). The data I use is from classroom participation- observations, formal e-mail feedback forms on the ILCS inservice, informal discussions and e-mail with teachers, and teachers’ emergent curricula. It is from these interactions, discourses and artifacts that I have come to the important realization that, interestingly, the web-based technology was only a small part of the creative process in this particular classroom. Indeed, it was two teachers, Clyde Self and Sabra Culp, (1M, 1F) who worked collaboratively (in a school where collaboration is atypical), their students, and the other inservice teachers across K-12--the human actors rather than the machines--that set this particular community of practice (Lave & Wenger, 1991) in motion. In the end, using mostly low-tech means, they produced a successful, inquiry-based Chickscope unit on scientific method and measurement while adhering to Illinois’ state science standards. One of the reasons for the low-tech nature of Clyde and Sabra’s unit was that, at the time of this study, the Chickscope web site was undergoing a major transformation and was thus difficult to access. Another possibility is that the Mattoon teachers had only one networked computer for each class of thirty students, which made it difficult (though maybe not impossible) to integrate into an all-class participatory design--which these instructors valued. If each child had his or her own computer, the results of this study may have been quite different. The ILCS workshop--with its theme, activities, conversations, support network, along with an attractive stipend, free high- and low-tech classroom materials, and food--buoyed Clyde and Sabra’s weight and measurement unit up to its most developed inquiry-based form. In other words, it was the idea of Chickscope, and all its possibilities, rather than the high-tech, web-based supercomputing applications, that seemed to motivate the teachers in this case study. Excited by their participation and development of new curricula, these two ambitious Mattoon teachers are now training other teachers through Illinois Board of Higher Education opportunities, and have also shared their Chickscope materials at a national conference in the fall of 1998. Thus, the Chickscope learning community continues to broaden. Hawthorne Elementary School Set in rural Coles County, about 200 miles south of Chicago, Mattoon is a medium-sized agricultural and industrial town in central Illinois. Hawthorne Elementary, on the north side of Mattoon, serves a predominantly white, working-class community. Clyde and Sabra, two experienced sixth-grade Hawthorne instructors and 1998 ILCS collaborators, are long-time residents of this area and have been working together for about five years. They both teach "all subjects" including science, math, reading and spelling. Clyde and Sabra describe the Mattoon community as conservative and thus leery of inquiry-based teaching. For example, they received some parental disapproval for teaching the novel The Giver, by Lois Lowry, a futuristic piece that brings up more questions than it answers. Similarly, they received admonishment for wanting to take their students to a Lucy exhibit in Chicago; many Mattoon parents with creationist philosophies do not approve of teaching theories of evolution. At one point, their school even had to send science books back because they had a chapter on evolution. Within this less-than-progressive community, the teachers expressed concern that open-ended, inquiry-based projects like Chickscope were not always easy to implement. Sure, raising chickens is fine. After all, baby chicks are cute, and learning embryology is important. But a curricula where students ask questions but not always find the right answers? Where teachers might not know the answers? Where experiments and collecting data is messy and ambiguous rather than sanitized and programmatic? That sort of teaching is still circumspect in Mattoon. However, when Clyde and Sabra attended the Chickscope workshops, they found dozens of other teachers supportive of their efforts. One of our richest whole-group discussions occurred during the summer week-long workshop, where we entertained the idea that inquiry teachers may be more vulnerable to criticism (both within their classrooms and the community) than teachers who employ a traditional, lockstep pedagogy. As one ILCS teacher said, "It is hard to be the maverick of a new idea or way of thinking." Another remarked, "You don't want to be the school's prima donna." Because of the difficulty of being an "inquiry instructor," the support network that developed among ILCS members became crucial. Inquiry, activity, and collaboration To organize this case study, and to exemplify its thesis that the social infrastructure was just as, if not more important, than the technological one, I am going to talk about three important themes that emerged in this situated evaluation: 1. Theories of inquiry 2. Classroom activities (including chicken egg incubation) 3. Student and teacher collaborations (i.e., Clyde and Sabra's students working in groups, the cooperative relationship between the two teachers, and collaboration among other ILCS participants) All three components developed from an emerging, sustainable community of learners and practitioners. Currently, the community is sustainable through a mailing list. ILCS teachers, as well as other interested educators, can join an on-going conversation or ask for advice if they want to do Chickscope or any other inquiry-based project. As I mentioned above, Clyde and Sabra have continued with their inquiry-based project by sharing their materials with other teachers at local and national conferences. Inquiry-based learning What is inquiry-based learning? In our workshop, we struggled to answer this question. No single definition will do because this way of learning allows for curricula that requires both teachers and learners to tolerate messy data, process, and ambiguity. It might also involve finding tools for scientific projects in unexpected places. Or, it may even be the case that an inquiry project will bring up more questions than resolve problems. In short, inquiry-based learning defies definition because it can look so different in various contexts. Educators wonder if it is a theory, an approach or a methodology. As Beyer (1971) notes, "It is sometimes labeled an approach, sometimes a method, and more frequently a strategy. Terms such as reflective thinking, problem solving, critical thinking, inductive thinking, discovery and guided discovery are often used to describe it" (p. 6). He further explains:
In this elaborated definition, Beyer approaches a more philosophical understanding of inquiry. For him, inquiry is a meaning-making enterprise and perhaps even a way of being in the world. As Carini might say, it captures "the essence of science itself." Importantly, teachers become guides or facilitators rather than depositors of knowledge within this experience. Below, Duckworth's (1972) words resonate with Beyer's "making sense out of what we experience":
Back in 1972 Duckworth described this kind of learning as, "the having of wonderful ideas." "Wonderful ideas build on other wonderful ideas," she wrote, "they are not had without content...Schools and teachers provide materials and questions in ways that suggest things be done with them; and children, in doing, cannot help being inventive" (pp. 222-223). Wells (1995), writing about language and inquiry curricula, agrees that meaning making is at the heart of inquiry-based learning when he wrote that, "meanings are made not found" (p. 4). Of course, inquiry-based learning is also about asking questions, as its name suggests. As Wells explains:
So if we combine Beyer's, Duckworth's, and Wells' understanding of inquiry, we can see that inquiry is about making meaning, asking questions, and promoting self-discovery. What were Clyde and Sabra's pre-inservice notions of inquiry? Of inquiry-based learning? Did their understanding of inquiry change as the spring weeks marched on? How? How did group work at the in-service help them formulate their working definitions? Their early definitions suggest that they conceived inquiry-based learning as a strategy. For example, in workshop discussions, they repeatedly lauded "hands-on learning." As Sabra wrote on one feedback form, "[In order to facilitate inquiry] we use a variety of hands-on activities and discussions in our classes." This isn't wrong, but it was interesting to see if their definitions became broader, perhaps more philosophical like Beyer's second definition above. Besides the connection to "hands on learning," Clyde and Sabra also made an early link between inquiry learning and Howard Gardner's (1983) eight intelligences (linguistic, logical-mathematical, musical, spatial, bodily-kinesthetic, interpersonal and intrapersonal and naturalistic). What do inquiry learning and Gardner's typology of intelligences have in common? It seems that the connection, for these two instructors, lies in a notion of "hands-on learning," or "learning by doing," where students access different intelligences in their repertoire (beyond traditional literacy/numeracy-based ones) in order to address a dilemma. Here, the link is elucidated: Multiple intelligences, like inquiry-based learning, are tools for problem solving. According to Clyde and Sabra, students should be allowed to access a number of "intelligences" in order to tackle problems. At times, this may include using one's body as much as possible, to discover, to ask questions, to build experimental apparatuses. The kinesthetic approach may take you (your body) out of the classroom and into the field, to collect data (like leaves or insects), or to build (an ant farm or a terrarium), perhaps. In all cases, some kind of physical movement is involved. To solve problems, children may also need to visualize beyond the weary written word or mundane mathematical equation: MRI images, charts, graphs, cartoons, models and drawings can be useful tools for using visual intelligence in order to understand a problem. Group work, accessing ones interpersonal intelligence, is another important component of problem solving. Clyde and Sabra carry out most of their classroom activities with children organized in small groups of five or six. The children know which group they are in, who the leader is, and who is responsible for what work. Group work is more than just doing things together. Rather, it implies some jigsawing activities so that each student has an important contribution, and where no one simply relies on peers to complete a task. As Kaye (1992) explains, "learners constituted into groups are not necessarily learning collaboratively...[it is] shared goals and an explicit intention to `add value', to create something new or different through the collaboration, as opposed to simply exchanging information or passing on instructions" (p. 2). We may begin to see the link between multiple intelligences and inquiry-based learning. They would sure seem to complement one another, and Gardener's scheme is an appropriate point of departure, but are they really the same? Later, when their exploration of inquiry learning grew, and when the Chickscope in-service's social infrastructure congealed, Clyde and Sabra made this Gardnerian connection as a way to make inquiry-learning possible (so, as a vehicle or mechanism rather than a "tool") for all kids, no matter what their race, gender, class, ability or other important identity marker is. Though the teachers made no direct mention of race, class or gender, they did express the importance of validating different learning styles by being mindful of Gardner's typology. With their attention to multiple intelligences, Clyde and Sabra are tacitly allowing for, and honoring, students’ divergent ways of making meaning. In this way, the notion of multiple intelligences is an important part of inquiry, and thus implies that Clyde and Sabra have expanded their definitions beyond "hands-on learning." Another important concept for Clyde & Sabra was "predicting," and they easily made the link between prediction, the scientific method and inquiry-based learning. "What will happen if you do X?" is a question that their students were able to ask several times, in different contexts, when I visited their classrooms. For example, when I visited Clyde's class in the spring of 1998, he showed me many student-generated artifacts. On one wall were several index cards with different amounts of dirt and dust stuck to them. Clyde had asked his students to guess which part of the school was the dirtiest. Students guessed the teachers' lounge, the janitor's closet and the hallway outside of the main entrance. To test their different hypotheses, the students coated three different sets of index cards with Vaseline and placed them in the three locations. After several days, they took down the cards, examined which ones were the dirtiest, and concluded that the hallway near the entrance was because the dirt from outside flew in on a regular basis. Using a simple scientific apparatus, students were able to ask questions, make predictions, test hypotheses, and then make a claim based on their conclusions. Importantly, students drew on their own experiences of being in the school to make their predictions. Also, Clyde was a co-investigator rather than a teacher; he himself had no idea which of the three places would be the dirtiest. As I mentioned above, in its simplest form, inquiry-based learning is about asking questions. But, for Clyde & Sabra, it also seemed to be about getting away from textbooks, and moving toward hands-on learning. Though this may be an important pedagogical transition toward inquiry, I can also imagine a lesson where hands-on learning is not inquiry-based, or alternately, where a textbook lesson is inquiry-based, so I do warn about such reductive logic. As I have cautioned earlier, inquiry-based learning should not be domesticated by simply calling it "hands-on learning" (you can still provide an air-tight procedure with clear-cut answers using this technique), and for Clyde and Sabra, hands-on learning was linked to problem-solving. They designed their Chickscope activities to enhance their students' ability to problem solve with unexpected situations, and perhaps even unanticipated creative solutions. Problem solving, like multiple intelligences captures better the spirit of inquiry than "hands-on" learning does alone. Of course, teachers do want to provide some structure for their students, especially if they have to prepare them for standardized tests, like the Illinois Goals Assessment Program (IGAP) test. Many teachers (including Clyde and Sabra) find a tension between providing structure and nurturing creativity. They cannot easily dismiss these responsibilities to offer structure and to prepare students for controlled testing, especially if the ethos of the school is working against exploratory ways of learning. Creativity is messy. A ludic classroom (Morris, 1998)--characterized by playfulness, pun, sarcasm and parody--is a positive milieu for encouraging inquiry but it does not look "controlled." Furthermore, it may not be clear how useful a particular activity is for doing well on standardized tests. Within this context of competing tensions and desires, Clyde and Sabra were able to structure activities which fostered inquiry-based learning. Through careful planning and designing, and while offering mutual support, these two colleagues were able to give their students a hint of what "real science" is like. As career scientists would surely admit, "doing science" is not always simply procedural, and recipes for doing experiments are not always available. In fact, if a scientist wants to discover something new, she or he will have to look outside of the accepted ways of doing experimentation. Scientists, like Clyde and Sabra's sixth graders, had to be imaginative problem-solvers. Classroom Activities Though Clyde and Sabra wanted their sixth graders to be innovative investigators, they were also conscious of standards. For instance, when asked on a feedback form (#2 of 5 total forms) how to facilitate inquiry, Clyde wrote:
Their goals for their students when designing their Chickscope unit were three-fold: 1. To troubleshoot potential problems with weighing and measuring the chickens--to predict what is wrong or what will happen. 2. To successfully carry out the Chicksope unit which focused on the scientific method, weights, measurements, and graphing results. 3. To transfer the above skills to the Illinois Goals Assessment Program (IGAP) tests. To this end, they designed a handout for learning mass and the scientific method titled "OOPS I goofed: What's the problem?" For this activity, small groups of five had to figure out why a particular measurement, like weighing pencils, was wrong. Using gram stackers and a simple balance, students were able to answer a question on the handout like this: 10 pencils according to my notes weigh 40 grams. "Why am I off?" This is quite different than saying simply, "How much do ten pencils weigh?" What Clyde and Sabra hoped to achieve with this worksheet was to introduce their students to troubleshooting when doing science, because not all experiments are set up perfectly in the first place, nor do they necessarily run smoothly even when well planned. This is the nature of scientific inquiry. The message they conveyed to their students is that mistakes are fine, maybe even inevitable. Learning is a process that can be open-ended and messy, and teachers are co-learners and guides. The ability to troubleshoot came in handy later when the students confronted problems identifying, weighing and measuring their newly hatched chicks. Incubation. Incubating the fertilized chicken eggs is the first thing you have to do, but also the first thing that you have to do with great care. Incubation is fraught with potential problems because, as Dean Grosshandler (1997) points out,"[It] is meant to substitute for a complex organism: a brooding hen" (p. 3). Potential problems include controlling temperature, humidity, air flow and vibrations, as well as turning the eggs regularly. Additionally, bacterial contamination, dead or unhealthy embryos, as well as the number of eggs in the incubator can all upset ideal hatching conditions (Grosshandler, 1997, pp. 3-6). Furthermore, consequences for improper incubation may be severe because the chicks either might not hatch, or hatch sickly and weak and then die. I do not want to suggest that failure is all bad; indeed, it provides valuable lessons. The problem with hatching failure in this particular context--a sixth-grade classroom--is that it can lead to distraught children. In this case, the Mattoon teachers wanted to ensure a positive experience, because as Clyde said at our first ILCS workshop, "You don't want a bunch of sixth graders crying and praying over dead chicks." Both teachers incubated in their respective classrooms. Because of past failures, they were vigilant about addressing questions to the panel of agricultural experts during one of the early workshops. Their questions included: Exactly how do you control the temperature? How much water should you add to get the correct humidity level? How often do we turn the eggs? How do we keep students from bumping the incubator? In fact, Clyde asked more questions than any other ILCS participant that day. To further support a successful hatching, Clyde and Sabra took turns coming in on the weekends to turn the eggs. These teachers' careful attention to the incubation process--their need to control and preempt failure--comes from their four-year experience hatching in the classroom, and their concern over their students' disappointment should the chicks not survive. One might argue that a true inquiry class would allow, and even celebrate, such misfortune as a way of learning from failure. However, in this context, incubating the eggs as "correctly" and "successfully" as possible became Clyde and Sabra's utmost concern. Herein may lie an important limitation of inquiry-based learning: At times, teachers may want to administer careful control over a project in the interest of protecting (especially young) learners. Everything has its limitations, and inquiry-based learning should be designed with a specific classroom context in mind. Clyde and Sabra's careful incubation paid off. On March 11, 1998, Day 15 of chick incubation at Hawthorne, Clyde sent the following e-mail (subject title: What a total Blast) to Dr. Umesh Thakkar, one of the project administrators:
According to Clyde, this Chicksope classroom was clearly one of learning and engagement. But how do we measure engagement? It cannot be easily quantified, but can be substantiated when the teacher sees that kids are asking questions, using new vocabulary (e.g., "germ spot"), participating without solicitation, staying late to complete tasks, self-directing their activities, transferring learned concepts to new situations, and expressing positive affect (e.g., smiling, laughing, and cuddling the chicks). Nonetheless, like in any inquiry-based classroom, teachers must anticipate problems. In fact, addressing unforeseen dilemmas is what makes inquiry learning both exhilarating and, perhaps, frustrating. In the same e-mail, Clyde writes:
Umesh had shared this e-mail with me and asked me to come up with ideas for the chick identification problem. I was planning to visit their school a few days later, so I had some time to think about it. At a Mexican restaurant that weekend, I asked my friend how we should mark the chicks. He suggested putting nail polish on their feet. I thought this was a pretty good idea (it sounded better than Clyde's colored marker idea; I thought the markers would smear or wash off to easily), so I bought many different colors of polish the morning before I left for Mattoon. Coincidentally, I got talking to the clerk at the dollar store where I bought the bright glosses. She told me she was studying animal sciences at the University of Illinois. "Will the nail polish hurt the chicks?" I asked. "Oh no, she assured me, "you can even put the markings right on their heads. It will last for several days, but eventually the marked feathers will molt off." These two people, my friend and the sales clerk, helped me to solve the problem. They too became unexpected (though marginal) participants in the Chickscope community of learners. Inquiry learning, at its best, allows for these kinds of surprises. The first day I visited Hawthorne School, a few chicks started pipping. The children were so excited that they kept running up to the incubator (with a large sign on it, "NO BUMPING") to watch for any new developments. During this time, the children were getting practice with the gramstackers and balances in order to prepare for the weighing and measuring of the chickens once they hatched. They had also been preparing by inquiring about the dirtiest spots in their school, as I mentioned above. In short, they were learning how to become scientists and to appreciate "the vital sources of science itself." Clyde and Sabra had well prepared their minds and spirits for the Chickscope unit. A few days later, most of Clyde’s chickens had hatched. I made another trip to Mattoon to see the birds, the students, and the teachers in action. Unfortunately, a half dozen or so of Sabra's chicks did not survive. They were born with their internal organs on the outside of their bodies, and were also stuck to the shell. Sabra told me she was glad that she discovered the malformed chicks after school hours: She did not want her children to witness these disfigured birds, who soon died after hatching. Again, we see the potential problems of doing "real science" in the classroom. The teacher must consider the imperfections of the process, and try to shield her young students from a traumatic experience. Weight and measurement unit. The next problem was marking the healthy chicks. Clyde and Sabra were using the same two batch of chickens for four different groups of sixth-graders, so there were four classes observing, measuring and weighing two broods of chicks. But each class needed a way to identify and name their chicks. So, the first class marked their chicks with different colored streaks of nail polish on their heads. Since we ran out of different colored glosses, some chicks had two streaks of the same color, or two streaks of a different color. Then, using their charts, the children named the chickens and put its nail polish identification mark near its name (Example: Fluffy, one pink streak; Darth Vader, two blue streaks) and on and on. After all the chickens were marked and named by all four classes, the children were prepared to carry out their weight and measurement unit. But how do you weigh and measure chicks? These hatchlings rarely sit still nor sit up straight. They are always bobbing up and down and toddling along directionless. How can you get accurate measurements of these squirmy yellow puff balls? Certainly, the task will be more difficult than weighing and measuring inanimate objects like pencils and erasers. Well, the children discovered many problems. First, when measuring height with a ruler, they found that the chickens would bob their heads up and down. Thus, each measurement was so different that the children did not know how many centimeters tall the animal was. What should they do? They knew they needed the chickens to be in some consistent position for measuring the height. So, as a class, they decided that the best thing to do would be to hold the chick on the floor and gently hold its head down, and take the measurement using a ruler. They determined that it would be best to do this three times for each chick, and then average the three measurements. If the procedure were used consistently for all chicks, every day, the children would be able to measure the chickens height and see how they have grown over time. But what about weight? The procedure seems simple enough. All you have to do is put the chick on the balance and put the gramstackers on the other side of the balance until you get a zero balance. Then you count up the total number of grams, and that is how much your chicken weighs. It sounds easy, but there was another unexpected problem. As the children would say, "Chicks poop a lot!" What if the chick you are measuring relieves itself on the scale? Is the weight accurate? The children learned that you had to clean up the waste, and they try weighing the bird again. They did this three times, and then averaged the three weighings. Clyde and Sabra told me that
In order to keep track of the weights and measurements, the children carefully logged the changes every other day on their CHICK OBSERVATION CHART. The chart also has places for the children to record the name, age, color, and general description of the chicken. The young ones could not believe how fast the chicks grew and changed colors, and they were excited to mark the changes on their observation charts. For the next two weeks, the children rushed to school to see their chicks. Some children voluntarily came to school early, or stayed late, to observe and help take care of the chickens; the teachers insist that the children have developed their respect for nature. The children were clearly engaged in the project on several levels. They asked questions, initiated discussions, took responsibility for chicken care, got their parents and grandparents involved (some relatives even visited the chicks at Hawthorne), learned the scientific method, and carried out a successful weight, measurement and graph unit. In sum, the way Clyde and Sabra carried out the Chickscope project was clever and admirable because it provided an inquiry-based learning environment--with some structure and lots of pre-planning--which thoroughly immersed the students in an exciting scientific learning environment while also being mindful of national, state and local standards. Many teachers rightly feel restricted by these standards, but Clyde and Sabra found their way out of feeling confined through creativity and collaboration. Collaboration None of this could have been done without their close working relationship. They have known each other for many years, love doing projects together, and support each other as much as possible in the classroom. Sabra told me that she and Clyde get along so well because they are "straightforward and honest with each other." They also share the same sense of humor, and are always amusing each other with jokes and sarcasm. Importantly, they also share a similar philosophy of teaching and learning, and find it important to travel to conferences to share that viewpoint. They co-designed the whole Chickscope unit, shared materials, and took care of each other's eggs/chicks when needed even though cooperative teaching is, as I already mentioned, not the regular model at Hawthorne Middle School. Furthermore, they came to the ILCS sessions and shared what they learned with the other ILCS members who gave them feedback. Several ILCS teachers borrowed Clyde and Sabra's weight and measurement unit, and then adapted it to their own needs and classrooms. Clyde and Sabra, like the other ILCS teachers, expanded their knowledge of inquiry-based learning through the ILCS workshops. During the penultimate ILCS meeting, Clyde and Sabra, along with four other ILCS members, answered these four questions about inquiry-based teaching:
For this activity, six ILCS teachers worked collaboratively to expand their understanding of inquiry-based learning. In this small community of learners, the participants came up with this persuasive outline: 1. Expectations of the classroom teacher:
2. How can you engage ALL students in the learning process?
3. How does the entire learning community (adults) become involved in the inquiry process? What are the different roles?
4. What is the role of the teacher as a researcher in the classroom?
Working with a small group of other teachers, Clyde and Sabra were able to brainstorm and carefully work through the four questions, and then came up with the above lists. Sharing ideas within the company of other ILCS teachers, Clyde and Sabra helped to create lists which helped them to expand their thinking about inquiry-based learning. Besides thinking about planning a curriculum for sixth-grade scientists, they also reflected on teachers' roles and expectations, community and family participation, and teachers as researchers. Clearly, this project was no longer simply about "hands-on learning." Clyde and Sabra were able to expand their definitions, and move toward a more theoretically grounded understanding that includes asking questions, promoting self-discovery, solving problems, tolerating messy surprises, making meaning, and sharing experiences. Conclusion This study demonstrates that Chickscope provided more than technology heretofore unavailable for students: It also provided a social infrastructure for a sustainable community of collaboration and learning. In this community of learners, K-12 students and their teachers discovered the wonders, advantages and difficulties of inquiry-based learning. Throughout the ILCS workshops, Clyde and Sabra at Hawthorne Elementary were exemplary learners, developers and sharers of this important theory of learning, and their understanding of inquiry developed significantly over time. As for their students, the collaborative duo are convinced that not only does this project present an exciting opportunity to learn about embryology, incubation, the scientific method, weights, measurement, and graphing, but also the children do better on standardized tests. Furthermore, they have noticed that "many students with learning disabilities, especially those with poor comprehension and verbal skills, have come alive since the introduction of Chickscope. Instead of reading (with difficulty) about animal development, they are now experiencing the chick development directly" (e-mail communication, 3/11/99). More research is needed on the effects of Chickscope on standardized tests, as well as how well it serves the needs of differently abled students. Further investigation into how materiality, class, race, gender, religion, sexual orientation and institutional constraints play into inquiry-based classrooms is also needed. References Beyer, B. K. (1971). Inquiry in the social studies classroom. Columbus, OH: C. E. Murrill. Bruce, B. C., Carragher, B. O., Damon, B. M., Dawson, M. J., Eurell, J. A., Gregory, C. D., Lauterbur, P. C., Marjanovic, M. M., Mason-Fossum, B., Morris, H. D., Potter, C. S., & Thakkar, U. (1997). 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