I am three weeks into teaching First People’s English for the first time, and it has been an incredibly eye-opening experience. In speaking to Elders, researching material, and spending time with my students, I have realized that the biggest thing I need to do as a teacher is to decolonize my practice. For ten years I have worked with First Nations students and I never realized that I had set them up to fail, instead of setting them up to win. By expecting that these students meet the ‘standard’ behaviour set by ‘settler’ students, I was confusing their learning/representing style with their ability. I imagine this is true for many of my colleagues, unintentionally failing to meet the needs of our First Nations students because we weren’t quiet enough, we didn’t wait patiently enough, or we didn’t show clearly enough what they needed to succeed.
After this realization, I decided that one of the things I could do was to place greater value on an undervalued means of representation that is at the heart of First Peoples’ teachings; oral tradition. This began my journey of research into the value of oral tradition and oracy in the classroom. I was not surprised to find how little this modality has been studied as a vehicle for representing and assessment at the secondary school level, but I was amazed to see how prominently it was being used as a more engaging and reflective practice at the University level. The following research has helped inform and defend my new practice of oracy in my First Peoples’ English 10, 11, and 12 classroom.
Article 1
Pearce, G., & Lee, G. (2009). Viva voce (oral examination) as an assessment method: Insights
from marketing students. Journal of Marketing Education, 31(2), 120-130.
While the first article I looked at comes from a different content background than High School English (the reflections are from a university marketing department), the observations made by students and professors were highly relevant to the work I do. Pearce and Lee assert through the article that vivas (oral examinations) can do more to ascertain and assess student communication, critical thinking, and problem solving than a traditional written exam. They also argue that vivas are more beneficial to students, as they continue to learn through the examination than in an exam that is a culmination activity with little learning opportunities in them.
In setting up the viva process that Lee and Pearce studied, students were given a two week preparatory period in which they were given practice vivas, rehearsal, and revision time. Students were given the opportunity to sign up for an examination time that worked for them over a two-day period and were asked to sign a confidentiality agreement so that the questions could be used for multiple students without disclosure. While students could choose not to sign this disclosure (with an option for alternate questions) no student did so. The key information that the students received was that the focus of the viva was to determine and assess what the students knew, as opposed to highlighting what they didn’t know. After the 20 minute viva, students were given a projection response in order to determine how they viewed the viva assessment process and what, if anything, it added to their learning. The number one response to the process was that students felt the preparation was focused on understanding the material to apply it, as opposed to memorizing the material to regurgitate it. While some felt it was not preferable to written examination, most students were favourable of its inclusion.
Throughout the article there were well balanced concerns and arguments of both assessments, viva and written. While there are many traditionalists who fear that vivas are less comprehensive, more stressful for students, unreliable and less valid because of assessor bias, evidence from a variety of studies, as well as the study reported on in this article, have shown vivas to be no more prone to these challenges than the more widely accepted written examination. Vivas also have an advantage in that they minimize the likelihood of appropriation of material and plagiarism. Further, students reported that they felt more richly rewarded when participating in a viva, as they felt more confident about their ability to synthesize what they had learned and apply it to a myriad of situations.
Despite vivas being used as the primary source of assessment in higher education in fields such as physiotherapy, medicine, social sciences, engineering, and many others, it is still seen in lower levels of education as a less effective method of assessment. Pearce and Lee would argue that vivas are a more meaningful way of assessing understanding, critical thinking and synthesis.
Reflection
This article, while specifically looking at university level assessment, highlights a practice that I have always valued, oral examination. I have often felt that written examinations do not challenge students in the way that oral examinations do. I would further submit that a true English examination would reflect the five key focuses of the course: reading, writing, listening, thinking, and speaking. An oral examination would do a more comprehensive job of covering these elements, as well as the added benefit of focusing on what student can do, as opposed to focusing on what they are lacking.
The evidence Lee and Pearce have provided asserts that oral examinations are a valid and useful method of final assessment, with the right supports in place. I would argue that this is a style of assessment particularly valuable in our First People’s classes, both English and Social Studies. It feels artificial to assess a course in which the main focus is oral tradition in a written format. Further to that, the students being assessed are, at the moment, predominantly First Nations students whose strengths are predominantly oral. Many students have had a number of key interruptions in their education, due to seasonal cultural movement, cultural practice and absenteeism. As such, their writing skills tend to be low, but their understanding is not. Allowing them to incorporate oral assessment into their learning journey allows them to improve both their standing and, more importantly, their sense of confidence and communication.
Article 2
Ilutsik, E.A., (2002). Oral traditional knowledge: does it belong in the classroom? Sharing our
pathways, 7, 1-4
In this article, native author and educator Esther Ilutsik struggles with the place of oral traditional knowledge in the public school system. She asserts that oral traditional knowledge was sacred, and not for public consumption. The idea of writing that knowledge down and making it available feels wrong to many indigenous educators, but the fear of losing it overrides their discomfort. These educators question whether or not they are following through with what their ancestors would believe reflects the belief that, “knowledge in the past was forever flowing to fit the needs of that age and time.” (Ilutsik, 2002)
One of the key challenges that Ilutsik and others identify is the difficulty of finding a place for oral tradition in a Western driven pedagogy. The heart of oral tradition is in daily teachings based in life, not in the classroom. It lies in participating in all aspects of First Nations’ life from hunting, gathering, communicating through song and dance, the preparation of food, and the organization of cultural events. Oral tradition uses language sparingly so that it may stay with the listener. It is not designed to be broken into units and assessed. Ilutsik argues that, “in this Western-influenced world we are constantly asked to categorize, so that we cannot simply say that the oral traditions encompassed LIFE, instead we need to be specific about the areas.” (Ilutsik, 2002)
Another challenge is how to ensure that this sacred knowledge and tradition will be treated with the care it requires by settler students and teachers. In a curricular system that divides and sterilizes units of knowledge into bite size pieces, it seems an impossible task. This is particularly true when considering how few First Nations teachers there are, and that those teachers have been strongly influenced by Western pedagogy.
While challenged by all of these issues, Ilutsik finishes her observations with an essay written by her daughter, a grade five student. Her daughter, Michelle Snyder, reflects on how traditional practices that have been incorporated into her public school education have helped her feel more connected to her culture. It has also helped her feel pride in her ancestry, as cultural dances, weaving, storytelling and other aspects hold as much significance in the curriculum as settler history. This reflection reaffirms how important the struggle to include oral traditional teachings is. This inclusion is messy, imperfect and challenging, but it is vital to the young people in schools, and to the strengthening of an often fading cultural practice.
Reflection
This piece was very powerful to me as a settler teaching a large group of First Nations students. I was keenly aware of my inadequacies as a non-Indigenous teacher, not in a pejorative way, but with humility. While I wish to bring cultural practice into the classroom, I want to be sure to do so in a manner that respects and holds those practices in high esteem. Her challenges reminded me of what my educational assistant, Philip Tom, told me on my first day. He said that if I walk with respect, curiosity, openness and understanding with the First Nations community, I will be forgiven if I make mistakes. I think Ilutsik is right in this way, settler teachers and students must have good intentions, open ears, and open hearts in order to bring oral teachings into the classroom if they are to do good. Otherwise it becomes another form of colonization, taking a teaching that is not ours and teaching it as if it is.
Article 3
Piquemal, N. (2003). From native North American oral traditions to Western literacy: storytelling
in education. Alberta Journal of Educational Research, 49.2, 113
Piquemal’s exploration of the inherent differences between Native oral tradition and Western literacy is the best reflection of the struggle faced by teachers, administrators, communities and curriculum development teams across Canada, but specifically in British Columbia. In her article, Piquemal asserts that the challenge comes from ingrained bias in Western education that devalues oral tradition, equating orality with iliteracy, and values storytelling only from a Eurocentric view that a story must follow a ‘conflict-crisis-resolution’ formula, which excludes traditional First Nation storytelling.
In order to understand this devaluing of oral tradition, Piquemal looks right back to Plato’s assertion that education must value the scientific method above all, that poets and storytellers had no value in a logic centered education system. This scientific underpinning of Western education does not just devalue oral tradition, it elevates a stance that education involves studying the universe as something separate and outside oneself, effectively devaluing the system of beliefs that oral tradition examines, that to understand the universe one must turn towards one's ‘inner space’. These systems of education and of belief are inherently incongruent, which reflects the difficulty public education has today in bringing those two systems together. The Western methodology of approaching stories and storytelling is to separate it from ourselves, pick it apart, find a moral, identify key features, and then write an analysis, whereas the First Nations story is to be taken as it is, following no particular formula, but embedded with layer after layer of meaning. It is not to be disseminated through analysis, but reflected on by each individual as the connections arise, sometimes after many retellings.
Like the other two articles, Piquemal’s main argument remains that, while including First Nations oral tradition poses a challenge to traditional Western ideas of education, it must be done. She argues that oral tradition brings a holistic view of humanity and the universe that is desperately needed, and challenges the notions that written text is the only sign of intelligent discourse. Truly oral cultures are a rarity in the world, and the more we can do to raise their value in the eyes of students, the more they can be protected. There is much to learn from oral tradition, even if it requires the curriculum to change the way it responds to stories and to assessing learning.
Reflection
Piquemal’s research into the history of Western society’s bias against First Nations oral tradition was a revelation for me. My struggles in class to incorporate traditional stories and storytellers has often been problematic. Building a lesson on a story that doesn’t fit my classic Western training and pedagogy has left me feeling uncertain and ineffective. I have not been given the tools to work with traditional oral stories through my practice or my culture. And yet, the stories appeal to me. I am often resentful when I am asked to pick apart a piece of literature that I love, to break it down into pieces that are so divided from the whole. I find nuances and layers of meaning after many rereads, allowing the characters and ideas to swirl around in my head and heart for many days after reading them. This holistic approach has not been valued in education, but it should be. Piquemal would argue that education needs to move from the head to incorporate the heart, and that there is where oral storytelling will find its place.
This inclusion will take deliberate examination of our colonial approach to education and a substantial shift in our pedagogy. Perhaps in the new BC curriculum, there will be an opportunity to bring in oral stories that do not need to be treated with the same scientific dissection that has been applied in the past. Further, perhaps we will find a means of assessment that will not dictate a meaning other than what students find for themselves in the material. It seems as if this is the only way we can truly decolonize our approach to First Nations learnings and oral tradition.
