Arts Education: Being Awake in the World
Peter O’Connor and Viv Aitken
From Facing the big questions in teaching: Purpose, power and learning
Melbourne, Cengage Learning, 2014
Introduction
Before children begin school, the Arts are a central means for exploring and coming
to know the world. Young children spontaneously dance, build imagined worlds, take
delight in colour, shape and texture, and play with sound and rhythm. Young
children’s play in the Arts is always improvisatory and intuitive, always integrative,
and always intrinsically motivated (Craft, 2000). Such play is also the precursor to
abstract thought as the young child learns to create and manipulate symbolic forms of
expression, and to read meaning into the work of others (Smith, 1998). This is not
something children have to be taught to do but is rather something which children feel
driven to do. The Arts permit children to make sense of their world whilst,
paradoxically, providing an escape from it. The centrality of the Arts in early
childhood learning is often severely disrupted by schooling’s focus on the testing of
literacy and numeracy. All too often the joy of discovery and the chaos of embodied
playfulness is replaced with intention, order, and linear progression (Robinson, 2012).
The big questions addressed by this chapter then are:
Why might the Arts be important?
What might good Arts teaching look like? and
What might the Arts teach?
What might the role and place of the Arts in New Zealand schools tell us
about our society?
Why might the Arts be important?
There is certainly plenty of evidence that the Arts ‘add value’ to our lives, in multiple
ways. In bald economic terms, the Arts are an important income earner in New
Zealand. In a 2009 study of the economic value of the Arts in the city of Wellington,
the direct value added to the Wellington city economy was estimated at between $284
million and $292 million. With indirect “upstream and down-stream flow-on effects”,
the total estimated value rises to between $495 and 583 million (Coulon, McGough,
& Harding, 2011, p. 2). However, we suggest the real importance of the Arts lies
beyond this kind of market language.
What we cherish about the Arts, what we love so unashamedly about poets and artists,
is their ability to capture in words, in image, or in sound, those things we feel and
know, yet find so difficult to express. The Arts are the space where we wonder about
the most difficult questions in life, and where we awaken consciousness about things
of importance. The Arts are important because they allow us to explore the big
questions of what it means to be human: questions of love, of loss, of pain, and of
exaltation. Wherever the Arts are experienced, including in schools, there is the
potential to move beyond the purely functional and instrumental aspects of life, to
move beyond those things that are merely counted, to engage with things that matter.
Not only do the Arts allow us to explore content that matters, they enable us to
explore it in ways that matter. It is perhaps stating the obvious, but each of the Arts
offers an opportunity to focus on a particular sensory experience. Music honours the
tactile and kinaesthetic, oral and aural modes; Visual Arts prioritises the visual; Dance
foregrounds bodily movement; and Drama (which incorporates all of the above) is
also often the most verbal of the Arts. With these differences in sensory modality, it
could be said that each of the Arts offers a particular kind of experience, offering
unique cognitive and emotional understandings to be reached, through the different
human senses. These sensory experiences will be appreciated in different ways,
depending on whether one joins in as participant or audience to the Artwork.
What might the Arts teach?
Children learn in, and through, the Arts in a number of ways. There are many studies
showing that a child who enjoys an Arts-rich education will learn better in other areas
of school (Cornett, 2011). A recent study of Arts-based integration showed
improvements in student’s engagement and understanding within all areas of the
curriculum, particularly social sciences and writing (Fraser, Aitken, Price, & Whyte,
2012). This is not to say, of course, that the only value of the Arts is in service of
learning within other areas. There is much within Arts learning that is valuable in its
own right. Indeed, too often, justifications for the Arts in schools are framed in
utilitarian terms or are co-opted into the discourse of skills acquisition, knowledge
accretion, and competencies for the twenty first century workplace.
Even considering the Arts in their own right is a difficult challenge for educators and
writers of curriculum documents when trying to capture the true potential of the Arts
within educational contexts. In the New Zealand Curriculum document (Ministry of
Education, 2007), the Arts is listed as one of eight ‘essential learning areas’, within
which the four distinct disciplines are identified: Dance, Drama, Music-Sound Arts,
and Visual Art. Whilst the presence of the Arts is to be celebrated, particularly the
specific inclusion of Dance and Drama (which joined the curriculum in 2000), the
way learning in the Arts is characterised within our curriculum is seen by some as
problematic (O’Connor, 2009). The Arts might be listed as ‘essential’, but any teacher
in New Zealand will tell you that in reality, some learning areas are more ‘essential’
than others. Although mandated within the New Zealand curriculum, too often the
Arts languish as frills, as encumbrances to the ordered school business of testing
national standards (Hong, 2001).
A number of theorists have attempted to identify the truly valuable learning that Arts
education can offer, the essence of its transformational potential. For her part, Maxine
Greene (1977) suggests:
Regardless of the different forms each discipline takes, Arts education
involves an emphasis on selecting, shaping, and interpreting, the ordering
of raw materials according to distinctive norms … the historian is in quest
of truth, in some degree verifiable; while the artist strives for coherence,
clarity, enlargement, intensity. (p. 201)
In similar vein, Elliot Eisner (2002) proposes a list of “ten lessons the Arts teach”,
within which he celebrates and advocates for the less tangible, more humanistic
qualities of Arts learning.
1. The Arts teach children to make good judgments about qualitative
relationships.
2. The Arts teach children that problems can have more than one solution.
3. The Arts celebrate multiple perspectives.
4. The Arts teach children that in complex forms of problem solving
purposes are seldom fixed, but change with circumstance and opportunity.
5. The Arts make vivid the fact that neither words in their literal form nor
numbers exhaust what we can know.
6. The Arts teach students that small differences can have large effects.
7. The Arts teach students to think through and within a material.
8. The Arts help children learn to say what cannot be said.
9. The Arts enable us to have experience we can have from no other
source.
10. The Arts’ position in the school curriculum symbolizes to the young
what adults believe is important. (pp. 72-92)
Both Greene (1977) and Eisner (1994, 2002) present a view of Arts education as a
place where children learn, not only to express themselves, but also how to think and
act on the world in particular kinds of ways. This way of thinking about the Arts
offers an important challenge to teachers to move beyond simple skill teaching, within
the Arts.
The following example, drawn from O’Connor (2013), illustrates the ways in which
the Arts can be used to help children make sense of big events.
Following the February 22nd earthquakes in Canterbury, the Arts were
used to help make sense of the new normal of life in Christchurch. Using
the story of a little girl who has had her dream cloth torn, Year 2 and 3
children worked as dream cloth makers, loaning the little girl their own
dreams, which they draw on to large sheets of calico. Then, making the
thread that is strong enough to fix the torn cloth, the children add the
ingredients for the thread into an imaginary cloud bowl. They add three
bales of belief, hugs from their parents, and finally a teaspoon of light
from the darkest tunnel. The children and the teacher watch the light go
through everything. Later, the children embody the dreams on the cloth
and help bring them to life through movement.
Aesthetics and beauty
The Arts and beauty are inextricably linked. Within Arts education, “when the term
aesthetics is found in the Arts curriculum it more often than not is used as a synonym
for artistic or for beauty” (Smith, 1998, cited in Grierson & Gibbs, 2008, p. 18). Smith
(1998) suggests that those who argue for aesthetics education are often advocating for
an education in taste. However, we advocate for the place of beauty in Arts education
in a somewhat different way. Schools are highly functional, ordered, and
institutionalised spaces. The Arts in all their forms disrupt this order, with colour,
pattern, noise, and vibrancy. And the beauty created by children in schools, whether
through dance or movement or images displayed on the walls, reminds children of the
possibility for beauty in their lives and worlds. For children, as for adults, the pursuit
of beauty through Arts making and appreciation has an important purpose. It reminds
us that life is not purely functional and utilitarian, but that finding pleasure in the
making and appreciating of beauty is an important and distinguishing feature of all
humanity. In this sense, the Arts in education act as an antidote to the widely held
image of schools being places where children are simply prepared for adult work.
Building democracy: Empathetic and critical citizenship
Many consider a key value of Arts education lies in the sustaining and building of
democratic citizenship. For John Dewey (1934), who wrote extensively on the
cultivation of the imagination through music and drama, education in the Arts is not
about training children simply in aesthetic appreciation or understanding, but requires
an active, Arts making approach. Dewey saw that this would lead to citizens who hold
a belief in the potential of the imagination. Arts education then is not about training
children to become artists; rather it is about realising the artists who reside within us
all. Dewey’s vision of the Arts was democratic too. He believed all humans are
capable of producing art, and therefore, Arts education was not about the development
of artistic skills but about providing rich experiences in the Arts so that children could
connect to more of the world that exists beyond the merely physical.
Paolo Freire shared Dewey’s conviction that education provides an opportunity to
remake one’s world, and Arts education has a key place within that. For Freire,
agency was to be achieved through a process of conscientisation, a process of
critically reading the world and then transforming or re-writing the world “by means
of conscious practical work” (Freire & Macedo, 1987, p. 35). Following in Freire’s
model, Peter McLaren (2000) argues that increasingly schools are reduced to
preparing students as part of the capitalist machine that dehumanises and
disempowers young people across the world. Like Freire, McLaren offers critical
pedagogy as an antidote to an education system that “replicates social inequity and
creates an unthinking consumer class” (2000, p. 123). For those who view the Arts as
a critical pedagogy, the desire is to replace the rehearsal room with an active engaged
curriculum enabling children to question, challenge, and remake their reality.
Though we have explored them under separated headings in this chapter, we suggest
that the critical, democratic aspects of Arts Education are inherently and inevitably
bound up with the aesthetic. Maxine Greene (1977) suggests a truly democratic
society requires people who are fully conscious, or fully awake in the world, and she
argues it is Arts making which brings the individual into awaken-ness; “aesthetic
experiences provide a ground for the questioning that launches sense making and the
understanding of what it is to exist in a world” (p. 120). Wide-awake citizens are
critically informed and they see their roles as actors on, and with, the world rather
than as spectators. Similarly, Nussbaum (2010) argues the moral imperatives sitting
beneath a democratic society are based on the creation of empathetic citizens. She
attests this role for education – perhaps one of its most and important roles – has been
systematically ignored, and severely repressed, by standard models of education. “The
Arts promote both inner self-cultivation and responsiveness to others. The two
typically develop in tandem, since one can hardly cherish in another what one has not
explored in oneself” (p. 104).
Power sharing
For many, it is the possibilities for power sharing and reciprocal teaching and learning
(Ako) that is one of the greatest values of Arts education. Teachers in the Arts may
discover possibilities for shifting the traditional paradigms of teacher-learner/expertapprentice, and can become engaged instead as co-participants and reciprocal
learners, alongside the students. Cecily O’Neill (1995) argues the finest Arts
educators move beyond co-construction, to co-artistry. By this she means both teacher
and student are engaged in genuine exploration and discovery together. The
reciprocity embedded within the work, or ako (which is a Māori word that translates
as simultaneously to learn and to teach), can be realised in Arts pedagogy, where
teachers and students move beyond the constraints of the roles of teacher and student,
and work as co-artists. This is when, according to Bishop and Glynn (1999, p. 8), a
“relationship can emerge in which both stories are heard or where a new story is
created by all the participants”.
Though reciprocal power sharing and agentic positioning can occur in any Arts
learning situation, we suggest it becomes particularly visible within forms of drama in
education, where teachers can consciously experiment with shifts in power and
positioning. Teachers using drama in the classroom will often take on low status roles
themselves and encourage students to explore roles as experts and high status figures.
As Brian Edmiston (2003) puts it,
One of the core reasons why as a teacher I use drama is because when we
create an imagined world, we can imagine that we frame events
differently so that our power and authority relationships are changed. A
long-term aim of mine as a teacher is as much as possible to share power
and authority with students. I want students to have more opportunities to
use words and deeds to act appropriately but in ways that are often not
sanctioned in classrooms. (p. 225)
For drama teachers like Edmiston (2003), the aim is not only to create spaces for
power sharing during the drama, but to set up patterns of power sharing that might be
carried over into the socially real classroom culture. Edmiston goes on to say,
Additionally I hope that students’ sense of their personal and shared
authority will become more secure and more extended while at the same
time more aware of others’ authority. I want a culture to develop that is
more egalitarian than most students expect walking into the room. (p. 225)
Once again, the discussion of what is really important in the Arts brings us back to a
meditation on its potential as critical pedagogy. The sharing of power is a political act,
which, we would argue, fosters and rehearses the empowered stances required for
engaged, democratic citizenship in the real world.
Setting up opportunities for experimentation and mistake making
Another key benefit of Arts education is the way creative exploration can allow
children to experiment and make mistakes, without serious consequences. O’Toole
(2006) argues that children in the Arts learn “through play … experimenting with
constructing order and meaning in consequence-free settings” (p. 2). All too often in
school environments, particularly those where the emphasis is on adult-defined
criteria for success and the teaching of predetermined outcomes, mistake-making is
portrayed as a negative thing, akin to failure. In contrast, a strong Arts education
programme can offer a place to celebrate false starts, changes of direction, surprise
outcomes, and ambiguity. Moments of messiness, incoherence, and even chaos are
not only acceptable in the Arts, they are a common, or even necessary, part of creative
endeavour (Fraser, Price, & Henderson, 2008, p. 21). Eisner (2002) reminds us that
the Arts ‘traffic in subtleties’. Where ambiguity and non-linear notions of learning are
celebrated, this encourages the child to re-envisage the world as a place that can be
actively worked on and engaged with in a respectful way, rather than a place to
passively receive knowledge. It encourages the learner to see the learning process as
one in which surprises and unpredictable outcomes are both possible and desirable.
The mistake-making and experimentation that takes place within Arts education is
both risky and safe. To succeed in the Arts, the learner must push physical limits and
explore new movement possibilities (in dance), take risks with sounds and images (in
music and visual Arts), or explore personas and perspectives beyond their previous
experience of real life (in drama). All forms of art offer the challenge of how to
explore and convey ideas, cultural stories, or human experiences, in new ways.
However, the nature of this risk taking is complex. There is no doubt Arts education
carries some tangible risks. For example, the student dancer must warm up and must
take care with carrying a partner’s weight; the learner in the visual Arts studio must
be aware of sharp blades in print-making; the teacher in role must be cautious not to
alarm or trick children. Such ‘real world’ perils are present, and should always be
taken account of by the teacher. However, in other very important ways, Arts making
allows risk taking to be completely safe. Within the students’ own creative journey in
the Arts, there is often a feeling of liberation from rules and consequences. The
creative experience is one of risk taking within safe bounds, and students will often
talk about being pushed to step outside their comfort zone when using the Arts. Such
risk taking has lasting implications on a learner’s sense of self-efficacy, confidence
and identity, particularly where they are encouraged to reflect on the consequences of
their choices and actions (Cornett, 2011).
Embodied experiential learning and affective-to-cognitive understanding
In the Arts, children move, talk, and manipulate media. They shape, reshape and
manipulate form and space using their bodies. They learn in, through and about their
bodies through their senses. Learning in the Arts almost inevitably involves embodied
and experiential learning. This form of learning is distinct from the learning
dominating New Zealand schools, a form of learning where the body is seen as simply
a clumsy container for the brain. Of course even in the Arts, learning experiences can
be disembodied; for example, where the teacher is overly focused on end results and
the cognitive or abstract part of the learning process. To fully learn in the Arts takes
the body, including the activity, movement and emotions associated with it, out of the
mind (Webb, Metha, & Jordan, 2007). However, in the Arts learning grows out of,
and is shaped by, sensory perception; the manipulation of the body and objects to
create aesthetic statements. The mind is in the body.
In the talk Educating the Heart and Mind, Robinson (2012) argues that education has
for too long separated the descriptive (knowledge – the outer world) from the personal
(the felt – the inner world). He states, “Feelings are forms of perception – part of the
mind. Education’s job is to connect our selves with ourselves. The other great task is
to connect us with each other”. Robinson advocates for Arts education as being the
prime way to bridge the inner and the outer worlds of the mind, to provide not simply
knowledge about the world, but rather, intensely felt and necessarily personal
‘explanations’ of it.
What does good Arts teaching look like?
In order to begin considering what kind of teaching supports learning in the Arts, it is
perhaps useful to gauge what teachers are currently doing. A recent study conducted
within a small number of primary generalist classrooms in New Zealand (Art of the
Matter, 2008, see Fraser et al., 2008), found the majority of teachers within the study
were focusing on the teaching of practical skills, and struggled to give the time and
scaffolding required to support creative process and idea development within the Arts.
The danger is that for teachers inexperienced in Arts education, constrained by the
curriculum, and further restricted by standards-based assessment at senior secondary
school, teaching in the Arts may be approached as if it were just like teaching and
learning in other curriculum areas.
So what might good Arts teaching look like? On one level, it can be argued effective
pedagogy in the Arts classroom will have the same features as effective pedagogy
everywhere else. Many would agree that John O’Toole’s (2006) description of
‘productive pedagogy’ would apply to any learning context, not only an Arts
classroom:
The classroom should involve student direction, where students
influence the specific activities or tasks they will do in a lesson, or how
they will undertake them. There should be social support, an atmosphere
of mutual respect and support between teacher and students, and among
students, to make them feel free to take risks and try hard challenges, and
that all students can succeed. There must be academic engagement where
they are attentive and on task, showing enthusiasm for their work by
raising questions, contributing to group activities and helping peers. There
should be evidence of self-regulation – where the direction of student
behaviour is implicit and self-regulatory – and there should be explicit
quality performance criteria: frequent, detailed and specific statements
about what the students are to do and to achieve. (p. 4)
Whilst this is a description of good teaching in any context, one could argue that in an
Arts context, it is even more necessary for the teacher to strive for these ideals as the
creative process itself depends on these factors being present. Without student
ownership of the ideas, safety, high levels of engagement, a clear sense of a search for
quality, and without a common striving for excellence, the quality of Arts making will
be poor. So, we would claim, true learning in the Arts depends on good quality
teaching.
Flexible purposing
Another suggestion about effective pedagogy in the Arts comes from John Dewey
(1934) who recognised that the Arts do not move in a linear fashion to fixed ends, but
instead emerge in a way that is often surprising and catches one off guard. In response
to this, Dewey advocated what he described as ‘flexible purposing’ in which the
teacher and the learner in Arts education seek to capitalise on the emergent features
appearing within the creative process, and within their teacher-learner relationship.
Flexible purposing is about refusing to be rigidly attached to predefined aims when
the possibilities of better ones emerge. The adopting of ‘flexible purposing’ in the
Arts classrooms allows the teacher to work in the ‘pursuit of surprise’ rather than the
pursuit of predetermined learning intentions, in order to create experiences that are
highly structured yet also leave openings for the freedom of genuine discovery. To
successfully teach in this way, teachers need to give considerable time to the Arts in
their classrooms to engender a sense that learning is open-ended and involves risktaking and exploration, in a culture of trust and safety.
A recent two-year study of Arts-based integration in New Zealand (Connecting
Curriculum Connecting Learning, see Fraser et al., 2012) concluded that an important
feature of Arts teaching, in any discipline, was for teachers to set up opportunities for
students to ‘grapple’ at the edge of their understanding. The study concluded that
good Arts teaching involves challenges and problem solving, and argued that teachers
need to understand how to walk a line where they provoke, problematise, and deepen
the learning, without making students feel success is too difficult, or letting them
become overwhelmed by the challenges.
What the Arts contribute to good teaching
At the same time as asking what good teaching in the Arts looks like, we can ask what
the Arts can contribute to good teaching. As O’Toole (2006) argues, for a teacher to
be effective (or in his word, productive) in any curriculum learning area, he or she
needs to embrace playfulness and artfulness. Arguably, any innovative pedagogical
approach will include use of visual material, sound, movement or role taking and
these are, of course, the province of the Arts. The Arts are naturally experiential and
sensory – the very aspects that are needed to enhance teaching and learning
experiences.
It is also important to note that the Arts are naturally integrative. By definition, any
Arts exploration must be an expression of, or an exploration of, ‘something that
matters’ from human experience of the world. Perhaps a cultural story, an exploration
of relationship, a moment from history, or a response to some kind of theme. As such,
the Art making always alludes to some other curriculum learning area, whether we
choose to call that social science, health, mathematics, or whatever. Drama in
particular is a naturally integrative tool. Whereas in visual art or dance, it may be
possible to simply explore colour for its own sake, or to take a movement phrase and
explore it for its internal meanings or structures, drama always engages with human
stories and experience. Drama depends on students taking roles, engaging with issues
that matter, and exploring multiple perspectives. The content of this exploration will
inevitably result in synergies with other curriculum learning areas.
What might the place of the Arts in education tell us about New Zealand society?
In the 1940s, the Minister of Education, Peter Fraser, and his Secretary of Education,
Clarence Beeby, understood the importance of the Arts and playfulness in education
as an important safeguard for democracy. They built a progressive education system,
the bedrock of New Zealand schooling for generations, on the pioneering work of
Dewey (1934). It has gradually been eroded over decades with the more recent neoliberal assaults, including national standards and the literacy and numeracy strategies.
If, as Nussbaum (2010) argues, any narrowing of curriculum or reduction of Arts in
schools is a direct threat to democracy, then we must be alarmed at the current global
education reform movement which is increasingly constraining the Arts, creativity,
and critical thinking in schools.
Elliot Eisner (1994) refers to the nil curriculum. By this he means that although we
choose what to have in our curriculum, the things we don’t have in our curriculum are
therefore not simply missing, but effectively excluded. Their exclusion is a political
act, which teaches children a great deal about the world they live in. The great drama
teacher Dorothy Heathcote once asked “Do children in New Zealand learn things that
matter? And when they do, do the children learn that they matter?” (O’Connor, 2009).
She might also have asked, ‘Do the teachers use the Arts so that the ways of learning
matter?’ It would be hard to know how to answer this question in the current climate
of regulation and standardisation.
The idea that the Arts exist as an essential learning area within our curriculum, yet
continue to be marginalised in schools, cannot be simply dismissed as an accident nor
an oversight. If we don’t use the Arts as a way of learning it is because we choose to
ignore them. Ironically, in a period where there is such a clear focus on literacy and
language skills, by neglecting the Arts we turn our backs on the most powerful of
language and literacy tools we have. The choice for the use of the Arts for learning is
not made at the individual teaching level of course. Nor is it a local problem.
Throughout the world, as people consider new ways to approach language and
numeracy teaching, the Arts as pedagogy gets insufficient attention within curriculum
documents, teacher training programmes, government-funded support systems and
strategies, and therefore is rarely seen within classrooms. As children are forced to put
away childish things upon entering school, one of the great tragedies is they put away
their childlike desire to play inside imagined worlds, to play through movement, in
image and sound. As they put away the playfulness of being other than themselves,
they put away part of what makes them human.
When we lose the Arts in education, or when they are relegated to the edge where
they have no meaningful role to play, we risk the possibility of a society being not
wide awake to what is happening to it. We risk creating young people without a sense
of agency, of not believing they can act on the world. Tagore (2009, p. 142, cited in
Nussbaum, 2010, p. 142) suggests without the Arts we end up with “nations of
technically trained people who do not know how to criticise authority, useful profit
makers with obtuse imaginations … a suicide of the soul”.
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