The School As A Community of Engaged Learners
The School As A Community of Engaged Learners
The School As A Community of Engaged Learners
of Engaged Learners
Penelope Eckert
Shelley Goldman
Etienne Wenger
While many teachers know better, the organization of our schools currently embodies the
belief that kids’ social ties and activities are incompatible with learning. But individuals
learn in the interests of participation in communities that matter to them. They learn in order
to know how to be productive in the community, and to gain access to valued forms of
community participation. Their reward is in seeing their contribution, knowing that others
recognize their contribution, and forging an ever changing sense of themselves. We take this
as given among adults, whose work is commonly integrated with their social lives. Scientists
mix social and scientific interaction, and forge their identities and connections around their
work, their knowledge and their contributions to the scientific community. Yet kids in
school are currently expected to function differently—to learn in isolation from the social
To benefit from the tremendous learning energy that comes with social membership,
schools need to provide the opportunity for students to form communities of practice
around subject matter. This does not mean that schools should build their curriculum
around rock ‘n roll or video games. It most decidedly does not mean that students need to
be cajolled or entertained into learning. These activities come into conflict with school
precisely because for many students, school offers no alternative—no opportunity to build
meaningful lives around school work—no opportunity to express themselves through
participation in school learning.
If kids are to have opportunities for full participation in school, the school must offer
communities of practice with the same drawing power as the students’ other
communities—the same potential for participation that is offered in families, neighborhoods,
communities, workplaces, clubs and so on. This drawing power depends, among other
things, on possibilities for meaningful participation, and on compatibility with participation
in communities of practice outside of school. If students are to take what they learn in
school into the rest of their lives, they must be able to bring what they learn elsewhere into
school. Thus the communities that students form in school cannot be isolated from the
many other communities in which they participate; the school is a viable community for
students only to the extent that it supports their participation in other communities as well.
A school must offer learning as a key to the world—as a key to an infinite number of ways
of being and participating in the world. It must build on diversity, and create diversity. We
do not want our students to come out of school with uniform knowledge; we want students
leaving school to be not only knowledgeable, but self-directed, creative, and adaptable. Nor
do students come into school with uniform knowledge; they come to school with different
Currently, the only legitimate opportunity for developing identities around learning in the
classroom is along a linear scale of "better" or "worse" student, based on the standardized
performance of standardized tasks. This guarantees that the major social dynamics
motivating learning will be competition among peers and the eagerness to please one's
elders. Kids, like their elders, seek participation in communities that afford complex forms
of membership and creative identities. In our traditional schools, the greatest opportunity
for creative social activity is in resistence or "subversive" behavior: disruption, cheating,
tardiness, apathy, violence, drugs, self-destruction.
IRL’s principles for school design are based on a vision of a school that provides
opportunities for multiple forms of participation—that nurtures communities of practice in
which students jointly develop their learning potential to its fullest. The vision is of a school
in which learning is fostered as shared enterprise, participation, engagement, contribution,
connection, experimentation, inquiry, reflection, identity. We list below some basic qualities
that such a school must have:
• Openness to the world. It is part of the school’s purpose to help students forge
connections between school, their home communities, and the global
community—and to develop strong identities as members of all of these
communities. To do this, the school must be open to the world at large, enabling
connections between participation in school and participation in surrounding
communities.
• Freedom to experiment. Active and engaged learning involves the risk of error.
Schools must encourage students to take risks, and provide support for interpreting
and building on error. It is the quality of the risk taken—the potential that the risk
offers for learning—that should be rewarded, rather than the glossiness or ease of
the success.
The principles of school design that we discuss here are based on a fundamentally different
view of how people learn than is currently embodied in general school practice. There are
many teachers, schools, districts and communities that embrace many or all of these
principles: there are exciting model schools, model programs, and grass roots innovations in
all aspects of practice. But the view of learning and schooling as an enterprise in
“knowledge delivery” continues to dominate our society, and straightjackets many
visionary practitioners. The educational system is commonly treated as a neutral repository
into which new methods can be unproblematically deposited; or as a tired system just
waiting for the right injection of innovative pedagogy or technology. In this short
document, we will not discuss pedagogy, facilities, materials or technology. Innovation in
each of these, in its time, has been considered a panacea for the problems of education. But
while each is important, none of them will bring about significant change alone, and their
value will depend on the extent to which they are developed in the service of the needs of a
learning community. It is for this reason that we set out below some principles of school
design that are essential for the construction of such communities.
Engaged learning occurs when people appropriate the learning process in the service of their
goals as individuals and as members of society. Engagement is not just the involvement of
the sole individual in learning; rather, learning is the vehicle for the individual’s engagement
with a community and with society at large. Schools must provide students with the means
to engage in learning for the sake of their membership in a variety of communities. In order
The purpose of schooling is not to sort students according to their apparent ability or
inability to learn, but to bring out and enhance their ability. All young people seek a
successful and rewarding life, and it is the school’s responsibility to guide them
successfully in that search. Kids’ belief in themselves begins with others’ belief in them,
and others’ commitment to them. Above all, then, the school must be a place where each
student is important, where each student succeeds, and where all activities are geared above
all to the benefit of students.
Engaged learners plan, implement, and assess their learning in relation to goals that have
meaning for them as well as for the community and the wider society. This has implications
for changes in all aspects of schooling, and can only come about through radical change.
Isolated reforms such as portfolio assessment have been introduced in order to encourage
students to take responsibility for their own progress. However, inserted into a system in
which the opportunity for such responsibility is otherwise severely limited, innovations that
might otherwise foster engagement can ultimately add to the weight of a system that fosters
passivity.
School articulates with the student’s other communities, rather than setting
up conflicts of identity.
Students come into school with knowledge and experience that is grounded in other
communities. The role of school is to help students expand that knowledge and
experience—to support this participation in multiple communities. A school that is open to
the world is first of all open to the local community—it goes out to students’ families and
neighborhoods, and it invites them in. It supports students’ connections with problems,
issues and knowledge of communities beyond their own, forging connections between their
own experience, that of others in their communities, and that of the communities that make
up their growing world.
If what students are to learn is HOW to learn certain kinds of things, then the teacher’s best
role is as guide, facilitator and model learner. A willingness to explore along with the
students makes the teacher a member of the community of learners who, by serving as a
model learner, provides the class with something like an apprenticeship in learning. This
creates an important link between the teacher's knowledge and the process of learning. And
once the teacher is freed of the role of exclusive “knower,” then students can also be
knowers, allowing them to construct and examine their knowledge. If students are
acknowledged as experts in some of the areas that the teacher is not, they will be afforded
meaningful roles in the learning community. A cooperative community, then, develops in
which any individual may bring in important information, and in which not knowing
something is seen above all as motivation for finding out.
Most educators know that the traditional view of learning as the accumulation of a standard
set of facts and formalisms is obsolete. Yet this view is so deeply embedded in the history
of educational practice that it stymies efforts at educational reform. The co-dependent
structures of curriculum and assessment have been engaged in a vicious spiral, perpetuating
educational practices that run directly counter to our current knowledge about learning. The
only way to break this spiral is to simultaneously break the mold on both curriculum and
assessment. But first it is crucial to recognize how thick this mold is.
Students soon forget the subject matter they learn in school; but they retain the activity
structures in which it was embedded. The activities that dominate school learning now are
passively listening to others, watching demonstrations, and trying to mimic what one has
seen and heard. And the measure of success in school is the ability to excel in standardized
tests that better measure one's fitness to win at Trivial Pursuit than to deal with the problems
and challenges that await the student after school.
We need to rethink the curriculum in terms of students’ ability to do things and to figure
out new problems. And we need to rethink assessment so that it fosters that ability.
Assessment practices, classroom practices, and notions about the nature of information that
tests provide are mutually reinforcing. Assessment practices must be meaningfully
integrated with the entire educational process, in order to foster the very highest standards
and the most productive learning practices.
Assessments are activities within a surrounding education system, yet few proposals for
assessment reform sufficiently consider the relation between assessment and this
surrounding system. Our design principles call for the integration of assessment with the
rest of the learning system in order to guarantee that assessment will, above all, support
engaged learning. Any particular form of assessment, furthermore, is part of a system of
assessment that must be considered as a whole. Students assess themselves, their teachers,
their school, and each other; parents assess their children, their teachers and the school; the
district assesses students, teachers, and schools, and so on. The activities that make up each
of these types of assessment must be suitable to their purpose, and must not detract from
the basic purpose of the school—indeed, they must enhance it. This means that we need to
If students are to be active constructors of their own knowledge, then self and mutual
assessment must be as normal a part of their classroom learning as it is of their everyday
learning. All other assessment in the school must be built on this bottom line
activity—which, where learning is concerned, is where the rubber meets the road. Students'
self assessment must be an integral part of any assessment that the teacher, the school, and
the community are engaged in. Indeed, if learning is to be organic and student driven, this
self assessment must be the pivotal point of the entire assessment system.
Education must be local—that is, it must be designed for and owned by local communities,
if it is to provide a meaningful learning experience for all students. At the same time,
learning must satisfy extra-local standards. Given the opportunity, individuals, including and
perhaps especially, students, set higher personal standards and goals than others are likely
to set for them. Schools need to capture kids’ ambition, and put them in contact with
personal goal setters in other communities, providing an organic connection between self-
assessment and the expectations of society. Thus state, national, and international standards
should be something that students and teachers have direct access to as they set goals and
Assessment is transparent
When the design, performance, and evaluation of assessment are separated across sites and
participants, the separation tends to make meanings of that assessment opaque: students are
asked to engage in activities that they can see only as "tasks;" teachers can be required to
administer tests that they play no role in constructing; and administrators and the wider
community can be expected to make comparative judgements on the basis of impoverished,
quantitative summaries of those tests. In each case, the intended meaning of activity has
been largely lost. Meanwhile, human capabilities for constructing, interpreting, and using
information about learning are overlooked and undersupported. For students, the alienation
Assessment relies upon the social practices for producing, selecting, interpreting, and using
information to support evaluations of learning. Innovation must be located within these
social practices, and in the relations between people with different interests who must
negotiate the content, process, and meaning of assessments*. Without understanding how
existing practices reflect diverse interests and then engaging those interests during the
design of alternatives, changes imposed in the interest of reform will more likely reinforce
existing problems. It is, then, within the wider and diverse social practices of the education
system that we are reframing the idea of assessment systems. And it is against this broader
context that notions of systemic validity, participation, and transparency must be seen.
Participation by students and teachers is needed to integrate the processes and subject
matter content of assessment into activities that have a legitimate place in different
communities within the school, allowing members to co-construct a sense of identity around
meaningful learning practices.
The current assessment system has many of the qualities of a game of intellectual hide and
seek. Assessors try to construct tests that will defy cheating, chance, and ambiguity. Test
takers gear their activity towards watching out for tricks and pitfalls. In all of this, it is not at
all clear what the relation is between the results of the test and the student’s learning, except
that it has no doubt reinforced the student’s view of learning as a contest. Assessments
should be assessments of activity that reflect learning—that reflect the student’s ability to
use rather than to parrot knowledge. The vehicles of assessment, then, must be authentic
activities that afford students the opportunity to display their power. They must also serve as
While it is commonly said that students come to school to learn how to learn, our
curriculum continues to focus on content rather than on the activity of learning. Even
scientific method is commonly reduced to a content item in science classrooms. It is time,
then, to develop a curriculum of activity. If the curriculum of content casts the teacher as
knower and transmitter and the student as receiver of knowledge, then a curriculum of
activity will cast the teacher as learner and the students as a community of learning
apprentices. This radically changes not only the social relations among people in the
classroom, but the understanding of what knowledge is, and what there is to be learned.
The traditional view of education as a system, in which all students are supposed to learn the
same things at the same time, deprives students of the opportunity to develop roles and
meaningful forms of membership in their learning community on the basis of knowledge
itself. Differences in knowledge among individuals within a community should be seen as
opportunities. Part of being a member of a community is knowing how one’s own
knowledge fits into the activities of the community, and how knowledge is distributed
among others within the community. The traditional emphasis on uniformity in current
schooling prevents students from coming to see their knowledge as part of community
knowledge, and as part of their own identity in the community. In a classroom that offers
complementary tasks and information, on the other hand, students can explore the relation
between their own knowledge and that of others, and to view each other as resources.
Knowledge, then, is not something to be hoarded or to compete with, but something to be
shared. This also means that not knowing a particular thing can be viewed as an opportunity
for learning rather than as a failure to know some item in a standard list.
The schools have traditionally extracted bits of knowledge for teaching in abstraction—then
the problem has been to teach students how to “apply” this knowledge in real situations.
This is perhaps the most obvious in the case of math education. If, however, knowledge is
gained in real situations, then the problem of “transfer” can take care of itself. A constant
back and forth between intellectual skills (such as, for instance, finding ratios and
proportions) and their instantiation in real life situations (such as dividing a recipe) is the
only way to guarantee that students will be able—and disposed—to use those skills in
future settings. And if these intellectual skills are learned within the context of real
problems, students will be better able to see problems that are, for example, mathematically
tractable in real situations in the future. Ultimately it is the real situation and the real
problem in that situation that will make the math learning meaningful to the student. Math
education should not teach students abstracted algorithms—it should transform students’
daily experience into a world full of mathematically tractable problems. An important aspect
of being this kind of a community of learners is that in focusing on recognizing a problem,
the students are also learning to develop a sense of their own knowledge as something that
they must construct.
The division of subject matter into cleanly separated areas—math, science (and within
science biology, chemistry, physics), language arts, art, music etc. abstracts subject matter
away from the real life phenomena of which it is part. This makes the material harder to
learn because it lacks cohesion for the student. At the same time, the abstraction of subject
matters from their existence in the world obscures some of the most important aspects of
the phenomena supposedly under study. The organization of learning around real problems
Curriculum is transparent
Students need to know where the curriculum is going and why. They need to know what
there is for them to learn and what they will be able to do with it. They need to be able to
look at older kids and have a sense of what those kids know, and see something of their
own future—have some sense of their own trajectories. Without this, kids cannot make
school subject matter learning part of their identities, or part of their aspirations. Part of this
transparency is to be gained by breaking down the barriers between knowers and learners.
We have discussed this in relation to teachers—it also applies to students at different levels.
Students in most schools currently find themselves in learning groups that are
homogeneous with respect to age, facility with certain subject matter and with English, and
even physical facility. This homogeneity prescribes progress in each subject matter, in such
a way that limits and discourages rather than enhances development and learning.
Too many classrooms also tend to be ethnically and economically homogeneous. This
limits some students’ access to school resources, and it limits all students’ access to each
other. The current mentality sees diversity as a problem that must be overcome. We see
diversity as a resource that must be treasured and built on. Diversity in this context must be
seen not only as ethnic and class diversity, but as diversity in learning trajectories. If
students are to take charge of their own learning, they must be able to develop personalized
learning trajectories. And if the curriculum is not standardized, then the groupings of
teachers and learners cannot be standardized. Above all, diversity must be a criterion for
grouping rather than something to be avoided.
Middle class families generally encourage their kids to stay with their strict age peers, and to
rely on their parents for information and resources. Many other kids’ support systems,
however, are based in age-heterogeneous peer groups, and their normal strategies for
learning are embedded in age-heterogeneous groups. When age separation is imposed on
these kids, it disturbs important social connections and interrupts important learning
relationships*. Schools, embodying white middle class practice, tend to see kids who
socialize with older or younger kids as deviant, and to attempt to interrupt those
relationships. Not only does this put the school at odds with their students’ lives outside of
school, it also has no positive value in itself.
For many kids, older friends and siblings are a valued source of learning, and younger
friends are a valued object of teaching, nurturing, and reflection on one's own progress.
Interrupting contact across age groups shatters this continuity, limits the kids' social roles,
and creates mystery around development. Kids have less opportunity to see where they’re
going—to see what older kids do in school, what they know, and how they learn. In short,
age segregation prevents transparency, and indeed age heterogeneity may well be the most
important justification for the current nostalgia for the one room schoolhouse.
Kids do not all mature in the same ways and in the same time. The age grouping of students
assumes a kind of lock step development, and hooks up that development with a lock step
curriculum. Students in any age group may be quite heterogeneous and may be held back or
pushed forward in different areas. There is, for instance, a very unambitious and strictly
graded math curriculum for students in elementary school. Left to their own devices, many
students would progress in math much faster than dictated by the curriculum. In the current
system, they are forced to choose between belonging with their age group, or setting
themselves aside from other students. Those who are unwilling to set themselves aside in
this way tend to hang back and get bored, perhaps even troublesome. Other students, on the
other hand, might be “ready” for certain kinds of math later than others, and are likely to be
In most current schools, students who progress more slowly in some area are cast as
failures; while those who progress more quickly distance themselves from their peers. All
kids, forced to see themselves in relation to a strict metric, cannot construct identities on the
basis of learning except identities of “better” or “worse,” "faster" or "slower." This means
that the identities that are facilitated on the basis of learning are strictly competitive, and do
not foster community or cooperation. And it means that the content of learning is
subordinated to some notion of quantity. The student who has advanced “faster” is the
student who “knows more”—not the student who “knows X.”
One major objection that has been raised to heterogeneous grouping is that it holds back the
faster learners. This notion of holding back, however, is based on a view of education as
accumulation rather than building depth. The student who progresses faster in a particular
area can help his or her classmates. And this helping allows that student a minute
examination of his or her own knowledge—an activity that is crucial to quality learning, and
an activity that is not provided in our current system. Where students in the current system
help other students, it is commonly in a context in which the two are seen as being ahead or
behind, making the relations between the two counterproductive to learning activity. On the
other hand, if the normal course of learning takes place in a community in which members
feel routinely responsible for the learning of their peers, then all learners will be continually
probing their own knowledge and their own learning.
Class size is one of the most frequently discussed and manipulated aspects of schooling.
Class size has no meaning in the abstract, however, since different activities call for different
sizes and kinds of groups. The key to productive grouping is flexibility, achieved through
the creative use of non-teacher personnel, peer teaching and collaborative work,
collaboration with resources outside of school (such as museums and workplaces), flexible
workspaces, and flexible schedules. In all of these cases, the locus of learning (e.g. in
Schools have been notoriously bad workplaces for teachers. Teachers have little control over
their time, activities, and environment. They usually work alone, and they have few human
and material resources. They have sparse opportunities for meaningful professional
development, and there are few rewards for good teaching. Professional advancement leads
away from the classroom—a bizarre practice that emphasizes the devaluation of teaching
activity and expertise that our teachers have labored under.
Schools have been relatively isolated institutions, for teachers as well as for students.
Teachers have little contact with their peers outside of the school, and even inside their own
school there is little time for collaborative professional engagement. The high performance
school, like any high performance workplace, needs to be organized for learning. It needs to
promote communication and collaboration among all parties to the educational process,
eliminating boundaries and hierarchies that inhibit the flow of information and resources.
Teachers are also in school to learn: everything that applies to students also
applies to teachers.
Like their students, teachers need opportunities to assess their progress and needs, and act
on those assessments. For this to happen to the greatest benefit of both the individual
teacher and the institution, the practice of teaching must be opened up in such a way as to
forge a continual dialogue between spontaneous self assessment, local standards, and
standards being developed at a distance from the school.
Teaching tends to take place behind closed doors, and teachers are commonly quite self-
conscious and sensitive about their teaching. Indeed, teachers tend to be primarily concerned
with others’ impressions of their classroom management which, after all, is easily
observable to the person passing by in the hall. This is an indication of the current isolation
of teachers, that gives them no realistic yardstick for evaluating their own practice. Without
opportunity to participate in each other’s activities, to observe each other at work, to
exchange ideas and develop collaborative practices, teachers have no means for evaluating
their own teaching or for benefitting from meaningful exchange with their colleagues. It is
essential that the practice of teaching become open—that teachers be given the greatest
opportunity to collaborate, to discuss practice and standards, and to articulate these
standards with other parties to their practice: students, parents, administrators, etc.
In order for teachers to control their own activity, they need to control resources for that
activity—people, space, materials, equipment, time. They need open access to information
and to people both inside the school and out. Dispensing these from above leads to
The school needs to work with its students’ other teachers in the community, and learn from
their students' lives outside of school, and from their families and community members. At
the same time, the school needs to provide opportunities for their students to branch out into
new parts of the community, and to foster their students’ direct access to resources well
beyond the school. The school should be a facilitator, not a gatekeeper, in the relations
between students and resources beyond the school.
If learning is lifelong, then schooling must be integrated into a larger view of development
than is currently embodied in the focus on grades K-12. The schools must be part of a
larger community responsibility for ensuring that appropriate opportunities are provided at
all stages of life, not just those who are of “school age.” Public schools cannot be all
things to all people, but they can forge connections to other resources and facilitate their
community’s use of these resources.
Communities have their own combinations of individuals with special abilities and interests,
museums, businesses, natural resources, etc. that will welcome a productive role with the
schools, can provide invaluable resources for the school, and may actually reduce the burden
on the school itself. If school is to be an experience that opens the world to its students, then
the school must take advantage of these resources, sending its students out to them as well
as bringing them in to the students. The school needs to maintain intimate knowledge of,
and active participation with, the community's resources. Careful articulation of curriculum
and in-school learning activity with resources outside of school will provide rich experience
for both students and adults.
Kids also need an opportunity to help and serve—to make a difference in their
communities. In current schools, community service is frequently embedded in
extracurricular activities, and watered down to fit the limitations of those activities: students
may gather canned food in a drive embedded in a school-internal competition. The contact
While schools recognize that parents have a tremendous stake in their kids’ education, they
commonly do not manage to forge productive relations with parents. In general, schools
think of parents—particularly low income parents—as people who need to be taught how to
work with the school. It is a fundamental aspect of our design that the teaching works in
both directions. Parents are a vast resource of knowledge and expertise about their
kids—about the expectations, hopes, talents, problems and needs that their kids bring to
school; and about what their kids bring away from school. And parents have their own
expectations, hopes, talents, problems and needs that are intertwined with those of their kids.
If the school is to attend to the learning needs of its students, it must be family focused. The
school needs to work closely with every student’s parents or caregivers, and siblings,
attending to needs well beyond those directly connected to school work.
Parents are not just individual participants in their kids'’s education, or individual
collaborators with the school, but members of communities, and members of communities
of parents, whose combined efforts can far outreach any individual interactions with the
school. It is the school’s responsibility to develop collaborative and open relations with
parents not just individually with their own kids, but in the context of their community
membership. Parents can organize themselves to jointly support learning outside of
school—to help each other develop strategies and resources, and to develop the school itself
as a resource.
Frequently some of the most crucial parents to the school’s activities are those who hesitate
to become involved in the school. This is frequently true of parents who themselves had bad
experiences in school, or of parents who are recent immigrants and are not used to the idea
of participating in their kids' education. It is the school’s responsibility to forge relations
with these parents—relations that allow the school to learn about and from those parents’
experiences and insights into school problems. When the school deals with parents
separately—particularly low income parents—those parents tend to be forced into a passive
School reform is not a matter of building schools from scratch, but of transforming long-
standing practices. School reform is, therefore, a process of learning. Thus the principles of
school reform outlined above apply to the very process of reform as well as to the end
product. Individuals learn best when they engage as a community and with other
communities, take charge of their own learning, build on what they know, engage in
continual self-assessment, and control their own resources. Meaningful reform can only be
accomplished by those whose practices are being transformed—the community of learners,
adults and students, who constitute the institution.