A note on quotations
Introduction
I have left quotations in their original gendered state, and without any additional comment: it is not always clear whether writers have used 'he' and 'she' as inclusive terms. Almost all emphases in quotations are as in the original. All unattributed quotations are from participants in the study.
Where material has been omitted, this has been shown in the usual way by three dots '.. .'. I have not attempted to transcribe conversations phonetically, but have used normal dictionary spellings. 'Urns' and 'ahs' have also been left out. Any additional material or change is contained within square brackets [ ].
In the few examples where an exchange is reported, workers are shown by [W], the researcher by [M]. Any quotations marked with [F] come from my fieldnotes written up immediately after the event. All other quotations from study participants are transcriptions of tape-recorded material.
I want to look at the work of educators who engage with local networks and cultures, and who build ways of working which connect with local understandings. Their main workplace is not the classroom. Shops, launderettes, streets, pubs, cafes, and people's front rooms are the settings for much of their work. Where they do appear in schools and colleges, it is in corridors, eating areas and student common rooms that they are most likely to be found.
Their work is not organized by subject, syllabus or lessons. Education, for them, is about conversation and community, and involved with the whole person. They are not interested in possessing knowledge as one might own objects. Rather, they look to the way people are with themselves and the world. Such education is, as a result, unpredictable, risky and, hopefully, emancipatory. As Lindeman put it in 1951, it is education
which is not formal, not conventional, not designed merely for the purpose of cultivating skills, but... something which relates [people] definitely to their community. It is an educational venture that is localized, has its roots in the local community. It has for one of its purposes the improvement of methods of social action ... There are methods which everyone can understand. No conspiracy. No manipulation about this. We are people who want change but we want it to be rational, understood.
(Lindeman 1987c: 129-30)
This way of working can be seen among the activities of some community workers, youth workers, community-based adult educators and community
the zigzagging, jumps and hesitations that are revealed in accounts of practice and informed by the 'situatedness' of reflection.
I finish with a chapter that looks at three key ideas: community, conversation and praxis. My focus on these reflects a concern for the 'ethical-political'. While looking to difference and the local, I also want to attend to that which we may share, and may be global. This has led me to a particular mix of writers - but my debt to pragmatism (whether it be in the shape of Dewey, Mead, Schon or Mills), and to hermeneutics (largely through Gadamer, Ricoeur and Geertz) is obvious. Other names also crop up like Freire, Gramsci and Habermas. The 'constellation' they form allows us to explore local education while attending to the 'mood' that is 'modernity/post-modernity' (Bernstein 1991: 8-12).
Local education and local educators
I have not set out to demonstrate that local educators think in this way or act in that. I do not claim that this form of work is well developed in large numbers of workers. There is no one person who is the educator described. Individually, those who talked with me differed in various ways, but some come very close in the essentials. Where I do make more general claims about local educators I have tried to provide a source - and this accounts for a higher level of referencing in the text than I would have liked.
My interest here has been to explore with a number of local educators particular aspects of their work. I have linked these conversations with a reading of what I saw to be key writers. I have looked for things shared and points of departure - and there has been a great deal of 'toing and froing' as a result. In the process I have identified some themes and tried to bring them into a creative relationship. This grouping of commitments, ideas and metaphors concerning practice I have called 'local education'. In what follows I generally use the term 'local educator' as a shorthand way of referring to community educators, community workers and youth workers; and 'local education' as a constellation of practices. This latter construction is not normative -I am not saying, for the most part, that this is the way things should be, nor that this is the way they are. My concern has not been to formulate some tidy definition of local education nor to amass quantitative data about its prevalence. Rather I have looked to the language of possibility - I am saying 'this is the way things could be'.
I hope people will discover that there is a set of practices worth exploring and researching here. My conversations with practitioners revealed a range and depth of work that is not seen clearly in books and journals. The quality of that work gives grounds for hope (while the political and economic context in which it takes place is extremely depressing). What follows is offered as a contribution to conversation of practice.
Chapter 1
Being local
There are those that say you go into the area, you work in the area. You don't attach yourself to it in any way. I don't think that is for me. It may be valuable in other settings. It may have advantages for particular styles of work or worker. It just don't happen to be mine. I want to belong in as strong a way as possible.
Being part of a local scene is essential to this worker. He sees the scope for education within the daily round and would, no doubt, sympathize with Pestalozzi when he argued nearly 200 years ago that 'within the living room of every household are united the basic elements of all true human education in its whole range' (quoted by Sadler 1974: 81). What is more, not only does the everyday and close-to-hand provide scope for education, but also coming to terms with the local, having a sense of place, is necessary, I want to argue, to building robust identities and relationships. The everyday, the taken-for-granted, has to be explored if people, and the communities they form, are to flourish. We may mostly take the 'ordinary' for granted, 'but it is also a range of experiences we can least afford to suffer because it is so closely tied to the sensed humanity we share with others' (Gunn 1992: 110).
Local educators take a further step. This, in the words of one, means 'reaching out to people on their own patch, territory, call it what you want; and initiating projects where they are at'. For the most part this entails working with or within local institutions, networks and practices: enhancing relationships and practices (Smith 1988: 129-30). Thus, local educators may work with tenants' groups or churches to develop and
2 Local education
educators - but they are not alone in this. Among those describing themselves as health promoters, probation officers, church and religious workers, teachers and social workers, there are also those who attempt to work in this way. However, it is with the work of the former that I want to stay for the most part.
Local education
When seen in a European and North American context, much of what we look at here could be viewed as an aspect of social work. The concern with social action has parallels in the tradition of community organization in the USA, Sozialpadagogik in Germany, animation in France and socio-cultural work in Belgium (Cannan et al. 1992: 73). It also calls on the thinking and practice of those who have worked for community-based and democratic schooling (Moller and Watson 1944; Seay et al. 1974; Allen and Martin 1992). We can also approach it in North America and the UK Through the idea of informal education (Brew 1946; Knowles 1950; Marsick and Wafkins 1990). If we were examining similar work in many southern countries, then our focus would most likely be non-formal education (Coombs 1968). It could be seen as close to the Latin American tradition of popular education (see Hamilton and Cunningham 1989), with its concern with voice, culture and power, or the French tradition of la vie associative, with its emphasis on association (Toynbee 1985).
I have used the term 'local education' here in the hope that we can look at this work in a fresh way. I want to explore a form of education which draws on ideas and ways of working well known to the ancient Greeks, and to twentieth-century readers of Dewey and Freire. It also attends to the everyday, to people's sense of themselves in time and place. As Yeaxlee, the popularizer of the notion of lifelong education, argued, we must attend to such elementary and informal forms of education.
Insignificant and troublesome to the expert, these have a charm for the common man: he can appreciate them just because they are not elaborate and advanced: they meet him where he is, and do not demand that he shall make a long journey, or make a violent and unnatural effort, to reach them. They are the only recruiting ground for higher educational adventures on anything beyond the present small scale. But also they are the only ground wherein a very large number of people will ever find themselves at home at all.
(Yeaxlee 1929: 155)
This is the realm of local educators and the focus for their labours. They may seek to 'meet people where they are', and to address the familiar and the taken for-granted, as well as work with others to come to terms with the strange or the new.
One advantage of approaching things in this way is that it allows us to move beyond the largely spurious case made for the distinctiveness of
Introduction 3
community work, adult education and youth work as educational methods and philosophies. I have not looked at questionable notions like andragogy at any length, as this job has been done elsewhere (Jarvis 1985; Brookfield 1986; Tennant 1988; Davenport 1993). As Kidd (1978: 17) has said, what we describe as adult learning is not a different kind or order from child learning: 'man must be seen as a whole in his lifelong development' (see also Houle 1972). When looking at the work of local educators it is what they hold in common that is most striking. Traditions of practice cut across sectors, and for this reason I have freely mixed accounts from separate arenas. Situations and experiences may differ, but the responses made connect directly with long-standing educational traditions.
Community, conversation and praxis
Running through all this is a vision of what makes for human flourishing, and of the social and political struggles involved. I argue that we need to foster those forms of life that nurture community, conversation and praxis. Solidarity and mutuality, engaging with others in a search for understanding, and acting in ways that embody these are, I believe, central to well-being (for an exploration of this ethical-political position, see Bernstein 1983; 1991). In the United Kingdom such virtues have been particularly under threat in recent years. I say 'particularly', because there is a sense in which working for human well-being is always an uphill task. However, in the 1980s and early 1990s we saw a growing gap between rich and poor, an attack on local and national democracy, philistinism in education, and an emphasis on self-serving and the short run. Unfortunately, the problem is not confined to the UK As Galbraith (1992) has shown, it will not be easy to break free of the stultifying 'culture of contentment' characteristic of better-off, and politically dominant, groups in northern capitalist countries.
So what is to be done? Part of the answer is that we must learn to , understand ourselves as social and connected beings, we need to 'celebrate the other' (Sampson 1993). In Mills's (1959: 226) memorable words, we have to discover that 'many personal problems cannot be solved merely as troubles, but must be understood in terms of public issues - and in terms of the problems of history making'. Similarly, we must learn that 'the human meaning of public issues must be revealed by relating them to personal troubles - and to the problems of the individual life'. Part of the task is to work for a political community in which democracy has some meaning. | Within local education there is a strong emphasis on promoting • associational life and democracy (Hirst 1993); on working with people to identify common interests, to co-operate and to organize. This is clearly seen in the activities of many community workers and their concern for community development, mutual aid and collective action?(Thomas 1983). Many adult educators, too, whether it be in the realm of trade union
4 Local education
education, the development of work in community groups or through their involvement in the women's movement, have been committed to furthering democracy and self-organisation (Thompson 1980; Lovett 1988). Voluntary youth organizations, with their stress on self-organized activity and involvement, have also played a part. There are, of course, countervailing forces - but possibilities remain (Smith, M. K. 1991). We have the chance to work, as Dewey (1966: 7) put it, so that people may 'share in a common life'.
The research
In what follows I will weave back and forth between the concerns of key writers such as Dewey, Geertz and Gadamer, and accounts of practice. As well as interrogating my own practice, I have worked with over 30 individuals (neighbourhood and detached youth workers, community educators and community workers) to explore theirs. Much of the research was carried out in East London and involved both state and voluntary sector workers. Along with these workers I talked with local educators from other areas. I have also used material from workshops involving a further 60 community educators, social workers, community workers and youth workers. The research took place between January 1990 and June 1993. I did not set out to prove or dispute particular theories. Instead, I began with an area of work. Through talking to practitioners and reading around the subject, I have tried to develop theory that is grounded (Strauss and Corbin 1990: 23). Just about all that follows has been used in some way with people involved in the study. They in turn have made further comments. In making sense of all this I have drawn on images, ideas and routines from a wide range of sources, but this has been informed by my particular orientation. The references so far to Dewey, Gadamer and Mills situate that quite well. Those wanting a discussion of the methodology can find it in Smith (1993).
Overview of contents
I have organized what follows around certain dimensions. These emerged in my conversations. Some were predictable - like engaging in conversation - but most I did not foresee. The processes identified do not work in a series - the local educators I talk with do not begin by being local and then move on to being educators. Rather, things tend to happen all at once. The work is often erratic and influenced by chance and situation. However, this does not mean that workers sit back, waiting for things to emerge. They are active agents. Their practice - or, better still, praxis -is underlined in the chapter titles. I have used verbs - being, structuring, thinking - to emphasize this.
In Chapter 1 I look at what it means to be a local educator. While much
Introduction 5
has been written about 'community education', little attention has been given to the importance of place and the impact this has on professional identity. I also try to show why local knowledge is an important focus for practice. In thinking about this the work of Cohen, Geertz and Giddens has been especially useful. Based on this discussion, I begin to argue that much can be gained by setting aside 'community education' and instead exploring the idea of 'local education'.
I then move on to look at local educators as educators in Chapter 2. The themes and emphases that are highlighted are familiar, and can be located in major educational traditions. These include the significance of choice and voice, the setting for the work, using experiences and situations, conversation and interaction, and educating as a fully human activity. Standing behind much that is said here is the figure of Dewey.
Conversation provides the focus for Chapter 3. More particularly, I look at the various strategies and tactics that local educators may use to initiate or join in conversations, to maintain them, and then to leave them. This is an area that is strangely absent from the professional literature, other than in rather abstract discussions of Freire, or exhortations to engage in dialogue. Here I have used the idea of conversation as it better catches the spirit and nature of the exchanges involved. To help me make sense of what the workers talked about I have turned to writers such as Goffman and Wardhaugh.
In Chapter 4 I explore how local educators can make decisions about the direction their work takes. For much of their time they are not operating within what might be called a 'curriculum mode', so that many common 'explanations' of the educational process do not fit. I try to capture some of the complex interactions in a model which brings in the worker's disposition and repertoire as well as various aspects of the situation. My work here parallels that of Louden (1991) and, more recently, Brown and Mclntyre (1993) in respect of classroom-based practice, and develops some earlier work I did with Tony Jeffs (Jeffs and Smith 1990a).
Having established something of the nature of local education, I then turn in Chapter 5 to how workers go about structuring their work. Several modes or ways of being are identified and discussed. The only other writer to approach this area in the UK in recent years is Barr (1991) with regard to community workers. I look at the implications of the requirements for flexibility in the work for the overall planning process.
The process of engaging with local life, of embedding practice, is explored in Chapter 6. A number of key themes are again identified: the role of groups; questions of power relationships; networks; and exploring cultures. These emphases will come as no surprise to those familiar with the area - but, again, there has been little systematic attempt in recent years to explore this area of practice.
In Chapter 7 I examine reflection-in- and -on-action. What do workers say about 'thinking on their feet', and how does this relate to key writers such as Dewey and Schon? I try to build a model that more closely resembles
extend their activities; they may look to enrich ??sting networks and relationships so that these become more rewarding. Sometimes they will have a hand in forming new groups with local people, but here again their interest is not usually in importing some prepackaged design but in building something out of local commitments, enthusiasms and expertise (Standing Conference on Community Development 1990). As one worker
put it:
One of the keys to community education [is] having a strong, vibrant community association which isn't run by professionals. It needs to come from the communities themselves. Those that live on estates, that attend classes, who have children at schools.
Some groups may become established fixtures on the local scene. Others may flourish for a short period as a 'spontaneous' response or passion (Kuenstler 1955) and then fade. This can mean that achievements are less visible, dozens of classes or new groups do not suddenly emerge. Those wanting to see local educators' handiwork have to look at the changes in the fabric and routines of daily life.
Most local educators try to work within fairly tight physical boundaries (Barr 1991: 48-61). They base their activities around a few streets, an estate (or two), a neighbourhood, a village or small town. In other words, they look to territorial communities as the site for their work. For the most part, when such workers talk of local work or 'community initiatives' they refer to 'areas smaller than wards, with populations of up to 5,000 or so' (Willmott 1989: 10). However, it would be a mistake to view such activities simply in terms of place. Many also use interest communities to help define what they do. These groupings share some special interest or characteristic, and it is in this sense that we talk of Irish, Muslim, Greek or gay communities. Workers may have a brief that is focused on such groupings - and this could mean operating across a large area. But territory and interest often tend to overlap, centres of population develop. Thus, for example, someone working with Somali community groups in East London could focus on just a few areas (see El-Solh 1991). However, some communities, such as that of deafness, are dispersed and this in itself can be a major problem. It means that opportunities for people to be together are restricted.
In this chapter I want to look at what having a sense of place can mean for local educators and those with whom they work. Locality and local relationships play a powerful part in our lives. The way we live has changed substantially, and with this has come a growing need to handle relationships across time and space and a developing role for educators. While my focus is on educators who work in specific areas, much of what I say relates also to those linked to interest communities. While people may not be in one place, educators still have to attend to networks and the ways of life they express. They also have to deal with issues of distance in time-space.
Being local 9
At one level, of course, there can be no practice without place: interactions have to happen somewhere. Being 'local' involves more than operating in some place; it is also to do with identity and how people approach their work as educators. In this way, when I talk of 'being' local it goes beyond physical location, to the relationship that place has with workers' sense of themselves and of the world. However, we first need to think about how, generally, people experience localness.
Localness
'Localness' is linked to proximity. The local shop is the one at the top of the road, the 'local' is the pub close to home or to work. A local, when applied to a person, is an inhabitant of the area. The most local of locals in this respect are neighbours - those living in the same street, block or building (Bulmer 1986: 18). 'Closeness' increases the likelihood of inter- -action or of being seen: there is more chance that people may 'bump' into one another and share common concerns like poor garbage collection.
There is a sense of community in [this] area because people are around more. They know their neighbours better. They may not get on with them. They know the people on the estate who will get things done . .. they talk about a sense of belonging; and perhaps a sense of other people's needs on the estate.
However, 'being around more' does not guarantee people will speak to each other or take an interest in their needs. As studies of neighbourliness have shown, how long people have lived in an area, their age and stage in the life cycle, their culture and class, and their kinship ties are all important factors (Bulmer 1986: 83-99).
Localness is a relational category: for something to be local, something else has to be distant. This process of differentiation allows us to feel that we belong somewhere - we are a part of this place rather than that. To make this judgement we reason or believe that we share certain things with others in the locality.
Each of the neighbourhoods are villages to themselves. They do not consider themselves as one area. They are individual communities. For example, in one the railway runs one side and on the other side there is the docks - so it is a bit of an island. People see themselves as separate, forgotten by the local authority. There is high unemployment, a lot of young single mums, poor housing, a limited bus service and only a few shops. Once they get to know you the people are quite friendly. It does take a long while unless they know someone that you know and that makes things a bit easier.
This sense of difference may be enhanced by the landscape, as with these dockland neighbourhoods. They are like islands. There are expanses of water between them and the 'mainland', and like some rural island
10 Local education
communities which have suffered economic decline, there is a tendency on the part of local people to put down local ways of life (Mewett 1982: 225). We also find the divisions between insiders, outsiders and newcomers that are part of village life - the 'real' or 'old' inhabitants and the 'new' (Strathern 1981: 72-100). In areas where the landscape does not mark off one place from another in the same definite way there will be more argument about boundaries. But people will still seek to make sense of their area's position in the landscape by looking for differences between others and themselves (Cosgrove 1989).
Localness is also about place. Place in this sense not only is an arena for everyday life but also gives meaning to that life. 'To be attached to a place is seen as a fundamental human need and, particularly as home, as the foundation of our selves and our identities' (Eyles 1989: 109). Our knowledge of the 'local bond of social life' (Konig 1968: 9) is sketchy, but many attach significance to where they live, or were brought up. At the same time places can provide not only a sense of well-being, 'but also one of entrapment and drudgery' (Eyles 1989: 109). We can feel confined and want to escape.
This is a close, small community with not a lot going on in it. It does feel to be a very unmotivated town although it is improving now. Growing up in it seems like struggling out of a bog sometimes. The money is to be made in the tourist industry. There is nothing exciting happening, they don't have opportunities, the cultural thing. There is no excitement of another culture here. So it is a very bigoted place.
Thus, to talk of place is to refer to understandings and feelings - it is not simply a matter of the area within lines drawn on a map. Physical areas or spaces provide settings for interactions; we draw upon them to live our lives (Gregory 1989a: 90). In so doing, we construct meanings, certain spaces.can be seen as places, and this is also helped by people thinking about them in relation to the wider landscape.
Locality also connects with culture: within areas distinctive ways of life evolve. Shared conditions can lead people into making sense of things in ways that are different from other places. It is in dealing with everyday events that people come to know their way of doing things. These will be carried with them when they migrate. We can see this, for example, in the contrasting ways in which Hindu temples have developed in London (Vertovec 1992). There are basic differences which have grown out of contrasting regional backgrounds, religious orientations and histories of migration and settlement. Such factors also affect the way people learn to use language. People have different ways of communicating, 'because their communities have different social legacies and ways of behaving in face-to-face interactions' (Heath 1983: 11).
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