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International Review of
Education
ISSN 0020-8566
Volume 56
Number 4
Int Rev Educ (2010)
56:411-433
DOI 10.1007/
s11159-010-9168-6
Lost in translation? Rethinking First
Nation education via LUCID insights
1 23
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Lost in translation? Rethinking First Nation education
via LUCID insights
Thomas William Nielsen
Published online: 26 August 2010
Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010
Abstract This paper reports on findings from the Learning for Understanding
through Culturally-Inclusive Imaginative Development project (LUCID). LUCID
has been a 5-year (2004–2009) research and implementation endeavour and a
partnership between Simon Fraser University (SFU) and three districts in British
Columbia, Canada. Via emotionally engaging pedagogies and a culturally-inclusive
curriculum, the project aimed at improving students’ educational experience, par-
ticularly First Nations learners. Using a combination of Actor Network Theory
(Latour, 2005, in: Reassembling the social: an introduction to Actor-Network
Theory, Oxford University Press, Oxford) and Hermeneutic Phenomenology (Van
Manen, 1990, in: Researching lived experience, The State University of New York,
New York), site visits and interview data were examined with reference to the
(f)actors influencing project objectives. Although each school district was unique,
shared themes included: the importance of creating a community with shared intent;
the role of executives as potential ‘‘change agents’’; the problematic nature of
emotionally-engaging teaching; and the complex influences of cultural and histor-
ical trauma. The latter theme is explored in particular, presenting the argument that
language deficiency and a consequent lack of autonomy might be at the root of
many problems experienced in First Nations communities.
Keywords Aboriginal education First Nation education Imaginative education
Language education
Some sections in this paper, with more discussions on a number of the themes raised here, can also be
accessed in: Nielsen (2009).
T. W. Nielsen (&)
Faculty of Education, University of Canberra, Kirinari Street, Bruce ACT 2601, Australia
e-mail: thomas.nielsen@canberra.edu.au
123
Int Rev Educ (2010) 56:411–433
DOI 10.1007/s11159-010-9168-6
Author's personal copy
Re
´
sume
´
Traduction infide
`
le ? Repenser l’e
´
ducation des Premie
`
res nations avec
les re
´
sultats du projet LUCID – Cet article pre
´
sente les re
´
sultats du projet Apprendre
pour comprendre via la projection inventive et interculturelle (Learning for
Understanding through Culturally-Inclusive Imaginative Development, LUCID).
LUCID e
´
tait une action de recherche et de re
´
alisation ainsi qu’un partenariat entre
l’universite
´
Simon Fraser (SFU) et trois districts de Colombie britannique (Canada)
pendant une pe
´
riode de cinq ans (2004–2009). Au moyen de pe
´
dagogies e
´
mo-
tionnelles et d’un curriculum interculturel, le projet visait a
`
ame
´
liorer l’expe
´
rience
e
´
ducative des e
´
tudiants, en particulier ceux issus des Premie
`
res nations. Associant la
the
´
orie de l’acteur-re
´
seau (Latour 2005)etlaphe
´
nome
´
nologie herme
´
neutique (Van
Manen 1990), nous avons analyse
´
les visites de sites et les donne
´
es d’interviews en
fonction des (f)acteurs d’influence sur les objectifs du projet. Me
ˆ
me si chaque
district scolaire est unique, plusieurs the
`
mes sont collectifs : l’importance de cre
´
er
une communaute
´
dote
´
e d’un dessein commun, le ro
ˆ
le des dirigeants en tant
qu’ « agents potentiels du changement » , la nature proble
´
matique de l’enseigne-
ment engageant l’e
´
motionnel, et les influences complexes des traumatismes cultu-
rels et historiques. Nous explorons particulie
`
rement ce dernier the
`
me, en pre
´
sentant
l’argument selon lequel les lacunes linguistiques entraı
ˆ
nant un manque d’autonomie
pourraient e
ˆ
tre la racine de nombreuses difficulte
´
s rencontre
´
es par les communaute
´
s
des Premie
`
res nations.
Zusammenfassung Lost in Translation? LUCID-Ergebnisse fu
¨
hren zum
Umdenken in der Bildung der First Nations – In diesem Bericht werden Ergebnisse
des Projekts Learning for Understanding through Culturally-Inclusive Imaginative
Development (LUCID) vorgestellt. LUCID war ein Forschungs- und Ums-
etzungsvorhaben von fu
¨
nfja
¨
hriger Dauer (2004–2009) und ein Partnerschaftsprojekt
zwischen der Simon Fraser University (SFU) und drei Regionaldistrikten in British
Columbia, Kanada. Mittels emotional ansprechender pa
¨
dagogischer Ansa
¨
tze und
einem auf kulturelle Inklusion abgestellten Lehrplan zielte das Projekt darauf ab, die
Bildungserfahrungen von Schu
¨
lerinnen und Schu
¨
lern, insbesondere von Angeho
¨
ri-
gen der First Nations, zu verbessern. Mithilfe einer Kombination aus der Actor-
Network-Theory (Latour 2005) und der Hermeneutischen Pha
¨
nomenologie (Van
Manen 1990) wurden Ortsbegehungen und Interview-Aufzeichnungen ausgewertet,
um festzustellen, durch welche Faktoren und Akteure Projektziele beeinflusst
werden. Trotz der Einzigartigkeit jedes Schulbezirks gab es Themen, die allen
gemeinsam waren, unter anderem die Notwendigkeit, eine Gemeinschaft mit
gemeinsamer Intention zu bilden, die Rolle von Fu
¨
hrungskra
¨
ften als mo
¨
glichen
,,Akteuren des Wandels’’, die Problematik eines emotional ansprechenden
Unterrichts und die komplexen Einflu
¨
sse kultureller und historischer Traumata.
Besonders das zuletzt genannte Thema wird ausgelotet. Dabei wird das Argument
vorgebracht, dass sprachliche Defizite und ein daraus erwachsender Mangel an
Autonomie ein tieferer Grund fu
¨
r viele Probleme sein ko
¨
nnten, mit denen sich die
Gemeinschaften der First Nations auseinandersetzen mu
¨
ssen.
412 T. W. Nielsen
123
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Resumen Lost in Translation? Una reflexio
´
n sobre la educacio
´
n de ciudadanos
nativos a trave
´
s de los conocimientos proporcionados por LUCID – Este trabajo
informa sobre hallazgos hechos con el Proyecto LUCID (Learning for Under-
standing through Culturally-Inclusive Imaginative Development). LUCID ha sido
una tarea de investigacio
´
n e implementacio
´
n de cinco an
˜
os (2004–2009) y una
cooperacio
´
n entre la Simon Fraser University (SFU) y tres distritos en British
Columbia, Canada
´
. Mediante pedagogı
´
as comprometidas emocionalmente y un
currı
´
culo de inclusio
´
n cultural, el proyecto apuntaba a mejorar la experiencia ed-
ucativa de los estudiantes y, en particular, de los estudiantes de naciones nativas.
Aplicando una combinacio
´
n de la Teorı
´
a del Actor-Red (Latour 2005) y de Fen-
omenologı
´
a Hermene
´
utica (Van Manen 1990), se examinaron las visitas de campo y
los datos de entrevistas con referencia a los factores y actores que influenciaban los
objetivos del proyecto. Si bien cada distrito escolar era u
´
nico en su clase, habı
´
a
temas comunes a todos, que incluı
´
an: la importancia de crear una comunidad con
objetivos compartidos; el papel de ejecutivos como potenciales ‘‘agentes del cam-
bio’’; la naturaleza problema
´
tica de una ensen
˜
anza comprometida emocionalmente
y las complejas influencias de traumas culturales e histo
´
ricos. Este u
´
ltimo tema ha
recibido una atencio
´
n especial, que ha derivado en la tesis de que las deficiencias en
el lenguaje y la consiguiente falta de autonomı
´
a pueden constituir la raı
´
z de muchos
de los problemas que se viven en comunidades nativas.
Lost in translation? 413
123
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First Nation education
Like the rest of Native North America, Canada’s First Nations have not meshed well
with the Western public education system and its emphasis on literacy and
theoretical knowledge. In both Canada and the USA this mismatch is reflected in
lower than average literacy and high school completion rates and lower scores for
high-stake academic subjects (National Aboriginal Health Organization 2007;
National Indian Education Study 2006). First Nations children in these countries are
also at higher risk for health and behavioural problems. A shortfall in schools
teaching in Native languages, in curricula inclusive of Native content and in First
Nations educators and the general lack of Aboriginal political control over
educational institutions account to some degree for these problems (Fettes 2005;
Demmert 2001; Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples 1996). However, while
there is agreement that a reversal of the status quo requires a form of education that
caters better for First Nations learners, exactly what form this education might take
is still unclear.
The LUCID project
When Dr Mark Fettes won a 5-year grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities
Research Council of Canada (SSHRC) to use imaginative education in conjunction
with a culturally inclusive First Nations curriculum, the ‘‘Learning for Understand-
ing through Culturally-inclusive Imaginative Development’’ (LUCID) project was
initiated. The project was a combination of two ingredients that have been argued
(Demmert 2001) to be lacking in the Canadian public education system: a
curriculum firmly grounded in Indigenous culture and tradition, and a pedagogical
approach of engaging all students.
Imaginative education (e.g. Egan 2005; Nielsen 2004; Eisner 1998) can be
broadly defined as the attempt to engage students emotionally in the learning
content via images and connections with human feelings. When we hear a story, for
example, it is different from being told the facts contained within the story; a story
helps us realise how we feel about the content, and thus makes us relate the content
to our fears, dreams and aspirations—our uniquely human qualities (Egan 1997,
2005). As such, imaginative education can be said to be part of a growing interest in
creative and emotionally engaging education (e.g. Glazer 1999; Goleman 1998; Orr
1999; Palmer 1999; Gatto 1997; Miller 1997). In the last 20 years brain research has
shown that the engagement of affective domains increases attention, retention and
enjoyment in the act of learning and also that it is closely related to images and the
imagination (e.g. Damasio 2003; LeDoux 1996). When we imagine, this activates
not only the parts of the brain linked to emotions but also the part of the brain where
logical processes mainly take place (the cortex). In other words, if we engage
students’ imagination, we will engage their affective domains while the learning
content is being processed, resulting in a more enjoyable and memorable learning
path.
414 T. W. Nielsen
123
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There are many theoretical models of teaching imaginatively (e.g. Egan 2005—
see www.ierg.net for examples); Nielsen 2004; Eisner 1998), but what all approa-
ches share is an effort to engage students emotionally in the learning content.
Teachers in the LUCID project were not required to use a particular framework of
imaginative education, but instead received professional development on various
models subscribing to the above broad definition. As indicated, they also received
training in culturally inclusive ways of incorporating First Nations history and
culture into the curriculum. This training was aided by First Nations educators, as
these participants in the project held local knowledge of etiquettes and protocols
with regards to teaching First Nations content.
Project design
Driven by a philosophy of community collaboration, LUCID has been a relatively
long-term research and implementation project (2004–2009) based on an alliance
between Simon Fraser University’s (SFU) Faculty of Education and three
communities in British Columbia (BC): the Sto
´
:lo
˜
, Haida and Ts’msyen First
Nations communities within, respectively, the Chilliwack, Queen Charlotte Islands
and Prince Rupert school districts. The project design was closely aligned with the
Community-University Research Alliances programme (CURA), a branch of
SSHRC, which, as mentioned, funded the project. CURA encourages universities to
involve community organisations in the planning, implementation and evaluation of
research projects as a way of supporting community knowledge and practices.
Another collaborative feature of LUCID was that it offered teachers academic
assessment of, and accreditation for, their participation in the project. Depending on
when they enrolled in the project, teachers could opt to be part of the SFU Masters
of Imaginative Education programme—which was an opportunity to do graduate
work for teachers living in non-metropolitan areas. During the 4 years of the
project, teachers received professional development in imaginative and inclusive
teaching strategies equivalent to a full-time Masters programme. A generous budget
for travel and collaboration within and between school districts also helped create a
comprehensive network of participants—university staff and students, teachers,
school district leaders, First Nation councils, parents and First Nations and non-First
Nations students.
Method
Mixed methodologies
Given that LUCID had collected no real base-line data other than the broader
literature on First Nations education, I needed a sympathetic means of evaluating its
successes, difficulties and of assessing what context each party was bringing to the
project. I chose a combination of qualitative research methodologies in which I
already had some experience: Actor Network Theory (ANT) and hermeneutic
Lost in translation? 415
123
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phenomenology. Latour (2005) describes ANT as inviting the researcher to examine
the functions of subjects, the beliefs and interests that steer their actions and the
rationale behind these actions. The ANT lens also focuses on socio-technical
networks to highlight that no-one acts alone and that not all significant (f)actors are
human (Goguen 2000, p. 2).
Hermeneutic phenomenology (Van Manen 1990) also seemed suitable because
my wish was not only to draw ‘‘conclusions’’ about LUCID; I also wanted to
describe some of its inherent complexity. This would be useful to outsiders to the
project who, without having been through the experience themselves, are unlikely to
be satisfied with ready-made conceptualisations. Similarly to ANT, hermeneutic
phenomenology uses language that attempts to evoke the actors and their networks
to readers. Latour (2005) argues that if a description needs an explanation it is not a
very good description. Contrary to this view, however, I have made the assumption
that description and explanation are not mutually exclusive and that sometimes a
combination of both might serve the reader best (Davies 1998; Polkinghorne 1995;
Zeller 1995; Van Manen 1990).
Data collection
Eight separate site visits to all three BC districts involved in the project were
conducted over 6 weeks, spread out over the latter half of 2006 (follow-up
interviews were also conducted in 2007). Recognising the usefulness of triangu-
lation, I chose three categories of data collection: interviewing, observation and
documentation (Atkinson et al. 2001; Hart 2000; Woods 1999). I thus collected data
through (1) semi-structured interviews with, and focus groups of, education
professionals and members of the wider school community; (2) observations of
interactions between project leaders, teachers and students; and (3) analysis of
school policies and documents.
Interviews were semi-structured so that the dialogue could be steered in the
direction of the overall research aims and to allow for unexpected findings and
insights (see Appendix A). Most interviews were digitally recorded and later
transcribed. I also took notes during or after observations of interactions between
teachers, principals, project leaders and students about (a) teacher practices
involving First Nations content inclusion and (b) the use of emotionally engaging
pedagogies, as broadly defined earlier. Documentation consisted of learning
outcomes, school policies and teachers’ lesson plans and writings. The main
purpose of collecting these documents was for corroboration or contrasting with
data obtained from interviewing and observing.
Data analysis
Data analysis involved (1) thematic analysis of interview and focus group data, (2)
triangulation of data from different sources and (3) perception and member checks.
Collecting the data at each site, using the mixed qualitative research methods lens, I
conducted an initial analysis of each site. After verifying the findings from all three
districts with members from each district, I identified any overarching and
416 T. W. Nielsen
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significant themes that were supported by the data and any tentative conclusions
relating to each site. I developed the themes using the constant comparative method
(Atkinson et al. 2001; Neuman 1997; Frankfort-Nachmias and Nachmias 1992;
Strauss 1987), which involves continuous interplay between the researcher, the
broader literature and the emerging data so that the researcher can recognise themes
embedded in the data. I used three stages of coding—open, axial and selective
(Strauss 1987)—to recognise and define those themes.
The following two sections contain the findings of my research. The first section
will present relatively raw data on the LUCID (f)actors and their networks, with
minimal interpretation. The next section will summarise data from the first section
that validate a particular theme, and I will present additional and related data with
which to discuss and interpret a particular theme that I suspect is of utmost
importance to the other themes. In these two sections pseudonyms protect the
identity of participants.
The LUCID (f)actors
Schools and school districts
Four schools in the Haida Gwaii/Queen Charlotte School District 50 were involved
in LUCID. The district covers the eponymous islands off the northern coast of
British Columbia. The Haida Nation constitutes about 40% of the islands’ 5500
inhabitants, with Haida children making up 61% of school enrollments—a
percentage that is likely to increase because of economic difficulties (Fettes 2005,
p. 8). But despite this high percentage, the school district does not have a long
tradition of collaboration with the Haida Nation, and an official educational/
accountability contract did not exist until 2003 (Fettes 2005, p. 9).
Five schools in the Prince Rupert School District 52 (pop. 14,000) were involved
in LUCID. This region on the northern coast has long been a point of convergence
for the fishing and forest industries but is now in economic decline. More than half
of the nearly 2000 students in the region are First Nation, belonging largely to the
Ts’msyen Nation. Others are from the neighbouring Nisga’a, Gitksan, Haida and
Haisla Nations. In 10 years of operation, the district’s office of First Nation
Educational Services has gained a positive reputation for its initiatives, including
local language focus, catch-up programmes for students lagging behind by two
grade levels or more and a culturally inclusive curriculum (Fettes 2005, pp. 9–10).
Chilliwack School District 33 (pop. 86,000), in the Upper Fraser Valley, is one of
the fastest growing areas in British Columbia. About 12% of its 11,500 students are
First Nation (Fettes 2005, p. 7), the majority of whom are from seven ‘bands’:
Tzeachten, Squiala, Aitchelitz, Yakweakwioose, Skwah, Skway and Cheam. Until a
recent political spilt, these bands were among the 24 members of the Sto
´
:lo
˜
Nation
(Fettes 2005, p. 7). In 1998 the Chilliwack district entered into a formal education
agreement with the Sto
´
:lo
˜
Nation to ensure the academic success of its learners.
Among several current initiatives, a district-wide focus on literacy involving
families has improved retention rates and academic achievement, but drop-out rates
Lost in translation? 417
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(especially for boys) are still of concern, as are overrepresentation in modified
programmes and a persistent gap in grade scores (Fettes 2005, p. 7). Two schools in
the district were involved in the LUCID project.
The three school districts—Haida Gwaii/Queen Charlotte, Prince Rupert and
Chilliwack—were originally all chosen by the SFU team because they (a) had a high
proportion of First Nation students, (b) had already developed education agreements
and other collaborative decision-making arrangements with First Nations and
(c) had previous experience in working with the Faculty of Education at SFU (Fettes
2005, p. 8). All three school districts and schools are unique, but together they create
a political and institutional spectrum conducive to investigation. Lacking only a big
city setting, LUCID takes a broad snapshot of urban settlement in British
Columbia—from the small towns on Haida Gwaii, to the regional centre of Prince
Rupert, to the city of Chilliwack, with a population over 80,000. Focusing on grades
4–7 and selecting schools with varying policies and levels of accommodating First
Nation children (Haida Gwaii has the lowest, Prince Rupert the highest and
Chilliwack is somewhere in the middle), LUCID had the pedagogic and
demographic range to provide broad insights into Aboriginal education in Canada,
and possibly, elsewhere.
Teachers
There were approximately 20 teachers involved in LUCID, with a turnover of
approximately 30% during the time of my research (latter half of 2006). Three
teachers were First Nation. I interviewed 14 teachers, of whom two were First
Nation.
The background, personal beliefs and interests of these teachers were diverse, but
there was a common desire to better accommodate all students. While reporting
imaginative education to be ‘‘extremely challenging’’, many of the teachers also saw
it as a major attraction. One teacher said: ‘‘LUCID gives theoretical validation and
authority to a creative approach to education—something I have always had a desire
for but also felt insecure about since it is not the norm’’. Another said:
LUCID has been really beneficial… previously I’d say that my teaching was
imaginative, but it wasn’t as focused or with the same depth of knowledge that I
have developed now… I think I also have become a more artistic and creative
person in general, willing to look at boundaries and question them and how to
extend them, thinking of possibilities and trying to think outside the box.
In regard to the culturally inclusive aspect of the project, many of the non-First
Nation teachers had previously felt that teaching First Nations material was
inappropriate. One non-First Nation teacher said:
Before LUCID I felt it wasn’t even my place to teach First Nations content,
as I am not Aboriginal… Because [project leaders] have been so
encouraging toward non-Aboriginal teachers teaching First Nations content,
I have felt almost a liberation in my teaching… as if I have suddenly been
set free to engage with First Nations culture and content for the first time.
418 T. W. Nielsen
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Indeed, practically all of the teachers in the project spoke of feeling empowered by
the encouragement and legitimisation of LUCID to (a) teach more creatively and
(b) use First Nations content. The teachers also appreciated being part of an
imaginative and inclusive teaching community that validated ‘‘a more systematic
approach’’ in which ‘‘cultural inclusion and creativity are not regarded as merely
‘add-ons’ but integral to teaching and learning’’. As one teacher summed it up:
Building collaboration and a community of teachers has been the strongest and
most important part of LUCID. Being able to see and hear what other teachers
are doing has been really invigorating. Now we meet regularly to discuss and
help each other with our classroom projects.
Principals
Eleven principals, of whom one is First Nation, were involved in the LUCID project
at the time of research. Four principals were interviewed.
In general, the principals were sympathetic to the project’s intentions. One
principal expressed the majority belief ‘‘…that First Nation inclusion relies on the
children having a stake in their education, and that it needs to be tied in with their
culture’’. Also expressing a sentiment shared by most, Robert, a principal who had
worked in First Nations communities for many years, said:
For too long education has been Euro-centered, but it has started to change
over the last 10 years. Success comes from having an emphasis on language
and culture, by bringing elders into the school community, telling imaginative
stories with color and excitement. First Nation learners are very tactile-
kinesthetic learners – they need a ‘‘see-do’’ approach. In the schools I have
been at, we have worked on making the four walls disappear, investigating the
curriculum via outdoor activities – such as fishing, exploring the properties of
distance, biology, rate and ratio, and so on.
A big problem reported by principals was that some teachers were disconnected
from their students, lacking knowledge about and empathy for them. Again,
Robert’s comments summed up a shared view:
Some teachers really have racial views, and unless they really change in some
dramatic way, their teaching will always be coloured by these views. To me,
striving to become a part of the community is key. We may all have some
racially motivated factors within us, but if one lives with the community it
automatically fosters understanding for the people living in that community.
And understanding fosters empathy. I was once invited into a First Nation
community and lived there for a longer period of time, which helped create the
empathy that I have now.
However, where some educators did demonstrate goodwill, Robert reported,
religion and politics emerged as a problem within the First Nations communities
themselves:
Lost in translation? 419
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Even though I have empathy and have always tried the best I could to be
inclusive to all parts of the community, it is very hard to reconcile the political
tensions without making someone feel that you are taking sides… I have had
my hand kissed by parents, and I have had rocks thrown at me, splitting open
my head…. We don’t all think the same. This was a big realisation for me
when I learned that.
Only around 5% of all LUCID participants interviewed did not clearly express
belief in the objectives of the project. One reason was that they thought a focus on
First Nation content might do a disservice to the student population as a whole. ‘‘I
have a fear that a focus on First Nation education may marginalise Aboriginal
students even further… I am scared of ghettorisation’’, said one teacher. Most
others, however, felt strongly about the need to help FN learners via a more
inclusive curriculum, since, as one principal put it, ‘‘Aboriginal communities have
been marginalised for so long that it needs a particular effort in schools to rectify the
damage done in the past’’.
Although the number of interviewed participants expressing lower commitment
was relatively insignificant, it is still worth noting that the level of commitment
shown by principals significantly affected the general attitude of the school
community. Where the principal was highly sympathetic, staff seemed to embrace
the project with only minor reservations. In schools where the principal had
reservations about the focus on First Nations content, teachers came across as
slightly more isolated in their endeavor to carry out project intentions.
Other problems principals reported on were the result of a general lack of
resources in schools and the tension between wanting to have more imaginative
teaching and districts’ push for accountability, which puts pressure on teachers to
focus on ends rather than means.
Project leaders
Apart from the LUCID director, Dr Mark Fettes, the project leadership comprised
two other SFU staff and four school district leaders. All current project leaders were
interviewed.
All project leaders spoke positively of the collaboration between the school
districts and SFU. The school district leaders said ‘‘LUCID has given academic
credibility to First Nations inclusion by having the university community involved’’.
SFU staff said, ‘‘Working with the school districts is paramount to creating change
in the community’’.
Because of the central position school district leaders hold, they exerted a strong
influence on the wider school community. Where they were regarded highly,
working relationships were harmonious. But in a district where some of the teachers
were unsatisfied with some aspects of the school district leadership, and in some
cases even feared judgment from their leader(s), working relationships seemed
strained at times.
Much of the strain seemed to stem from personality clashes and the issue of
protocol. Some teachers thought the school district leader(s) adhered to protocol too
420 T. W. Nielsen
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rigidly, and some district leaders felt some teachers had ‘‘a lot to learn about
protocol’’ and needed ‘‘correction and explicit guidance at times’’. Pam, a First
Nation school district leader, offered some insight into the difficulty of her position:
It is easy to get teachers interested, but to keep up that dialogue is difficult. It
is in the nature of the topic [imaginative and inclusive education] to be
difficult. And to plug something complex into dysfunction is even more
difficult. System theory is very important. In [British Columbia] there needs to
be something set up to deal with dysfunction… I did not realise all the
obstacles. A lot of people don’t like you. It is not easy to be ‘‘the other’’.
Other problems reported by some school district leaders were lack of time and
school resources. One school district leader said:
These are small school districts, in which we have to do everything – time is
crucial. Full-time hiring of project leaders would be really great, otherwise
other things will pull you away. It is easier to let LUCID objectives go if a
child acts up.
Despite the challenges, all project leaders agreed that the partnership between SFU,
First Nations communities and BC school districts would in the end help students’
learning. The SFU leaders found the school district leaders’ expertise as ‘‘cultural
brokers’’ to be invaluable, and the school district leaders felt that the SFU team had
given teachers the language and framework to plan and deliver more engaging and
inclusive learning. One drawback was ‘‘that it is a challenge working collabora-
tively across long distances’’.
Students
As mentioned, the project involved non-Aboriginal and First Nation children from
several bands and First Nations. Furthermore, within the three districts there was a
broad spectrum of ability, with one district reportedly having higher functioning
students on average than the other two. The range in ability resulted in data showing
that the effect of imaginative teaching can vary according to student ability.
For example, higher functioning students were reported as ‘‘…initially having
difficulty adjusting to imaginative teaching,’’ whereas average functioning students
were reported to ‘‘…really run with the idea’’. Lower functioning and normally less
engaged students were reported by some teachers to have real difficulties with
imaginative modes of learning and by others to excel. Adding to the complexity of
this data, lower functioning kids who felt at ease with imaginative teaching were
from the district that had on average higher functioning students. Girls were also
reported by a few teachers to want ‘‘regular’’ teaching, whereas boys ‘‘…often
wanted to continue when the formal lesson stopped’’.
Assessing the relationship between imaginative education and academic
outcomes is complicated by the fact that teachers differed considerably in their
interpretation of, and approach to, imaginative teaching. On top of that, it is difficult
to know how much of any change to attribute to the cultural inclusion or the
imaginative teaching elements of LUCID. The matter of controlling the many other
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variables of teaching in general also complicates the task of breaking down findings
of correlation and causality in this project.
Another complexity is in the nature of imaginative education itself. Many of the
LUCID participants recognised that creative and emotionally engaging education
engages dimensions that students (and teachers) are not used to. It is also a relatively
new phenomenon in educational theory and practice and, as one school district
leader put it, generally ‘‘…teacher training does not prepare adequately for being
imaginative in the classroom’’.
It is worth recalling the words of the First Nation school district leader cited
previously, who said that it is in the nature of imaginative (and inclusive) education
to be difficult and that to ‘plug’ something complex into a challenging setting is
even more difficult. Couple this with the fact that traditional First Nation education
was much more experiential—one in which ‘‘…children learned by actively
participating in the life of the community’’ (Campell 2005, p. 66)—and this already
difficult approach appears at odds with both the educational setting and the learning
style of the target group.
As a whole, however, LUCID was reported to have positive effects on students
and teachers alike. Teachers commented on the increased written output and
participation of students who had been only moderately engaged in their learning
pre LUCID. Students were doing a lot of journal writing, for example, because they
‘‘are engaged with the content in a different way’’. Also, the community-oriented
approach of some teachers reportedly led students to perceive their learning much
more positively and to have more enjoyment in completing learning tasks.
As LUCID was a relatively long-term project, there was a potential for retrieving
quantitative data on student outcomes and standard assessment, depending on how
meticulously the participating schools had recorded student achievement scores pre
and post LUCID. However, even if that had been done in the beginning of the
project, it might have been difficult to see too much impact on the standard
assessment data, as there is always considerable ‘noise’ within any school, and as it
is hard to tie multiple relationships (pedagogies, staff turnover, teacher differences)
to quantifiable data.
Parents
From interviews with parents and the accounts of teachers and project leaders, it
seems that in general parents appreciated the intent and efforts of LUCID. While
imaginative education did at times seem foreign to some parents, a majority felt
pride in their children learning about their cultural roots and pleased that this was
being done in engaging and creative ways. At a display of children’s work, parents
were ‘‘…happy and proud about what the children had done’’.
However, the focus on First Nations tradition and culture brought up an aspect of
the past that some parents were reluctant to engage with and appeared to want to
forget. When students were asked to interview their parents about their family
history for a class project, one student came back the next day saying that his dad
did not want to talk about his past, not even—when prompted by his teacher—about
the nice things discussed in class that his dad could talk about.
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Yet confronting First Nations communities with aspects of the past may also have
a healing effect on families and parents. As mentioned, parents felt that cultural
inclusion was ‘‘long overdue’’, showing appreciation that teachers cared about their
children’s background and culture, and not just because it is ‘effective schooling’.
One parent, on seeing his daughter’s teacher interacting with students, emailed the
teacher saying: ‘‘…your love and dedication to [the children’s] needs will help them
succeed at life… please do not lose hope in what they can achieve later in life’’. For
many of the parents, LUCID represented a reconciliation process missing in their
own schooling, and so they valued all the more deeply its presence in their
children’s education.
Support networks
There were five non-human actors in the LUCID project: (1) the masters course in
imaginative education that SFU offered to teachers in the project; (2) the mid-term
LUCID conference, showcasing the teachers’ classroom projects and project
leaders’ research; (3) formal meetings to aid collaboration, such as the LUCID
Advisory Committee; (4) informal meetings where teachers helped each other with
class teaching and projects; and (5) the LUCID website, containing newsletters and
shared materials and resources.
The Masters course proved to be an invaluable scaffold for the LUCID teachers,
giving them an advantage over other teachers in terms of imaginative teaching.
According to project leaders, breadth of understanding was ‘‘… simply not as good
in the teachers who are not part of the Masters’’.
The mid-term LUCID conference ran for 2 days in Port Edward (near Prince
Rupert), bringing together teachers and project leaders to celebrate what they had
achieved so far in their classes and in their research, respectively. Many teachers
found this a source of inspiration: ‘‘Seeing what others have done gave you new
ideas for your own class’’. Spending time together in a setting where they also slept
and had their meals further strengthened community spirit among participants in the
project.
The LUCID Advisory Committee was set up in all the school districts but
maintained most strongly in one. It regularly brought together school district
leaders, representatives from the First Nation Council, principals and teachers to
evaluate the short and long-term goals of the project. According to project leaders, it
was an effective vehicle for ‘‘collaboration and problem-solving’’. That the two
districts with less established committee meetings reported slightly less harmonious
working relationships is noteworthy, although it is unclear which is cause and which
is effect.
In the school district with a strong LUCID Advisory Committee, some teachers
also held weekly, informal meetings of their own to keep up a dialogue and help
each other with classroom projects. In the other two districts greater geographic
distances may have been a reason for not getting together informally.
The LUCID website currently (April, 2008) disseminates LUCID information
and outcomes to outsiders as well as participants through regular news updates,
newsletters, teacher resources and research papers. Despite an initial desire to pool
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resources online, project leaders indicated that ‘‘…it is difficult to get teachers to
participate in [a digital space] because of teachers being so busy as they are’’.
The ‘‘culturally layered’’ context
Finally, in the terminology of Latour (2005), a major but largely unspoken factor, or
‘actancy’, was the ‘culturally layered’ context itself, containing many tensions
within it. The material and educational disadvantages of First Nation communities
and the kind of poverty and alienation from the mainstream of Canadian society and
schooling have no doubt been factors that ‘make a difference’ to the LUCID project;
and alongside this, the non-Indigenous subject positions of others involved in
LUCID can also be said to have existed in terms of postcolonial relations of the
network, which can only have been critical to the network of relations going on in
LUCID.
1
One particular aspect of data relating to this tension—how language
proficiency may be pivotal in any endeavours to improve First Nation education—
will be explored further in the following section.
Discussion
Overarching themes
The previous section on the LUCID (f)actors showed that teachers, in particular, felt
that building a community around imaginative teaching and cultural inclusion had
been a major factor in successfully carrying out project objectives. Teachers
meeting to discuss and share successes and challenges was essential to building a
community of common intent, which in turn motivated and inspired the individual
teacher in his or her classroom practices. With the creation of the LUCID
community, teachers no longer felt isolated in their wish to be creative in their
teaching—or that it is inappropriate to teach First Nations content. Furthermore,
they had acquired shared languages for talking about imaginative and inclusive
education, as well as opportunities for communicating and networking to that end.
Data in the section on LUCID (f)actors also show that knowledge of students,
their community and the protocol needed to interact in accordance with community
wishes, are particularly important for the successful implementation of LUCID
objectives. Especially important is the modelling of such practices by the executive.
If project leaders, including principals, fail to exemplify these practices, it will have
an effect on the entire school ethos and the individual teacher’s classroom.
Connected to the notion of the executive as potential ‘change agents’ are also the
issues of resources and time, which have been suggested could be more adequate.
Employing school district leaders full time on the project and having more meetings
on a regular basis were mentioned as ways of bringing more alignment into the
LUCID network of actors. School district leaders, who in general were seen as
1
Drawn from personal email correspondence with Dr. Affrica Taylor, a Senior Lecturer at the University
of Canberra and expert on post-colonialism.
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important ‘cultural brokers’, also said that time set aside for the explicit teaching of
protocol to teachers was needed, as some teachers felt insecure about it and at times
even threatened by it.
The section on LUCID (f)actors furthermore established that working with
imaginative education in LUCID is problematic because of the inherent nature of
the topic itself. The imagination belongs in large part to the affective, emotional
domain, which historically has not been nurtured or encouraged in education. This,
combined with LUCID’s additional ‘ingredient’ of cultural inclusion, means that
assessing links between imaginative teaching, a culturally inclusive curriculum and
student learning outcomes presents something of a challenge. The strength of
LUCID may well turn out to be its holistic approach, so on one level the breakdown
of how much of any eventual change is attributable to one or other of the elements
of LUCID (cultural inclusion or imaginative teaching) may not be of great
concern—as long as they both seem to be working.
How the longhouse became a Victorian picket fence overnight
There is one theme that I would like to explore in particular, as it may be important
for a deeper understanding of the other themes. From the data on the LUCID
(f)actors, as well as from the larger literature, we learn that LUCID operates within
a setting that is beset with challenge. Alcohol and drug abuse, teenage pregnancy,
poverty, low school attendance and high dropout rates present difficult challenges
for any education system and pedagogy. This, combined with a public school
system that, as a whole, stands in stark contrast to the traditionally embodied and
experiential learning of First Nations children, puts LUCID in a position of trying to
exert an influence on a community, the workings of which to a large extent reside
outside the project’s sphere of influence.
Indeed, a social commentary came up during this research that was claimed to
have considerable influence on project intentions. Vincent, a proud First Nation
teacher in his thirties, recalls:
If you look at First Nations communities today, something happened in there.
The older generation made a hard shift in the 1880s, 1890s and early 1900s to
change to the European way of life. When you see pictures of their houses,
with the little white picket fences, you notice how well kept it all is, how they
kept their gardens. And they did that for a good 30 years. What happened after
that? The fences eventually fell down, and the houses fell into disrepair.
Ninety years later and the houses are still falling down and the fences haven’t
been replaced. What happened to their kids? Why didn’t their kids have that
drive and that same withitness that the old original population had, the people
who grew up speaking their Native tongue? Why is it that their kids seem to
fall off the rails? And what made these beautiful, graceful old people so
different? I remember visiting the house of an elder when I was younger.
There was a whole wall with racks of china – all matching teacups and plates
for putting on feasts. The old people had it together. They had goals. Yes, they
were trying to adopt European ways, and they did that with real grace at times.
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They were highly respected by both Natives and whites. How did the
following generation find it so difficult to follow in their parents footsteps?
There is a pause, then Vincent continues:
It wasn’t until I started to read Lev Vygotsky and how he believed that
language and thought are intimately connected that I started to understand this.
I now believe that the dramatic change that occurred from one generation to
the next came about because of a sudden language deficiency. The old
generation learned to think in their Native language and that was fine – they
thought powerfully. Then they tried to teach their kids English, many of them
believing that they would do their kids a favor by not teaching them their
traditional language.
2
The only problem was that the older generation was not
particularly good at English themselves, and so the kids did not learn a very
substantial form of English. In effect, the kids were left with no language
learned really well. And now it is intergenerational. The initial language is not
there anymore, and the insubstantial English is handed down generation to
generation. So the question is, do you fix this now by having First Nations
elements reintroduced into the curriculum – will that fix that problem?
Certainly, it may improve self-esteem, which in turn may have positive
influences on academic achievement, but it does not address the fundamental
challenge of a language deficiency. We need to focus on early language
intervention. In high school it is already too late.
Commenting on the sensitivity and social ramifications of this argument, Vincent
concluded:
To say all this is bound in taboo. It requires a certain amount of courage just to
discuss it. A lot of people understandably find it difficult to deal with this
argument. One thing is to say you have problems communicating. Another
thing is to link that to the very act of thinking itself. But, honestly, I think this
is the problem. If we help our kids to speak and thus think well, we in turn also
will help combat all the problems associated with bad decision-making, such
as teenage pregnancy, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, low school attendance rates,
and so on. The LUCID objectives presuppose that basics have been covered,
but the cognitive tools and imaginative teaching may only be a band-aid
solution to a much deeper social problem. Language development is needed –
for pre-school children as well as their parents.
While these comments may seem controversial to some, there is reason to have ‘‘a
certain amount of courage’’, as Vincent put it, to not disregard them without further
interrogation. If language deficiency is indeed at the root of many social and
academic problems, we as a society may need to direct more attention to this if we
are serious about improving the conditions of First Nations communities. Could it
really be that language and thinking are as intimately connected as Vygotsky (1985)
indeed argued so persuasively in the first half of the twentieth century? And if so,
2
Many First Nation children were also sent to residential school against the family’s will, where they
were prohibited to speak their mother tongue.
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can Vincent’s comments then be considered a sound extrapolation? While perhaps
displaying a somewhat nostalgic view of the older generation, partly formed, as he
admits, against European standards, do his comments not resonate with the literature
on language development and impoverishment in general?
Certainly the literature on intensive language development, not only in
indigenous communities, is congruent: children who speak and write well have
more academic success (James et al. 1995; Demmert 2001). Interestingly, however,
studies involving First Nations communities are not conclusive about the academic
benefits of learning Native languages in conjunction with English—most studies
finding some academic benefit (e.g., Smith et al. 1998; Lipka and McCarty 1994); a
few very little or none at all (e.g., James et al. 1995; Willeto 1999). One possible
explanation for the partial success of supplementary Native language tuition can be
found in the study conducted by Leap (1991) among Northern Ute Indians. This
showed that separated literacy programmes, in either the Native language or in
English, resulted in increased literacy levels—and sometimes in both languages
(Demmert 2001, p. 20). Moreover, studies on second-generation immigrant children
losing their mother tongue without acquiring a strong grasp of a second language
demonstrate a significant decline in academic ability (Cummins 2000). From at least
these two perspectives, it seems, the most important thing may not be what
languages are learned as long as at least one language is learned really well.
Recent research on First Nation languages in Canada (Norris 2008) shows that
the use of Native languages as a first language is in sharp decline. Only one in four
Aboriginal people (239,620) speaks an Aboriginal language, and 20% (47,155) of
those speak it as a second language. Learning an Aboriginal language as a second
language is increasing with the growth in school initiatives that promote Native
languages. But because learning a Native tongue as a second language is no
substitute for acquiring it as a first language (Royal Commission on Aboriginal
Peoples 1996, in Norris 2008, p. 19), it may do little to provide language as a
possible primary means of developing thinking. Certainly, learning Native
languages has been proven to contribute to increased self-esteem, community
well-being and cultural continuity (Demmert 2001)—which in themselves no doubt
have positive effects on academic achievement. And certainly, bilingualism, in
itself, has been proven to have positive effects on children’s linguistic and
educational development (Baker 2000; Cummins 2000). But Vincent’s argument
may help us to understand something very important in planning an approach to
First Nation language acquisition in general: that unless students become fully
proficient and fluent in their Native tongue—which is becoming more and more
difficult as those who speak it as a first language die out—they will still confront the
need to become fully proficient in a language as a basis for cognitive development.
Having researched Rudolf Steiner education in earlier work (Nielsen 2004), I was
also reminded by Vincent’s comments about the very different approach to language
development and thinking in Waldorf (Steiner) schools. I therefore asked one the
most respected experts on Steiner education that I know of, Dr Alduino Mazzone,
what his thoughts were in regard to the possible links between language
development and thinking in general. His response was:
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It seems to me that the possible intergenerational problem of language
deficiency in First Nation communities is closely tied to an inadequate
educational process that does not satisfy the basic needs of children… these
children at one time were engaged in their normal family life, with physical
activity and crafts and an oral tradition of stories and dance. Thereby their
thinking developed naturally and progressively. As the North American (i.e.
Western) educational system generally became more oriented towards
developing the intellect, the more holistic development of children in so-
called less developed cultures decreased to the point where the social and
cultural problems identified express themselves.
If we take a Steiner-based child and a curriculum development perspective on
how children develop the capacity to think, we naturally start in the preschool
and kindergarten years with exercising the Will by developing fine motor
coordination through physical movement (basic Eurythmy and games),
including finger games, knitting, weaving and other crafts, then in the
Primary school having a language-rich and artistic environment in which the
children draw and paint and listen to a wide range of stories, practise tongue
twisters, recite poems, chant tables etc. And after many years of practical and
imaginative thinking (a kind of feeling/thinking), eventually in the late
primary years and in the High school the curriculum turns to more abstract or
conceptual thought. Thus, the capacity for thinking also undergoes a process;
one that traverses willing and feeling and eventually reaches abstract thinking.
It is important to be clear that language and thought are inextricably bound to
each other. Remember that the child first stands then learns to speak and then
to think. It is not accurate to say that thoughts exist independently of language.
Yes! The realm of meaning is independent of language; indeed each culture
can achieve the same meaning but have a different language. Thoughts do
exist independently but without language one would never be able to express
them.
These words—backed by evidence of the quality of thinking among Steiner school
graduates (Oppenheimer 1999; IFO 1995; Ogletree 1996; Smilansky 1990; Gold
and Mann 1984)—lend a new angle to the discussion. The language problem may
stem not only from First Nation communities having lost their original language in
translation, so to speak, but also from having lost (or some would say, had taken
away) their original mode of ‘schooling’. Going on the above premise that thinking
develops from language, and language from physical activity, there is clearly a link
between thinking and physical activity (If A is connected to B, and B is connected to
C, then A cannot be disconnected from C!). But this is exactly where things have
changed so drastically for First Nations—from having a very experiential and
physically embodied learning to being in a modern education system that mostly
takes place within four classroom walls and which is saturated with theoretical
learning
3
3
This is notwithstanding that traditional First Nation child rearing included frequent exposure to
complex uses of language in oral narrative.
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The reader may remember the principal Robert’s comments about wanting the
four walls to disappear in First Nations education and First Nation learners being
‘‘ …very tactile-kinestetic learners—they need a ‘see-do’ approach’’. Many of the
LUCID teachers were also emphasising experiential and outdoor activities in their
classroom projects. As we have seen, the anecdotal evidence from these educators
of the effects this has on not only First Nations learners but all their students is
significant. We must also remember, of course, that the potential problems of
abstract and non-experiential learning are not peculiar to First Nation learners. From
Dewey (1916) to modern-day voices like Gatto (1997), direct and experiential
modes of learning have been highlighted as often deeper, wider and more
meaningful for all learners. The important point in this context, however, is that
experiential learning might be even more crucial for First Nation learners since,
until recently, they were immersed in such learning primarily and thus experienced
a sudden and abrupt transition to almost the opposite. This is nothing new in itself.
What may be less understood, however, is that their language development, and thus
their cognition, might well have undergone the most compromise in all of this.
What may also need further interrogation is the fact that the point of balance
between theory and activity may not be a universal convergence point for all
learners. Because of their history and traditional modes of education, First Nation
learners might need a more pronounced interface between ‘doing’ and ‘experience’
than their non-First Nation peers. The tradition of passing on knowledge orally from
one generation to another required of the learner the skill of reconstructing what had
been said by an elder. First Nation learners learned to live by hunting, fishing,
making crafts, dancing and telling stories. Can Westerners really understand the
type of experience and learning modes of discovery that have been the core
education of First Nations people? Maybe we may only catch a glimpse of this in
poetic statements:
Travelling in these giant cedar canoes, the Haida would regularly paddle their
home into, and out of, existence. With each collective paddle stroke they
would have seen their island sinking steadily into the sea while distant snow-
covered peaks scrolled up before them like a new planet. Few people alive
today have any notion of how it might feel to pull worlds up from beyond the
horizon by faith and muscle alone (Vaillant 2005, p. 52).
Also highlighting the profound importance of reconstructing experience, as well as
linking this to language skills, Oliver (1989, p. 175) writes:
there is no culture in books or libraries …unless it is reconstructed carefully
and painstakingly in the living brains of each new generation. All that is
preserved in libraries is the mere opportunity to perform this reconstruction.
But if the language skills and the habits of engaging in reconstruction are not
similarly preserved, then there will be no culture, no matter how large and
complete the libraries may become. We do not preserve ideas by building
libraries and recording voices. The only way to preserve culture is to train
people to rebuild it, to ‘regrow’ it, as the word ‘culture’ itself suggests, in the
only place it can grow – within themselves.
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At first glance, two seemingly different elements have been discussed in this
section: the importance of language development and the importance of physical
experiences in First Nations education. The concept presented here, however, is that
the two may exist on the same continuum. Of course, this may be true in general, as
the human being is not a dichotomy: our head is connected to our hands. However,
there may be no other instances where this holds more true than for First Nations
learners, given their recent tradition of embodied ‘schooling’ and given the
opportunity lost to many of them, due to historical events, of learning a language
really well.
I took the poetic license of giving this section the subtitle ‘How the longhouse
became a Victorian picket fence overnight’. Longhouses were the traditional
housing of the Pacific Northwest First Nations. These houses were as massive and as
long as the cedar trees from which they were built. In contrast, the Victorian picket
fences Vincent referred to are a much more fragile construction belonging to First
Nation ‘life’ after European settlement (picket fences also don’t work well on sandy
islands or rocky coasts—institutionalised structures often match the landscape
unless they are transplanted). The subtitle may be poetic, but there is little poetry in
what the analogy stands for: it is a story of how the traditional languages and modes
of living and learning of First Nations were abruptly substituted by incompatible
and, some would say, inadequate European modes of living and learning.
If there appears to be an implicit suggestion that life should revert to how it was
for First Nations before European settlement—in the belief that this is somehow
possible—there is not. What the above research findings and discussion suggest is
simply this: if we as a society want to support efforts, such as LUCID, to advance
First Nations communities, we may need to divert our attention and resources to all
the areas that may help First Nation communities. LUCID has been an example of
how education can be much more deliberately grounded in First Nation culture and
history and how such teaching can be made more emotionally engaging for all
learners. But there is also the need, it seems, for a super-human effort to turn around
the crippling effect on many First Nation learners of not having a strong command
of a language. Early language intervention and working with parents is needed on a
much more committed scale. A case in point is Vincent’s proposal for an early
language intervention programme at his school being turned down because of lack
of funding. Committing more resources to language development through
legislative channels, combined with more engaging and embodied learning modes
in schools, could turn out to be the foundation for everything else. Or put in another
way, such efforts could turn out to have positive effects on many social problems
simply because the latter may be direct results of a lack of the former.
Conclusion
This study presents research on the efforts and outcomes of LUCID. It confirms that
creating a community of shared intent adds value, that the executive can be an agent
for change and that emotionally engaging teaching can be problematic as well as
potentially transformational. Exploring complex cultural tensions, the study has also
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indicated that compromised language acquisition may be central to many other
problems associated with First Nations education—in turn raising the question of
whether this might apply to other Indigenous, post-colonial settings, such as the
Australian Aboriginal context, where similar problems exist. If having no
opportunity to master either a mother tongue or English—being ‘‘lost in
translation’’—is indeed at the root of non-autonomous living and learning, rigorous
efforts in early language intervention seem overdue in many places in the world.
Acknowledgments Special thanks goes to the LUCID participants who helped member-check this
paper, to Julia Smith for editing the final draft of this paper—and finally, but not least, to the First Nations
communities, schools, teachers and children who made me feel so very welcome in their communities.
Appendix A
Standard questions for interviews and focus groups:
1 In what ways are you, or have been, involved in the LUCID project?
2 What made you become part of LUCID?
Mainly the FN inclusion part?
Mainly the IE part?
Combination of both?
3 Has the involvement in LUCID changed or improved your own imaginative side of your personality
(feelings/creativity/spirituality)? If so, how?
4 Has the involvement in LUCID changed or improved your feelings or attitudes with regard to First
Nation inclusion? If so, how?
5 Has the involvement in LUCID changed or improved your current practices with respects to both
imaginative education and First Nation inclusion? If so, how?
6 Who or what are the main elements or links supporting the LUCID project?
7 Who or what determines the processes of operation/teaching at your school?
8 Have other teachers become interested or wanting to get involved? Why/why not?
9 In your view, what are the most important roles played by teachers who work with First Nations
students?
10 Can you identify what helps and what hinders the effectiveness of the LUCID project?
11 How successful is the LUCID project in supporting First Nations students via imaginative education?
12 What overall suggestions do you have for improving the way teachers support the learning of First
Nations students?
13 What suggestions do you have for improving the way teachers can use imaginative and more
engaging education to foster FN inclusion?
14 Where do you envision yourself after the LUCID project is over?
15 At the end of the LUCID project, how will you ensure a continuous positive trajectory with regards to
teaching imaginatively and working with First Nation inclusion?
16 At the end of the LUCID project, and if so desired, how will you ensure continuous reflection and
reciprocal learning in your professional practices with regard to FN inclusion and imaginative
education?
17 Are there any other comments you would like to make about the LUCID project or your
involvement?
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The author
Dr. Thomas William Nielsen is an Assistant Professor at the University of Canberra, Australia. A
member of the National Values Education Project Advisory Committee, he has served in several of the
Australian Government values education projects.
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