Illuminating the Shadows: Recognising Children Who Go Unnoticed in the Classroom.

Marie Campbell
 
 

A scenario: It is report writing time. I have check lists and notes on all my students. For most students this material is supplementary to what I am able to describe regarding their skills. I have a sense of where my students are with their learning; the documentary evidence is a prompt.

I come to write on Sarah and Sam. 'Yes, I know Sarah, I know Sam', I say to myself. I know what they look like. Sarah and Sam have completed certain tasks; they have grades and comments beside their names. But with Sarah and Sam, I do not have any anecdotes to flesh out my records; aspects of their learning and or, their personalities, are obscured by shadows. I ask myself this time, 'what do I really know of these children?'

This scenario left me feeling quite uneasy. However, it provided an opportunity for reflection. I examined my class lists and selected children whose skills and capacities were not apparent to me without reference to a check list. On average there were three in every class which I teach. I could say fairly, that as I teach more than 300 children, keep records of skills and know the names of the children, I am doing well. However, I am concerned that these children should be enigmas to me. Equity and fairness are very important notions in my professional credo. Why do I know so little about some children, particularly as at least two in my focus group, have been around my school, with their parent and siblings, since they were babies. In the latter cases, even though I have contexts in which to place these children, they also allude me! I know that several of my 'shadowy' students are very able intellectually, but I am not sure whether they enjoy the subject or if they are being challenged sufficiently.

While pondering my problem, I was buttressed by Walkerdine's analysis (1992, p.2) of this aspect of schooling. She reasoned that the notion of the classroom as 'a place in which each child was considered separately' should be regarded as a 'fiction'. She continued,

Walkerdine's comments also resonate with me because I have been conducting observations of a term in length, for the past three years, and though some of my current 'shadowy figures' were participants in earlier ethnographic, observational work, these children did not come to my attention in terms of their silence, or propensity to blend into the background. I viewed them at this earlier period, as either using music as relaxing 'time out', or as a compliant group. I did not particularly notice them or their silence. Considering the intensity of those earlier observations, I am aware that grasping all the perspectives of classroom life is a 'fiction'. However, this realisation does not dispel my interest in redressing a situation which is not totally satisfactory. I do not expect to function with a panoptic view ( Foucault, 1984): just to know the 'shadowy' children a little better and offer them opportunities which are available to their peers. I have to ask why I missed particular children? My earlier work had language as a focus which makes it imperative that I examine the silence of my current focus group and seek ways to provide them with a voice. The action research model as proposed by Kemmis and McTaggart (1982) which is an ongoing feature of my classroom practice, provides a path for approaching this problem. Its spiral mode of planning, acting, observing, reflecting and advancing to the next cycle with a revised plan, offers a focused and systematic way to work through this problem.

I am able to view the classroom with more discernment through a metaphor - a simple device, but one which allows me a new perspective, one which makes my everyday situation strange. The classroom becomes a stage inhabited by performers. I sit in a distant row, I observe, I reflect on the aptness of the analogy of light and darkness on the stage in relation to classroom. When we gaze on a space the areas in light attract our focus. The performers draw our attention when they emerge from the shadows and are clearly seen, marked by specific activity. They are disregarded until this point. Look beyond the dazzle of the fantastic performers, the antics of the 'enfants terribles' and the support of the good, solid cast members, to glimpse hidden figures. Perhaps these students seek the solace of the shadows; perhaps teachers place them there inadvertently. Most likely, it is a combination of anxiety and relegation which leaves these children, hiding behind others, resting away from the action, or waiting hopefully for their turn to take centre stage.

The 'Sams and Sarahs' of my teaching life are now sought so that I may respond to their positions in the margins - in the wings, and show them that their contributions are valued.These children, the ones I have have identified as 'shadowy', are not to be viewed as a 'pathologised' group. I do not see them as having something wrong with them! I am interested in why I have not internalised the level of their skills, why I have not noticed them other than at a very superficial level. However, I do not intend to pathologise myself as an inadequate teacher. It is too easy to perceive 'failure' in the classroom in terms of a particular notion of personality related either to the student or teacher. Teaching and learning are processes rather than finalised tasks. Each year brings a new set of dynamics and new problems to solve. I am able to grasp the contradictions in my situation and have a frame in which to place them. My 'shadowy' children are not in that position. By recognising these children, I am acknowledging that they have been overlooked and that their exclusion, for whatever reason, has an impact on the how the curriculum is shaped. The bias is not in their direction!

Alton-Lee and Nuthall in a research project (1993) focused on how children perceived and responded to subtle cultural and gender biases in the curriculum, along with the presentation by the teacher. These researchers remind us that 'cultural bias can also influence the enacted curriculum through the teacher's split second decisions about who can contribute to the enacted curriculum through public participation. If a teacher unwittingly favours the participation of a particular group of children, then that group's knowledge, experiences, and cultural perspectives shape the curriculum content.' And so it may be that the curriculum content assumes prior knowledge which is not meaningful to, or does not match the predilections of the silent or unnoticed children. The delivery and or style of classroom management may prejudice their ability to learn or at least, make it difficult for them to negotiate a path where they are provided with regular opportunities to actually be seen as full members of the group!

That children do not complain, that they do not make trouble, that they appear docile, does not necessarily mean that all is well. This exterior may shield anguish. Walkerdine (1992, p.46) points to the revelations behind the recognition of 'struggle, conflict, difficulty and pain'. While her focus is towards the problem of coherence of identity for girls, her analysis is pertinent to all marginalised people and certainly resonates in the area of my 'shadowy' children.

The silent, withdrawn child who appears to accept regulation may, covertly, be suppressing anger and harbouring hostility. The passivity of such a child may spring from not knowing the social rules of the school, from fearing exclusion from a desired location, in other words, it may spring from difference. Again, I draw on Walkerdine's feminist analysis and use it to understand marginalised children: in this case my 'shadowy children. She explains that 'a denial of the reality of difference means that the girl must bear the burden of her anxiety herself' (Walkerdine, 1992, p.46). The effects of difference may be viewed by the child as self-failure. And teachers and parents regularly place such children into a 'pathologised group'. It is no wonder the child struggles and withdraws.

Passivity tends to render a child powerless, and because the children in my study are invisible, their powerlessness, or perhaps, even oppression, is not recognised. When I began to comment to colleagues on this issue, several were quick to refute the 'passivity-as- lacking-power' thesis, reminding me that silent children could be extremely powerful. Initially I heeded their comments; I was inclined to make a distinction between the child who goes unnoticed, and the child who uses silence as a source of power. At this stage of research, however, my observations and theoretical understanding, suggest that silence is employed as resistance against a sense of annihilation; against loss of identity. From this perspective, one is led to reconsider the curriculum in terms of bias, or mode of presentation. It is worth looking at the possibility, that we are not dealing with unreasonable opposition, rather, we could consider that these students, the ones who appear to employ silence as a weapon, are buffeted between the cross currents they experience. They find a means of dealing with the anxiety of daily school life as they move between different contexts: those of background, gender, and class. Through rethinking the use of silence by students, teachers may expose and acknowledge difference rather than reducing and assimilating it into practices, which, as Walkerdine (1992) explains, 'assume a universal class-and gender-neutral "child", who in development, passes from one "environment" or "context" to another through the utilization and facilitation of cognitive and linguistic capacities'. With these notions in mind, the unnoticed or the silent child can hardly be viewed as powerful. The system is powerful. Those at odds with it use what is at hand, and sometimes silence is the only thing available, although this does not appear to be a conscious choice!

Post structuralist theory has shown the importance of looking for the silences, gaps, absences and margins as vantage points from which to view and develop critique of our 'naturalised' positioning of society . It shows us how we think in binary oppositions and privilege one half of the pair. And it shows how we can see afresh by reversing the binary opposition. Such a theoretical perspective informs my approach to teaching and research. In the light/shadow dichotomy, light is privileged. The children who excel, talk, or who noticed by behaviour - good or aberrant - stand out or are lit ,whereas the shadows, inhabited by the shy, silent and bored, are hidden. My current project is to privilege this latter group; a type of affirmative action! Rather than flood them with light, my aim is to encourage them to be at least silhouetted against the light through small inclusions. Their names are used every lesson and simple 'property management' tasks are given where some speech is required and there is no chance for failure. (Please Sarah, count how many children there are here and find out who is missing. Please Sam, remind me to write on the board the names of children who go to the toilet. Sarah, could you point to that flashcard for me. And so on.)

The spaces children occupy and the boundaries they need to negotiate as they as shift from one realm of discursive practice to another, always involve a complex of positionings and the possibility of persecution as the result of this shift in relations. Children who take risks which mark them as 'clever', 'brilliant', have been affirmed in such a position in other practices, particularly within a family where the discourse matches that of the school. With this realisation, I, as a teacher have the power to provide opportunities for the 'shadowy children to be affirmed. Teachers generally, have a duty to to recognise that children move between discursive spaces and may be in conflict with the practices of the school. I suggest that we give them access through practice with the prevailing discourse but also respect their backgrounds.

Walkerdine (1992, pp.50, 51) gives the fine example of Charlotte who displays open conflict in attacking the teacher's 'claim to know'. While his power is threatened, he evaluates her as 'brilliant':

1) Observations

To date I have found the observations very difficult. The 'shadowy' children are not easy to track even though I have identified them and have my note pad near by with a column for each. I could write much about other events in each class where on the whole the interactions are pleasing. My thoughts frequently turn to Bert, the aggressive child, and several like him, for if a class is going to run well, I must plan for the 'Berts' in my teaching life. They persist in monopolising my thoughts.

The children who run past others to get to the front door of the music room gasping for breath are going to be noticed whereas the child who is not overtly enthusiastic or has a less aggressive approach does not catch the eye of a teacher who is directing one class out the door as another arrives! The noticeable children tend to have something to say - be it about music or not - and intend to be seen as active. The activity is not always directed towards the given task, but it is noticed - and managed when it is disruptive to the class!

The 'shadowy' or silent children generally do not threaten teachers. They do not put our reputations on the line in the way that the inability to control a situation which involves noise and disruption threatens our reputations and possibly our positions. For this reason, discipline looms large in the lives of most teachers, and failure to manage the scene tends to reduce one to the status of an 'impotent master', a useful term drawn from the psychoanalyst Lacan. Teachers who fail to successfully apply the sanctions at their disposal, find the ground supporting their confidence falls away. With this scenario a resurgent fear, at a subconscious level at least, it would be convenient to focus on the action, the disruption, and let silent students be - just not notice them! For many teachers this has been the unintentional reality. But integrity demands more! And with questions of integrity and morality there are always contradictions; situations are rarely clear-cut or transparent.

A contradiction I am aware of, is the pull between accepting difference in my students and the desire to 'normalise' them. Foucault (1984) has helped us to see that power results not from authoritarianism but from a more insidious source that is not readily visible: the apparatuses of social regulation - governing practices which are based on the notion of a normal individual. While I say I have no intention of 'pathologising' my 'shadowy' students, could it be said that I am trying to 'normalise' them? I find this situation difficult to resolve. Accountability - to parents, to the school board - keeps raising its head, and this notion is based on benchmarks and the concept of norms. I am aware of my position of power and my surveillance of the children. In my previous cycle of research, the children were partners in the observations. They knew I was writing about happenings in the class and when I used their words I always asked their permission. My observations of the 'shadowy children' is of necessity covert as I believe the children would react negatively to this type of attention. The only way at present I am able to resolve this situation is to say that as the 'shadowy' children find a voice, I then involve them in tracking their progress.

A REflective Postscript

A formal presentation to colleagues which focussed on my observations of students in the shadows, brought the topic into full view and provided a frame and captions through metaphoric language in which my colleagues could place their own figurative snapshots. As my fellow teachers fed back snippets of conservations relating to 'shadowy' children, it became clear that my way of placing these children - as relegated to the shadows - had provided for several colleagues, a pathway for travel. It led them to a viewing position from where they could now see their own students in a similar predicament. The ability to view anew is the artistic and creative element in in any work; it help us endow it with meaning.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Appendix

Here, I highlight a small number of my 'shadowy' children as a sample. Initially I identified about three children in every class which I teach - two classes at year one level, and three classes at each of years two, three and four levels - in all, thirty five children. While I continue to observe all these children, it became an unmanageable task to keep regular journal notes on this number. I decided to base my written observations on twenty children from years three and four. My reasons were pragmatic; the year three children I see in groups of no more than eight, one lesson per week as well as in their whole class groups. The year 4 students require reports at the end of each semester which would be helped by closer observations. Both years three and four engage in a session of choral singing which is directed by a colleague. I attend this session so have a chance to observe children without focussing on teaching duties. None of children chosen were new to the school: I would not expect to have an in depth knowledge of the work and interests of new students in less than a term. The children in my focus group are individually quite different.

I have been around Marty since she was a toddler yet I doubt that I know her capabilities. From her high level answers when I ask her a question, I realise she is highly intelligent. She rarely asks questions of me. When she speaks her voice is soft, so her peers mostly cannot hear her and call out to that effect. In group tasks, both creative and problem based, she contributes; sometimes she leads but at a restrained level. Her peers follow her when she takes a leadership role. Her facial expressions show confidence, occasionally she appears remote, but little more. She requests to play the piano at regular intervals. Her practical skills appear inconsistent. When they are not of a high standard I find myself surprised.

Further Reflection:This reaction on my behalf is one of those points of interest - the ruptures - that post-structuralist theory tells us to examine. Why do I have such high expectations of Marty's practical work? Maybe her ability does not stretch to excellence in performance yet she enjoys it, hence her requests to play! Yet this does not seem consistent with the very quiet demeanour. There may be a more simple explanation: her background.

The parents are undemanding and grateful for what the school offers their children. They speak softly, are restrained in their demeanour but always willing to say a few words when passing by. Marty's brother was 'painfully shy' for most of his primary years. Marty is used to a restrained level of talk. Perhaps she expects to achieve because she sees her father achieving as a very successful professional and her family has confidence in her ability. From this perspective I see this student as self-possessed and considering her ability to take leadership roles and inspire confidence in her peers, she should be given more opportunities for just this. In time, a stronger voice would be to her advantage; this might be developed through role playing where demands are made on her character (role), and or through speech and drama lessons, where specific time is allocated to voice projection and resonance.

Finally, my high expectations of her performances may yet be realistic, so I must make opportunities to chat with Marty and see if there are obstacles to her achieving excellence. Perhaps she just does not practice!

Peg looks startled most of the time. She rarely smiles but joins in all activities and does what is asked of her. She came to my attention a year ago during our small violin groups because her performance skills were very good yet she showed little pleasure in our complements and rarely made any comment, though would answer if asked a question. In an attitude survey at the end of the year she chose to put her name to the response sheet, though the children had the choice to remain anonymous, and most chose the latter option. There was a comment box at the end which was optional and Peg wrote 'music is my most favourite thing'! I was extremely surprised as I had never seen any indication of this.

Further Reflection: Since then, Peg has been party to a superb group composition and smiled as she performed. The students in this ensemble were individually congratulated on their work and I summarised the skills and musical devices used by each performer. As Peg passed me at the conclusion of the lesson, I reiterated some of my positive comments about her work. Subsequently, she has approached me and asked to play a piece on the piano for the class. She does not learn piano but has worked-out some popular tune and wants to share it with the class. She made her request in a strong, deep, resonant voice - one that shows definite dramatic possibilities. I now find an analogy for her in Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures, (the Dying Slaves) commanding figures which appear almost ready to break forth from the marble blocks in which they are incarcerated. Peg comes from a family of high achievers. Her older brother is extremely articulate, and I have heard the term 'gifted' used to describe him. I have little further information, but the value of achievement would be at least a covert message she would receive from her background. In silence she did not risk failure.

Taylor has been around my part of the the school since he was a baby. I taught his siblings who were reserved Until recently, Taylor has been extremely reticent to be noticed and has found it difficult to mix and make friends. Taylor has a limited vocabulary which would also have an impact on his learning and willingness to work. He has been perceived by his class teachers over the years as 'not very bright'.

As with Peg, in small violin group last year, I discovered that he had excellent fine motor skills and a natural flair for finding his way around the instrument though he found the conceptual work difficult. He received consistent positive feedback for his fine technical skills. Photographs had been used to show the children their skill development with bow holds and posture: Taylor's bow photograph demonstrated a perfect hold and we asked him if we could display it in the classroom as a model. He did not say much but his face told the story. His peers regularly examined the photo and made friendly comments to him. I anticipated that the opposite may be the reaction so monitored the comments from a distance.

Since then,Taylor has become more vocal; he recently approached me to inquire about individual tuition for an instrument. Subsequently, he commenced lessons, has done very well and is a member of the school band.

He has made friends, particularly with an aggressive student - Bert. At every opportunity Taylor chooses to sit with Bert. Or perhaps there is some coercion involved organised by Bert! However, Bert has influence over Taylor and even when they are not seated together Bert's behaviour attracts the interest of Taylor who is unable to concentrate on anything else.

Recently, Taylor has become become disruptive in class and quite rude in the way he speaks to teachers. He has refused to attempt the class activities unless they are performance based. I made an appointment to speak to him in the presence of his class teacher. I mentioned all his recent successes with performance, reiterated the expectations that he attempt work, and told him if he did not cooperate in the next two sessions, I would phone his parents. The outcome has been work of an acceptable standard and a student who shows pleasure in his achievements.

Further Reflection: Taylor has been around my part of the the school since he was a baby. I taught his siblings who were very reserved. The family members are economic in their use of language. Taylor is not a natural scholar but I now wonder if over years he has developed a certain mind-set which has reinforced a notion of inability to himself, peers and teachers. In recent times, he has gained some attention though his new role as 'side-kick clown' to Bert's, 'class clown no. 1', a role Bert takes when he is not playing a more aggressive part. I have built on the insights I received through his violin work and have attempted to give him a voice that speaks of his learning rather than the antics of his friend. He is a child who has been silent, who was beyond the spotlight, who has found his way from the wings towards the pool of light but is obscured by the shadow of his aggressive friend.

Taylor's low self esteem and unsuccessful school record, point to his being safe in the silent role that he previously took, or hoping for admiration through his audacity as Bert's associate.

Anthony looks bright and alert. He often has his hand up and when called on to answer; he always shows that he understands what is going on. He speaks softly, though clearly and never calls out or interrupts. He never causes trouble in group activities. He always smiles and says hello when he passes me in the playground, but never initiates any further conversation. In my student checklist he has high marks for all tasks though I can never visualise him doing those tasks. He is easy to define as the child who never puts a foot wrong but I can barely articulate his skills or recall situation which may provide anecdotes. My recent recognition of this 'shadowy' child has led me to begin to have some knowledge of his personality. He enjoys talking to me if I walk beside him and show him that I am interested in his weekend activities. He is very keen to be picked to share his knowledge but lacks the assertiveness to show his hand unless there is a specific question to answer. I am beginning to see his specific skills in group performance and comment on them which gives him pleasure. He is still easy to forget because other characters in the class overshadow him in various ways but as I begin to place him in my picture, he becomes a little more illuminated.

Through recognising that I lose sight of him and by attempting to redress this situation, I am gradually getting to know his quite prodigious skills. During his recent absence I noticed he was missing. Upon his return, I remarked that I had missed him. He appeared pleased and told me about his holiday.

Further Reflection: At this stage I see the excessive politeness of Anthony as a hindrance for him. He appears frightened to take any risks for fear of 'not doing the right thing'. As it is, he is accepted by his peers because he never invades anyone else's territory. He is never a threat. Should he 'say the wrong thing' he risks being 'thrown out of paradise' - the longed for resolution of the bourgeois dream', to use a powerful figure from Walkerdine ( 1990, p. 47)

Dean on the other hand has eluded me for most of two years. He is more like a ghost than a shadow. I constantly forget to observe him. He appears a contented child. He smiles, causes no trouble but floats by, leaving no mark of his sojourn. Recently, I was told of difficulties in his home life which involve insecurity and a situation likely to breed anxiety. I have made a point of speaking to him casually out of the class situation. This has helped me follow his work in class with more precision. His skills are growing; he participates in all group activities even when all class members take turns to perform. At this stage he does not volunteer. I now remember to ask him if he has thought about having an extra turn. He politely answers,'no thanks'.

Further Reflection: Dean has learn to fit in and not cause any ripples either at home or at school. Perhaps if he is not noticed there may be fewer disruptions to his difficult life and his anxiety can be suppressed. Now that I notice him, and give positive feedback he does appear to be growing in self-esteem and skill.

The accounts given, provide a sample-cross-section of my focus group. The children are quite different. What they have in common is that they are all enigmas to me - my own 'enigma variations'!
 
 
 
 

REFERENCES

Alton-Lee, A. and Nuthall, G.(1993). Reframing classroom research: A lesson from the private world of children. Harvard Educational Review, 63, 51-84.
Foucault, M.(1984). The Foucault reader. ed.P. Rabinow. Harmonsworth, Middlesex: Penguin
Kemmis, S. and McTaggart, R. eds. (1982). The action research planner. Geelong: Deakin University Press.
Walkerdine, V. (1992). Schoolgirl fictions. London, New York: Verso.