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(De/Re)-constructing teachers and their work : a discourse analysis of British Columbia's 21st-century.. 2012

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(De/Re)-Constructing teachers and their work: A discourse analysis of British Columbia’s 21st-century policy agenda by CORY STEEVES B.A., University of South Alabama, 2002 B.Ed, University of British Columbia, 2009 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Cross Faculty Inquiry in Education) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver) December 2012 © Cory Steeves, 2012 ABSTRACT This study made use of content and discourse analysis to critically examine how the ideas of ‘good teaching’ and ‘good teachers’ were developed and used within the policy-document A Vision for 21st Century Education. Released in 2010 by British Columbia’s Premier’s Technology Council, A Vision for 21st Century Education is a localized policy that attempts to re-imagine key features of teachers and their work in ways that are consistent with the goals of the larger 21st-century policy agenda currently circulating the world. Through my use of content and discourse analysis, I show how A Vision for 21st Century Education promotes a vision of schooling that is largely a neoliberal and managerialist enterprise that relegates teachers and teaching to subordinate roles within processes of policy development and policy implementation. The study identifies two prominent discourses within A Vision for 21st Century Education: ‘learnification’ translates and reduces public education to terms of ‘learners’ and ‘learning,’ and ‘accountingization’ re-imagines teachers’ work as ‘that which can be counted.’ I take care to show how these discourses (i) are developed within the text through genre and style, modalization and passivation; and (ii) subordinate teachers beneath the values of policy makers. I argue that this relative devaluation of teachers and their work provides a basis for increased school conflicts, contributes to elevated stress among teachers, and may encourage teacher ‘burn- out.’ As a point of contrast, I sketch an alternative vision of the role of teachers’ work that is grounded in democratic values and practices.!  ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................................  ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ...........................................................................................................  iii LIST OF FIGURES .................................................................................................................... v ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ..........................................................................................................  vi DEDICATION ............................................................................................................................  vii CHAPTER ONE: CIRCUMSCRIBING A FIELD OF INQUIRY .........................................  1 1.1 Scope and structure of study ....................................................................................................  2 1.2 Problem: Terrorized teachers ................................................................................................... 3 1.3 Standpoint and orientation .......................................................................................................  5 1.4 Methodology ..........................................................................................................................  7 1.5 Purpose and significance of study ............................................................................................ 8 CHAPTER TWO: THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK AND LITERATURE REVIEW: POLICY AND TEACHERS ......................................................................................................  10 2.1 Policy as Mirror of Erised ...................................................................................................... 10 2.2 Policy, power, and discourse .................................................................................................. 12 2.3 Analyzing policy .................................................................................................................... 14 2.4 Teachers, policy, and a politics of authority ............................................................................ 16       2.4.1 Learnification ................................................................................................................ 16       2.4.2 Accountingization .......................................................................................................... 17 2.5 Teacher bodies: Being written into competing discourses ...................................................... 19  iii CHAPTER THREE: METHODOLOGY: DISCOURSE ANALYSIS MEETS 21CL ........  24 3.1 Anchoring policy as discourse ............................................................................................... 24 3.2 Managing data ........................................................................................................................ 26       3.2.1 Data collection ............................................................................................................... 26 3.3 Data and data analysis ............................................................................................................ 28 3.4 Generalizability ...................................................................................................................... 31 CHAPTER FOUR: GENRE ANALYSIS: (DE/RE)CONTEXTUALIZING A VISION FOR 21ST CENTURY EDUCATION ............................................................................................... 33 4.1 Framing the Mirror of Erised: Problems and solutions for B.C.’s schools and teachers ........ 33 4.2 Genre ...................................................................................................................................... 37 CHAPTER FIVE: STYLES OF LEARNIFICATION AND ACCOUNTINGIZATION IN A VISION FOR 21ST CENTURY EDUCATION ...................................................................  45 5.1 Style ....................................................................................................................................... 45 5.2 Interdiscursive analysis: Teachers as technicians or democratic agents? .............................. 57 CHAPTER SIX: CONCLUDING THOUGHTS AND ARROWS IN THE DARK ...........  61 6.1 21st-century learning: New bottle, old w(h)ine ................................................................... 61 6.2 Overview of findings: 21CL, as refracted through the researcher’s Mirror of Erised .......... 64 6.3 Foregrounding limitations, gaps, and holes ........................................................................... 66 6.4 Recommendations for further research: Policy analysis as a game of kick the can ............... 67 6.5 Suggestions for policy and practice: Appeals and arrows ..................................................... 69 REFERENCES ........................................................................................................................... 71  iv LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Mapping policy and teachers’ work ............................................................................. 23 Figure 2: A Vision for 21st Century Education - Skills and attributes ......................................... 35 Figure 3: “Transformative” vision or management talk on display? ........................................... 40 Figure 4: Modalization in A Vision for 21st Century Education .................................................. 41 Figure 5: Condensed image of A Vision for 21st Century Education ........................................... 50 Figure 6: Summarizing research questions and assertions ........................................................... 64  v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Although obscured from view, this study stands upon the shoulders of giants. First and foremost, this research would not have been undertaken without the support of Her Highness—who has the dubious privilege/curse of sharing a life with a fool, and sustaining a nomad in flight. At the same time, I am also indebted to Marion Porath—who had the audacity to encourage me to chase provocations; Taylor Webb— who helped me see the light within the intermezzo; Claudia Ruitenberg—who reminded me of Nietzsche’s maxim: “What does not kill me, makes me stronger”; and Michelle Stack—who helped anchor the importance of discourses in policies. Finally, I must extend a note of gratitude to the denizens of The Hill—a Reverend who taught me chaos, a Buddha who showed me the value of ‘launch pads,’ and a Saint who taught me fraternity—thank you all for having faith in me. ! vi DEDICATION I dedicate this work to the friends of the commons and the defenders of a more democratic otherwise: May it bring you tools for play—and battle. ! vii Chapter 1  Introduction: Circumscribing a field of inquiry In a multicultural, socioeconomically striated province like British Columbia (Reynolds, 2012), it should be no surprise that successful implementation of education policy initiatives is contingent on relationships among institutionally nested policy actors. At times these actors may work together, forming uneasy ‘tactical alliances’ (Apple, 2000);1 and, although there may be significant tensions and conflicts within these alliances, in general their overall aim is to provide the “educational conditions believed necessary both for increasing international competitiveness, profit, and discipline and for returning us to a romanticized past of the ‘ideal’ home, family, and school” (pp. 244-245). At other times the relationships between these policy actors might even be characterized as sectarian—with bitter rivalries, ideological grandstanding, and outright duplicity (Fleming, 2011).  Meanwhile, in an age marked by extreme inequalities (Crow and Lodha, 2011) and austerity (Lansley, 2010), B.C.’s schools are not unique in their struggle to accommodate initiatives which are presented as “fundamental to the future sustainability of the nation’s economy” (21st Century Learning Associates, 2011, p. 1). Generally speaking, this approach to education policy has included a “relentless focus on results that matter” (Partnership for 21st Century Skills, 2004, p. 1), and has sought to placate “the needs of business” (Nordgren, 2011, p. 120).  Against this backdrop of transnational ‘economic imperative,’ I was interested in how these economic concerns related to the desires, values, and dreams of teachers. Specifically, I wondered if—and how—teachers’ work was being written into, or constructed within education policies. Beginning with my local context, I learned that B.C.’s political establishment articulated an economic concern for public education with its advocacy for a model of education reform known as 21st-century education (Allen, 2010).  At the outset I should emphasize that 21st-century education is a global policy agenda, and that approaches to and applications of 21st-century education share common themes, but vary widely. Trilling  1 1 Apple (2000) warns that a “new power bloc has been formed that has increasing influence in education. . . . This power bloc combines multiple fractions of capital who are committed to neo-liberal marketized solutions to educational problems...” (p. 244). and Fadel (2009) described 21st-century education as emphasizing skills which can be grouped under three overarching topics: learning and innovation skills, digital literacy skills, and life and career skills. Silva (2009), like many, interchangeably appealed to the need for 21st-century education and 21st-century learning. She underlined the fact that traditional disciplines like mathematics, science, and language arts are accommodated within 21st-century learning (21CL), and are framed within a discourse of the needs of “a new workforce reality” (p. 630).  This study examines a local version of the 21CL policy agenda to identify the discourses used in constructing idealized versions of teachers and their work. I selected 21CL to analyze because it explicitly linked teachers’ work with relaying ‘21st-century skills,’ and drew legitimacy from global economic imperatives—under different ideas of consensus.  1.1 Scope and structure of study  21CL encompasses a constellation of discourses that circumscribe many aspects of schooling: curricula, assessment, professional development, etc. Thus, to delimit the field of study and locate the discourses used to (re-)construct teachers’ work, I singled out one 21CL policy text for document analysis: A Vision for 21st Century Education (Premier’s Technology Council [PTC], 2010). Released in late 2010 by the PTC—a group of technology enthusiasts culled from the “private sector and academia” (Government of British Columbia, n.d.)—A Vision for 21st Century Education is characteristic of 21CL policy in three particularly meaningful ways: (i) it was not drafted by teachers or scholars of education; (ii) it firmly circumscribes public schooling within a discourse of economic functionalism, and (iii) it articulates an idealized vision of ‘good teaching’ and ‘good teachers.’ In addition to these points, I was particularly interested in the tensions evoked by the text’s conceptualization of what teachers ought to be doing, and marginalization of the voices and values of teachers—in a discussion of their own work.  2 1.2 Problem: Terrorized teachers   Interestingly, British Columbia’s Teachers’ Federation (BCTF) has taken an active role in considering the potential impacts of 21CL in B.C. and has drawn attention to the possible opportunities that this initiative may have for teachers to collaborate with the government. For instance, Naylor (2011) —a senior researcher in the BCTF—considered 21CL as an opportunity for teachers and policy makers to work together when he stated that A Vision for 21st Century Education might “provide a platform for an improved level of collaboration and partnerships to explore 21st century learning practices and issues involving school districts, the BCTF, the Ministry of Education, and universities” (p. 26).  Notwithstanding, Janet Steffenhagen (2010)—an education journalist—questioned why A Vision for 21st Century Education was released by the Premier’s Technology Council (PTC)—and not British Columbia’s Ministry of Education. She cited Stepan Vdovine—an elected school trustee in Maple Ridge, B.C.—who expressed reservations over the exclusion of educators and the privileging of “corporate figures”: Given the scope and importance of work done by the PTC, one would have thought that some members of the blue ribbon panel would either be teachers or have some pedagogical experience. Yet, none of the members listed on the PLC’s page are connected to K-12. In fact, the only person who has a remote connection to teaching is Premier Campbell, who briefly taught in Nigeria in 1970s. The panel does, however, consist of over a dozen corporate figures from the IT world. (p. 2)  Accordingly, the current study speaks to the need to consider teachers’ opportunities to participate in shaping the policies that guide their work. Like Ball (2003), I believe that if teachers are not meaningfully influencing policy-level discussions about what constitutes teachers’ work, then public schooling might be seen as under attack, or “terrorized” (p. 216). By the same token, given that B.C.’s School Act (B.C. Ministry of Education, 1989) charges teachers with “educat[ing] citizens who ... are motivated to participate actively in our democratic institutions” (p. D-92), this study begins with the assumption that teachers should be invested with the means and latitude to influence the scope and character of education reform initiatives—in other words, the work that they are responsible for.  3  My belief that teachers must have meaningful influence over the policies which shape their work is grounded in the awareness that it is teachers—not policy makers—who are solemnly entrusted with the responsibility of “enabl[ing] all learners to become literate, to develop their individual potential and to acquire the knowledge, skills and attitudes needed to contribute to a healthy, democratic and pluralistic society and a prosperous and sustainable economy” (B.C. Ministry of Education, 1996, p. C-13). To put it another way, I would argue that teachers cannot enable the development of “democratic and pluralistic” values when they are marginalized or excluded from the development of policies which constrain these very same values.  However, I should note the possibility of a false binary: (teachers = good) vs. (policy makers = bad). On one hand it is meaningful to ask whether or not a teacher-controlled policy making arena would necessarily be more democratic or equitable. Likewise, it is inevitably the case that some teachers will benefit from less than democratic policies (e.g. teaching for private or elite prep schools), and there are certainly many teachers who independently and actively promote 21CL. On the other hand, it is also the case that policy makers may adopt and affirm less popular policy agendas, and may even take principled stands in resisting the passage and imposition of education policies. A consequence of this is that neither teachers nor policy makers can be simplified as saviors or despots.  This study identifies the discourses embedded within A Vision for 21st Century Education in order to foreground the conceptualization of teachers’ work being privileged. In part, this emphasis on identifying and analyzing constructions of ‘good teachers’ and ‘good teaching’ is grounded in the belief that policies play an integral role in circumscribing teachers’ work. Even so, policies and their “meanings are indeterminate, contingent, paradoxical, contradictory, and disorienting (often deliberately)” (Webb and Gulson, 2012, p. 92).  Moreover, so long as the meanings of policies are taken for granted, “epistemological dry rot” sets in, and policy makers’ realities and values are privileged over the values of teachers and an ethics of teaching (Ball, 2006a, pp. 44-45). In this sense, the study attempts to inform and provoke discussions of education policy development and implementation by mapping the discursive framing of teachers’ work.  4  Like Ball (2003), I believe there is reason to view teachers’ work as under attack—a site of contestation in a protracted “war of attrition” (Steeves, 2012, p. 94). Although teachers’ work has a long and sustained history of being vulnerable to the imposition of policies, there is a growing awareness that these processes are intensifying. Hill (2006) linked this intensification with a confluence of neoliberal and neoconservative ideologies, and drew attention to how reforms are “justified in different countries through campaigns of vilification against public service workers such as teachers and education officials” (p. 16). In like manner, Apple (2001) highlighted the fact that “teachers [are] experienc[ing] considerably heavier work loads and ever escalating demands for accountability, a never ending schedule of meetings, and in many cases a growing scarcity of resources both emotional and physical” (p. 417). Against this backdrop, this study—in its own small way—attempts to stymie the exclusion of teachers’ voices and values from the policy making arena. As a result, the research questions guiding this study are: (i) How does A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010) discursively frame the ‘problems’ which justify the need for 21st-century learning? (ii) How is teachers’ work discursively circumscribed within A Vision for 21st Century Education? (iii) What rhetorical strategies does A Vision for 21st Century Education use in its (re-) construction of teachers’ work as a relay for 21st-century skills? 1.3 Standpoint and orientation  This study can be characterized as privileging a critical approach to policy analysis. By that I mean that my inquiry is “guided by a commitment to go beyond the surface realities” and “aims to identify those elements which have the power to change things” (Troyna, 1994, p. 72). More succinctly, critical approaches to education policy analysis are often described as having a “commitment to try to have an impact on education policy and to support education reforms that lead to a more equal and less coercive society” (Simons, Olssen, and Peters, 2009, p. 24). As a general rule, critical approaches to policy analysis begin with the understanding that “policies cannot be divorced from interests, from conflict, from domination or from justice” (Ball, 1990b, p. 3). For critical policy analysts, then, policies  5 are “both systems of values and symbolic systems; ways of representing, accounting for and legitimating political decisions” (Ball, 1998, p. 124). This implies that critical policy analysis through discourse analysis must investigate the ways in which key terms are used, and the extent to which particular policies and practices are consistent with our moral vision for education.  The particular version of  ‘moral order’ being privileged in this study is one where teachers are affirmed as professionals and public education is acknowledged as an incubator for democratic ideas and practices. For instance, in my literature review I note that an ever-expanding body of research addresses the changing horizons of professionalism insofar as it applies to teachers and democracy (e.g. Hall and Schulz, 2003; Webb, 2007). Although accounts vary, there is a growing awareness that teachers’ professionalism is in competition with the values of policy makers (Beck, 2008), vulnerable to neoliberal re-organization schemes (Webb, Briscoe, and Mussman, 2009), and under threat of privatization (Ball, 2007). From within this milieu, this study analyzes the horizons of teachers’ work within a single version of the 21CL policy agenda; one which has been proposed as a ‘solution’ to the ‘problem’2 of public education in B.C.  Rizvi and Lingard (2010) argue that “questions of who is doing the policy analysis and for what purposes, and within what context, are clearly relevant in determining the approach to be taken to policy analysis” (p. 46). My motivation to engage 21CL policy flows out of my experiences as a teacher in secondary schools in B.C. On one hand, as a practicing teacher I am interested in how policies shape the horizons of the possible inside classrooms. And on the other hand, as someone sympathetic to Giroux’s (1988) notion of teachers as intellectuals, I believe that the intellectual’s role is no longer to place himself [sic] ‘somewhat ahead and to the side’ in order to express the stifled truth of the collectivity; rather, it is to struggle against the forms of power that transform him into its object and instrument in the sphere of ‘knowledge,’ ‘truth,’ ‘consciousness,’ and ‘discourse.’ (Deleuze and Foucault, 1977, pp. 207-208)  6 2 Then again, it is always possible—as Marcel Duchamp famously said—that “there is no solution because there is no problem” (Duchamp, as cited in Janis and Janis, 1945, p. 24).  For my part, I struggle with the realization that my life as a teacher is inextricable from the policies that influence my work. I believe that teachers are at the heart of democracy, and that teachers’ work is the fuel with which the future will be built—or burned. In this sense, the outcomes of teachers’ work are linked with the hope for a brighter future for all. Thus, I am interested in struggling against forms of power that are embedded within policies that re-inscribe teachers’ work within narrowly defined economic values, and that contribute to (mis)understandings of teachers as mere instruments for relaying State-approved curricula.  More concretely, my inquiry into 21CL in B.C. stems from professional and personal interest: personal in that as a teacher I am implicated as a target and vehicle of 21st-century education policy, and professional in the sense that as a teacher I occupy the role of public intellectual and “have a significant ongoing role to play in encouraging others to reinterpret the world, to think critically, to engage in debate and dialogue, and to reconsider seriously a wider range of social and economic alternatives” (Roberts, 2007, p. 492, emphasis in original). In particular, I hope that this study will inform policy makers about the complexities of writing teachers’ work into policy, and remind teachers of their responsibility to engage with policy explicitly and critically. 1.4 Methodology  In order to analyze the discourses that frame teachers’ work as a relay for 21CL in B.C., I focus my inquiry on a single policy text and infuse my critical policy analysis with content analysis and discourse analysis. Content analysis is a “mode of textual analysis [that may be] characterized by a concern with being ... quantitative” (Hardy, Harley, and Phillips, 2004, p. 20). Discourse analysis aims to “uncover how language works to construct meanings that signify people, objects, and events in the world in specific ways” (Rogers et al., 2005, p. 408). Moreover, discourse analysis “is a valuable heuristic for mapping policy discourses in education because it focuses on the ways social relations, identity, knowledge, and power are constructed, articulated, and positioned when attempting change for political ends” (Webb, 2011, p. 741). As a result, a combination of content and discourse analysis is particularly suited to the current study, which is specifically interested in the discursive (re-)construction of teachers’  7 work within a policy text. While pursuing these dimensions of analysis, I hope to simultaneously illustrate the importance of accommodating an affirmative view of teachers’ work within policy texts, and highlight the accessibility of content and discourse analysis as a functional vehicle for critical policy analysis. 1.5 Purpose and significance of study  The significance of the study unfolds across three superimposed planes: the advance of theory, method, and practice. With regard to theory, the study contributes to ongoing debates over the character, structure, and appropriateness of 21st-century-themed education reform initiatives. Whereas analyses of 21CL have typically focused on clarifying 21st-century skills (Jenson, Taylor, and Fisher, 2010), or operationalizing the use of technology in schools (Peat and Allen, 2009), my study examines the notion of ‘good teaching’ that is embedded within 21CL policy. This particular element has not yet been theorized within the scholarly literature on 21CL. Finally, it is hoped that the present study will address gaps in understanding and analysis of local uptakes of global policy initiatives.  As such, another objective for my inquiry is to offer methodological resources which can be used to de-parochialize (Popkewitz and Rizvi, 2009) policy analysis. This is significant, given that “parochialism with regard to one’s own discipline while facing [globalization] results in an impoverished critical policy orientation” (Simons, Olssen, and Peters, 2009, p. 38). More concretely, given that “education policy must be contextualized both nationally and globally as a transformative discourse” (Olssen, Codd, and O’Neill, 2004, p. 3), the analysis of education policies requires forms of investigation that are “sensitive to both national differences and global commonalities” (Lingard and Rawolle, 2009, p. 205). Although I will situate discourse analysis as a means of localizing the global, it is equally productive to use discourse analysis to globalize the local. In other words, discourse analysis is useful for analyzing any particular text: it works whether it is applied up or down, right or left, and this flexibility makes it a formidable component of any policy analysis.  At the level of practice, this study informs education policy debates and the research practices of policy scholars. Not only will the study’s analysis have the opportunity to advance education policy debates in B.C. by foregrounding the version of teachers’ work that is naturalized by A Vision for 21st  8 Century Education, but—above all else—the study will urge policymakers in B.C. to (re-)conceptualize teachers’ work in relation to—and as participants in—policy development.  Although the primary focus of this study is British Columbia’s engagement with 21CL, the transnational breadth of the 21st-century policy agenda suggests that the study will have significance far beyond B.C. In particular, the study contributes to an ongoing dialogue with educational researchers, policy makers, teachers and administrators in the U.K., U.S., and elsewhere about teachers’ roles in policy-making. Those who see education as encompassing values that are grounded in philosophical inquiry and/or collective responsibility will particularly appreciate the study’s privileging of the importance of teachers’ work. In short, the study offers a timely and novel analysis of the 21st-century policy agenda, and should meaningfully engage a wide readership concerned with teachers’ (non-) engagement with education policy.  The following study is organized into six chapters. After Chapter 1’s general introduction, in Chapter 2 I consider policy as a concept and review research literature regarding how policies interact with the lives of teachers. The third chapter outlines the methodological features of my inquiry into 21CL. In Chapter 4 I analyze the genre of A Vision for 21st Century Education to get a sense of the text’s idea of ‘good teaching’; and in Chapter 5 I continue my analysis by examining the how the text’s style articulates a particular idea of ‘good teacher.’ To conclude I historicize A Vision for 21st Century Education’s “transformation” of teachers’ work, summarize the study’s findings, and make suggestions for researchers and policy makers.  9 Chapter 2 Theoretical framework and literature review: Policy and teachers I want to encourage a wide range of people to become involved in research in education policy. I want to remove ‘policy’ from its pedestal, and make it accessible to the wider community, both as a subject of study and a possible research area. In doing this I am arguing—implicitly and explicitly—that policy is to be found everywhere in education, and not just at the level of central government, and that there is virtue in engaging with policy in this way, because it contributes to a democratic project in education. (Ozga, 2000, p. 2) In order to situate A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010) as a text for analysis, this chapter discusses what policy is and what policy does—by drawing upon Foucault’s ideas of power and discourse. Throughout the chapter I discuss an erosion of authority that teachers have experienced through the discourses of learnification (Biesta, 2009b) and accountability—or accountingization (Thompson and Cook, 2012). Finally, I identify two prevalent conceptions of teachers and their work— technicians and democratic agents—in policy texts, and conclude by outlining some demonstrable effects of policies on teachers’ lives. 2.1 Policy as Mirror of Erised  Early on in Harry Potter’s journey through seven books, eight movies, and international acclaim, he came across an enchanting magical object called the “Mirror of Erised.” When looking into the mirror, Harry—an orphan who longed to experience the comforts of family—saw exactly what he wished for: a loving mother and father standing right beside him. But the mirror reflected shadows, and Harry was mystified by the mirror until his mentor, Professor Dumbledore, intervened: "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head. "Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?" Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..." "Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.” (Rowling, 1997, p. 213)  10 I would like to suggest that policy is like the Mirror of Erised: What is revealed depends on what is desired. For policy makers, policy may represent the embodiment of ‘common sense’ and consensus, a way to deal with contestation—a ‘solution’ to a ‘problem.’ On the other hand, policy scholars, teachers, and/or the public can gaze into the same mirror and see an altogether different landscape. That is not to say that policy reflects or mirrors desires—rather, like the Mirror of Erised, policy is better understood as distorted and refracted by desire. In other words, policy cannot be reified or reduced to essential understandings because it is inextricably filtered through the desires of those who gaze upon it.  On a basic level policy may be linked with particular texts, such as the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the Geneva Accords, or a no trespassing sign. In this sense policy can be understood as “textual interventions into practice” (Ball, 2006a, p. 46). However, the production of the text itself is not one static moment, but a process. Texts themselves are the products of compromises and power struggles. They have interpretational and representational history and a ‘policy sediment’ builds up around them, which in effect means that there are never really any completely ‘new’ policies. (Lall, 2007, p. 5) This provides a context within which policy can be understood as “both text and action, words and deeds, [as] what is enacted as well as what is intended” (Ball, 1994, p. 10).  Ball’s definition of policy combines and extends classic descriptions of policy—such as Kogan (1975), who saw policy as “statements of prescriptive intent” (p. 55); and Easton (1953), who argued that policy making is the “authoritative allocation of values” (p. 129)—with an awareness that “policies cannot be divorced from interests, from conflict, from domination or from justice” (Ball, 1990, p. 3). At a minimum, this suggests that policies might be understood as instruments of power that are inextricably linked with resistance; and this is particularly the case in public education, where the starting point has to be the recognition that there are two distinct logics at work. One is a logic of education, based on social and individual needs, and notions of equality and democracy. The other is a logic of business, whose bottom line is profit. Not everything business wants to do is incompatible with educational interests. But the logic of business is incompatible with the logic of education. (Hatcher, 2001, p. 58, emphasis added)  11 Phrased differently, education policy is like Dumbledore’s Mirror of Erised: Some look into the mirror and see a vehicle for achieving their desire, and others look into the same mirror and draw reason to resist and subvert. 2.2 Policy, power, and discourse  Policies are, in a certain sense, condensations of power, and I find Foucault’s ideas especially helpful for theorizing at this level. For Foucault, power is less a thing to be discovered or acquired than a set of relations, an anonymous force which simultaneously circulates through and produces bodies. That is to say, Foucault’s (1978) idea of power is generative, and “is the name we give to a complex strategic situation in a particular society” (p. 93). Foucault (1977a) rejected monolithic approaches which conceptualize power as a vehicle for domination and/or empowerment: We must cease once and for all to describe the effects of power in negative terms: it ‘excludes,’ it ‘represses,’ it ‘censors,’ it ‘abstracts,’ it ‘masks,’ it ‘conceals.’ In fact, power produces; it produces reality; it produces domains of objects and rituals of truth. The individual and the knowledge that may be gained of him [sic] belong to this production. (p. 194) Foucault  (1977b) argued that power is best understood as a network of relationships that are regulated by “micro-physics” (p. 26), and less something to be possessed than strategized. Phrased more concretely, Foucault suggested that the effects of power are attributed not to ‘appropriation,’ but to dispositions, manoeuvers, tactics, techniques, functionings; that one should decipher in it a network of relations constantly in tension, in activity ... that one should take as its model a perpetual battle rather than a contract regulating a transaction or the conquest of a territory. (p. 26) When applied in policy analysis, Foucault’s notion of power draws attention to the day-to-day lived experiences and micro-political realities of teachers. In essence, Foucault’s conceptualization of power allows us to see teachers’ work as a site of contestation, with policies attempting to regulate the ‘truth’ of ‘good teaching.’  12  I am also in agreement with Ball’s (1990a) suggestion that Foucault offers conceptual resources for theorizing how policies act as tactics or techniques of power vis-à-vis teachers’ work. In particular, Foucault’s conceptualization of discourse offers a framework for understanding how policies capture flows and demarcate the horizons of the possible. If it is accepted that teachers’ work is a site of “perpetual battle,” then discourse “is the thing for which and by which there is struggle, discourse is the power which is to be seized” (Foucault, 1981, p. 488).  To make this point more apparent, it is worth noting that the discourse of ‘good teaching’ has evolved from a situation where teachers in B.C. were once barred from voting (Elections B.C., n.d), to a modern context where they may be disciplined for their sexual orientation. For instance, a teacher at a private school was fired after being identified as a lesbian (CTV News, 2010). Alternatively, teachers in B.C. now risk losing their jobs for expressing displeasure with provincial policies by wearing a pin or an arm band (CBC News, 2011), or for displaying passages from popular children’s books (West, 2012).  As understood by Foucault (1977b), discursive practices may be “characterised by a delimitation of a field of objects, the definition of a legitimate perspective for the agent of knowledge, and the fixing of norms for the elaboration of concepts and theories” (p. 199). That is to say, for Foucault (1978) “discourses transmit and produce power; they reinforce it, but also undermine and expose it, render it fragile and make it possible to thwart” (p. 101). This is only possible because “each discourse undergoes constant change as new utterances are added to it” (Foucault, 1991, p. 54).  To reiterate, Foucault (1974) described discourses as “practices that systematically form the objects of which they speak ... Discourses are not about objects; they do not identify objects, they constitute them and in the practice of doing so conceal their own invention” (cited in Ball, 1990a, p. 2). As a result, discourses might be thought of as claims to truth and legitimacy, normalcy, and power. They render worlds (un)intelligible, constrain our grasp of the possible, and produce bodies, awarenesses, and experiences. At a very basic level, policy is a textual constructor of a discursive field of intelligibility which encompasses ‘problems,’ ‘solutions,’ ‘appropriate resources,’ and ‘ideal roles.’ This suggests that “the effect of policy is primarily discursive, it changes the possibilities we have for thinking ‘otherwise,’ thus it limits our responses to change, and leads us to misunderstand what policy is by misunderstanding  13 what it does” (Ball, 2006a, p. 49). For these reasons, I am particularly interested in the ways ‘good teaching’ and ‘good teachers’ are discursively constructed in policy texts—and 21CL. 2.3 Analyzing policy  Ball (2006a) offered up a ‘toolbox’ of concepts for thinking about policy. Beginning at a pragmatic level, Ball suggested that policies can be understood as texts, or representations which are encoded in complex ways (via struggles, compromises, authoritative public interpretations and reinterpretations), and decoded in complex ways (via actor’s interpretations and meanings in relation to their history, experience, skills, resources, and context). (p. 44) Ball (2006a) considered policies less as textual representations of ‘consensus’ than as “cannibalised products of multiple (but circumscribed influences and agendas)” (p. 45). On this basis, Ball insisted that the policy making process must be recognized as a site of continual struggle where “only certain influences and agendas are recognized as legitimate” (p. 45).  A consequence of seeing policy making as a site of continual struggle is that policy texts become recognizable as “heteroglossic in character, discursively suturing together differing interests to achieve apparent consensus and legitimacy” (Simons, Olssen and Peters, 2009, p. 23).3 Or, as described by Webb (2010), “policy might best be thought of as a set of intentions, rather than any sort of full-fledged articulation of solutions to problems” (cited in Campbell, 2010, p. 2). By adopting these perspectives on policy, the veneer of ‘policy as consensus’ may be seen as a rhetorical ploy, and conflict and contestation can come to the fore. This is particularly significant in the field of education policy, where policies are typically framed as the products of ‘broad consensus,’ and teachers’ fidelity in implementation is assumed to be achievable.4  14 3 Bakhtin (1981) described heteroglossy as the coexistence of distinct varieties within languages, or “another's speech in another's language, serving to express authorial intentions but in a refracted way” (p. 324). In simpler terms, heteroglossy assumes that combinations of existing discourses merge to construct texts. 4 It should also be noted, however, that policies can be developed, imposed, and resisted for strategic reasons, and not all policy is legitimated by an appeal to consensus. What I mean to emphasize here is that—as with the Mirror of Erised—desire is inextricable from policies, and this necessarily makes policy resistant to any monolithic understanding.  Traditional approaches to studying policy consider policies as institutionally allocated values. This may come in the form of prescriptive outlines of expectations, ameliorative attempts to right some wrong, or carnivalesque performances of policy as spectacle. However, when considering teachers, policies are best situated within contexts which are ad hoc, indeterminate, and local (Ball, Maguire and Braun, 2012). As a result, teachers must interpret and alter policies in accordance with perceived appropriateness, and thereby engage in policy making whether they know it or not. On occasion, this can lead teachers into problematic relationships with policy. Apple (1983), for example, argued that policies may lead teachers to become unwitting “technocrats.” These “technocratic” teachers, according to Apple, simultaneously act as relays for delivering centrally defined pre-packaged curricula and for naturalizing conservative values which may contradict consciously held and/or professional values.  At the same time, I agree with Ball’s (2006a) suggestion that it is dangerous to reify policy, as teachers’ enactments of policies are subject to a panoply of mitigating influences. For instance, teachers may be more or less unaware of what policies ask of them, misinterpret what policies ask of them, or (un-)intentionally subvert the implementation of policies for any number of reasons (D. Ball, 1990; Cohen, 1990). More importantly, reifying policy obfuscates the relationship between policy, teachers’ work, and a constrained field of possibility.  In this sense, teachers are uneven targets of or vehicles for education policies. This is made obvious by the fact that some teachers stay abreast of relevant political developments beyond the walls of their school, but not all teachers are similarly inclined. And even if teachers make a habit of reading policy texts, desire refracts their gaze and ensures that there is no singular understanding of any given policy. By the same token, even if teachers read policy texts, there is no reliable means of insuring buy-in. The teacher who considers adding a point or two to a final mark so that a student can pass a class—or get an A—is a classic and morally ambiguous example of teachers’ ability to subvert policies. The coach who nudges the teacher to offer an alternate exam schedule for athletes is another. In emphasizing the slippages between text and implementation, Ball (2006a) drew attention to the fact that “policies do not normally tell you what to do, they create circumstances in which the range of options available in deciding what to do are narrowed or changed or particular goals or outcomes are set” (p. 46).  15 2.4: Teachers, policy, and a politics of authority  I think it is meaningful to ask whether or not there may be a general tendency among teachers and policy makers to be naturalized into favoring divergent values and discourses of ‘good teaching.’ I believe it is possible that this imbalance may cultivate a gap in authority, and aggravate tensions between teachers and policy makers. According to Mullen (2010), many policy makers believe that they know the appropriate outcomes of teachers’ work better than teachers do, and that “teachers should be seen and not heard” (p. 1). For instance, in 1972 UNESCO’s International Commission on the Development of Education described the tension between legislative and teachers’ authority in the following way: The aim appears to be to act on teachers—for them, possibly, but rarely with them. This technocratic paternalism is based on distrust and evokes distrust in return. Teachers, on the whole, are not against reforms as much as they are offended at the way they are presented to them, not to mention imposed on them. (Faure et al., 1972, p. 181, emphasis in original)  Although much has changed in the intervening years since 1972, the tendency for policy makers to impose ‘solutions’ onto teachers has continued—and maybe even intensified. In my literature review I found two particular discourses that have been handed to teachers that erode teachers’ authority over their work: learnification and accountingization. 2.4.1 Learnification  Biesta (2009b) described the discourse of learnification as “the translation of everything there is to say about education in terms of learning and learners” (p. 3). Biesta argued that learning is an “individualistic concept,” whereas the concept of education “always implies a relationship: someone educating someone else and the person educating thus having a certain sense of what the purpose of his or her activities is” (p. 6). To further distinguish between learning and education, Biesta added that “one could say that the general aim of educational activities is that people will learn from them. But that doesn’t make education into learning; it simply says that learning is the intended outcome of educational processes and practices” (p. 3).  16  Biesta maintained that learning is a “process term,” which is to say that it “denotes processes and activities but is open—if not empty—with regard to content and direction” (p. 6); and suggested that a consequence of learnification is that it becomes “difficult to articulate the fact that education is about relationships, and more specifically about relationships between teachers and students” (p. 3). According to Biesta, “this helps to explain why the rise of the new language of learning has made it more difficult to ask questions about content, purpose and direction of education” (p. 6). On these grounds, Biesta acknowledged merit in attending to learners and the event of learning, but insisted that “we shouldn’t underestimate the ways in which language structures possible ways of thinking, doing and reasoning to the detriment of other ways of thinking, doing and reasoning” (p. 5).  From here, learnification can be linked with what Biesta (2007) calls a ‘democratic deficit’ within education. Essentially, what I mean to suggest is that the discourse of learnification may be so individually centered on and within students that it erases the democratic values that guide teachers’ work. Indeed, from within this frame teachers might reasonably be replaced with robots (Demetriou, 2009) or holograms (BBC News, 2000)—so long as ‘learning’ is achieved. In other words, learnification may be a discourse which “threatens to replace professional judgement and the wider democratic deliberation about the aims and ends and the conduct of education” (Biesta, 2007, pp. 492-493). One of the primary purposes of this research study is to consider this dilemma in relation to 21CL in B.C. 2.4.2 Accountingization  Another example of the distance between legislative and teachers’ authority can be found in policies which push for accountability. A wide array of research literature has noted that assessment- driven accountability policies demoralize teachers (McNeil, 2000), de-professionalize teachers’ work (Sachs, 2001), compound problems with teacher retention (National Commission on Teaching and America’s Future, 2003), produce economic relationships between policy actors and make democratic relationships difficult if not impossible to establish (Biesta, 2004), perpetuate racist understandings among “language-minority students” (Reyes and Rorrer, 2001), constrain the consciousness and creativity  17 of students within a logic of commodification (De Lissovoy and McLaren, 2003), and increase dropout rates for marginalized students (Whitford and Jones, 2000).   Webb (2005) described accountability as a discursive system of surveillance which attempts to increase the visibility of teachers’ work. In his case study of accountability practices in an elementary school, Webb found that contemporary practices of accountability in public education could be seen as “corrosive” and linked with a “model of surveillance designed to threaten and punish educators” (p. 190). This corrosiveness is aggravated by the fact that “teachers [may not be] aware of the extent to which their professional discretion [is] being eroded” (p. 204). Instead, Webb found that “surveillance provided administrators ways to coerce teachers” (p. 194) into becoming “agents of the external accountability system, and not self-governing agents of their own expectations” (p. 204). Thus, the discourse of accountability broadly consists of pre-defined problems (e.g. rendering teachers’ work measurable), externally imposed solutions (e.g. data surveillance), regulated resources (e.g. push for economization and efficiency), and prescribed roles (e.g. teachers as paranoid and self-disciplining).  When accountability is foregrounded as the basis of ‘good teaching,’ there is a ratcheting-up of tension between legislative and teachers’ authority which can culminate in the development of “audit cultures” (Apple, 2007). Audit cultures are solely concerned with measuring performance, and provide a means of legitimating power and policy. In other words, audit cultures may be understood as discursive formations which work in tandem with the discourse of learnification, and singularly and unproblematically privilege the values of policy makers. Thompson and Cook (2012) considered the logics of teaching in audit cultures. They suggested that “teachers justify and make sense of what they do through a concept[ion] of ‘good teaching’ and education policymakers justify and make sense of what they do through another concept[ion] of ‘good teaching’” (p. 4). Moreover, the authors argued that the gap between these competing logics of practice changes ‘good teaching’ from something that can be identified in non-statistical ways, such as student responsiveness, depth of understanding of key concepts and student engagement, to one that can be measured by data points generated through student performance in literacy and numeracy testing. The teacher is encouraged by this event to turn their face away from the student, irrevocably altering the  18 series ‘good teaching’ as caring for students that has been part of the series ‘good teaching’ since Plato forced his students out of the cave and into the light. (p. 12)5  Thompson and Cook (2012) suggested that the increasing emphasis on ‘good teaching’ as auditable means that education policies are incrementally reconceptualizing good teaching as accountingization. From within this frame of reference, only that which is measurable is important. Clarke (2012) argues that the basis for this (re-)conceptualization lies in “fantasies centered on illusory harmonization of equality with excellence (the latter achieved through markets, managerialism, and performativity), along with horrific fantasies of economic decline” (as cited in Thompson and Cook, 2012, p. 3). More provocatively, Thompson and Cook insist that education policies which have re- conceptualized teachers’ work as auditable have “done little more than amplify the inequities and inequalities experienced in schools,” particularly from the perspective of the most disadvantaged (p. 3).  To sum up, the discourse of learnification reduces teachers’ work to a relay for learning, and the discourse of accountingization essentializes teachers’ work as singularly driven by economic values. Generally speaking, my review of the literature found that these discourses are common and prominent ‘truths’ which education policies use to frame the contested idea of ‘good teaching.’ It is possible that policies which articulate these discourses may contribute to a “rapid erosion of democratically-determined collective values and institutions” (Leys, 2001, p. 4), lead teachers to feel conflicted and de-moralized, and may provide a partial basis for understanding the low rates of job satisfaction among teachers (Ferguson, Frost, and Hall, 2012). 2.5 Teacher bodies: Being written into competing discourses  By and large, education policies may be said to construct and impose specific thematic identities and values on teachers. Among the more common of these thematic identities that I found during my review of the literature are constructions of teachers as technicians and democratic agents. When teachers are constructed as technicians, they are asked to “function like a conduit, channeling the flow of  19 5 By ‘series,’ Thompson and Cook (2012) mean “a particular unfolding of change and continuity in schools and schooling” (p. 1) that “expresses a sense, or a logic of sense, which changes over time” (p. 5). information from one end of the educational spectrum (i.e., the expert) to the other (i.e., the learner) without significantly altering the content of information” (Kumaravadivelu, 2003, p. 8). Alternatively, teachers may be constructed as democratic agents, in which case their professional responsibility becomes a matter of upholding the “principle of nonrepression by cultivating the capacity for democratic deliberation” (Gutmann, 1999, p. 76). In elaborating on the “principle of nonrepression,” Guttmann argues that “nonrepression obligates teachers—at the same time as it authorizes them—to further democratic education by supporting intellectual and emotional preconditions for democratic deliberation among future generations of citizens” (p. 76).6 Be that as it may, it should be apparent that different education policies privilege different thematizations of teachers and teachers’ work.  These two thematizations embody specific discourses of the ‘good teacher’ and ‘good teaching,’ and teachers are—in a certain manner of speaking—effects of these policies. Here I do not mean to suggest a deterministic relationship between policies and teachers, or that teachers are locked in some fatalistic subjugation beneath policies. Rather, what I mean to emphasize is that education policies construct the intelligible, and demarcate the horizons of ‘good’ and ‘(in)adequate’ teaching. That is to say, policies construct versions of teachers and their work, and these constructions produce particular effects.  For instance, given that ‘good teachers’ are constructed within and compelled into relationships with policies, relationships between policy actors can become strained when teachers are ostracized from meaningful control over their work. This means that a push towards learnification and accountingization may lead relationships between policy actors to become less trusting and more stressful. For example, Nias (1996) introduced a special edition of the Cambridge Journal of Education—devoted to the topic of teacher emotions—by stating that:  20 6 In this study I have elected to focus on Gutmann’s (1999) construction of teachers and education policy—which emphasizes the importance of democratic deliberation—because I believe it offers a strong point of contrast with a politics of authority in which teachers are discursively constructed as mere objects and/or vehicles for policy. Even so, Gutmann is by no means the only alternative to a technical approach to teachers’ work. Additional thematic constructions of teachers’ work waiting to be explored within and through education policies include teachers as (i) socratic citizens—moderately alienated citizens that are critical in orientation and dissident in practice (Villa, 2001); (ii) micro-political assemblages that “act politically in schools out of strong beliefs about the welfare of students” (Webb, 2009, p. 14); and as (iii) defenders of democracy—serving “public interests, not the interests of private power and privilege” (Ross, 2004, p. xv), etc. teachers’ most extreme and negative feelings appear when they talk about their colleagues, the structures of schooling or the effect of changing educational policies upon them ... the most intensive, hostile and deeply disturbing emotions described in these articles came not from encounters with pupils or students, but with other adults, particularly colleagues, parents, school governors and inspectors. (p. 300)  Building on this point, Ingersoll (1996) compiled and analyzed data on teachers from across the U.S. and found that “teachers who have little power are less able to get things done and have less credibility. Students can more easily challenge or ignore them” (p. 172). Ingersoll concluded that “as teachers’ control over instructional activities in their classrooms increases, levels of student conflict decrease” (p. 169). Overall, Ingersoll found that “the strongest predictors by far of decreases in conflict among teachers and between teachers and principals are teachers’ autonomy and faculty influence over students’ socialization” (p. 171). At a minimum, Ingersoll drew attention to a potentially problematic relationship between teachers’ ability to control their work and the degree of conflict among teachers, students, and administrators.  From an altogether different but complementary angle, Ball (2006a) and Webb (2007) have argued that when teachers are confronted with or ostracized by policies that attempt to guide their work, they may fall victim to a “schizophrenia of values”—or feel squeezed into committing “epistemic suicide.” According to Ball (2006a), teachers experience a fragmentation or “schizophrenia of values” when their “commitment, judgment and authenticity ... are sacrificed for impression and performance” (p. 149). Although I might contest Ball’s somewhat indelicate use of “schizophrenia,” it seems to me as though the essence of his argument is sound: When policies are imposed on teachers there is a risk of ‘splitting’ teachers’ own judgements about ‘good teaching’ with the ‘rigors of performance.’ This point is echoed by Webb (2007), who reasons that teachers commit epistemic suicide “when their practices conform to the fabrications they use to refract surveillance of their practice” (p. 290). In other words, epistemic suicide can occur when teachers try to satisfy demands for learning and mistake their strategic, “seductive performances” (p. 290)—or “fabrications”—as ‘good teaching.’  21 Conclusion  In this chapter I outlined the study’s theoretical framework and contextualized what policy is and what policy does. I suggested that policy can be apprehended from multiple orientations and might be understood as analogous with Harry Potter’s Mirror of Erised (Rowling, 1997). I described policy as a condensation of power which attempts to define problems, solutions, resources, and roles and responsibilities. I drew from scholarly literature to illustrate two prevalent discourses that may be used to frame teachers and their work: learnification and accountingization. I also described how these discourses articulate particular understandings of ‘good teaching’ and noted how these discourses subsequently begin to articulate ‘good teacher’ as technician and/or democratic agent. Throughout the chapter an emphasis was given to the contexts which give rise to as well as the implications that follow-from a bi-furcation in authority over teachers’ work. In particular, I suggested that policies which aggravate or naturalize an asymmetrical authority over teachers’ work reduce teachers’ morale, increase teachers’ stress, and create a context in which high rates of burn-out are more or less unavoidable. Moreover, I reasoned that relationships among policy actors—teachers, students, administrators, policy makers—are likely to become characterized by mistrust and coercion when teachers are ostracized from meaningful control over their work.  Figure 1 (below) represents some of the relationships between teachers and the policies that frame teachers’ work. The desires of teachers and policy makers coalesce in policy, like Harry’s Mirror of Erised, and all who gaze into policy see a different image. For instance, policy makers may look into policy and see a common sense vehicle for defining roles and (re-)distributing resources in the attempt to solve problems. Teachers, in contrast, may look into the same policy and find constructions—idealized versions of teachers’ work—which may or may not conflict with their sense of ‘good teaching.’ If teachers lack meaningful control over these constructions, a vicious cycle of stress and fragmentation may begin. Having established these elements of policy and teachers’ work, I will now outline the methodological contours of the study.  22 Figure 1: Mapping policy and teachers’ work  23 Chapter 3  Methodology: Discourse analysis meets 21CL In this chapter I outline the procedural and methodological elements of my approach to researching A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010). To begin, I discuss and operationalize discourse vis-à-vis policy. I then introduce discourse analysis as a research methodology, and foreground the lexico- grammatical strategies adopted for this study. I also characterize the study’s approach to data—providing a backdrop for a ‘nuts-and-bolts’ narration of the methods used to collect data and my approach data analysis. To conclude, I consider and question the study’s potential for generalizability. 3.1 Anchoring policy as discourse  As discussed in Chapter 2, policy can be understood as vehicle for constructing a field of intelligibility which encompasses problems, solutions, resources, and the horizons of the possible. At this level the symmetry between policy and discourse is remarkable: Discourses are about what can be said and thought, but also about who can speak, when, and with what authority. Discourses embody meaning and social relationships, they constitute both subjectivity and power relations. Discourses are ‘practices that systematically form the objects of which they speak’ ... In so far as discourses are constituted by exclusions as well as inclusions, by what cannot as well as what can be said, they stand in antagonistic relationship to other discourses. (Ball, 1990a, p. 2) One might just as easily substitute policy for discourse within this passage, and it is doubtful that Ball would object. In fact, Ball has repeatedly and adamantly emphasized the need for theorizing discourses within education policies (e.g. 2006a and b).  By the same token, in recent years a wide array of scholarship has advanced discourse analysis as capable of enabling “profound debates about power, agency, the nature of subjectivity and contestation” (Wetherell, 2001, p. 27). For instance, discourse analysis has provided a means of theorizing the social construction of learning (Gee and Green, 1998), the discursive construction of apprenticeships (Rudolph, 1994), contemporary discourses of citizenship within curricula (Abowitz and Harnish, 2006),  24 processes embedded within early literacy training (Luke, 1992), and the suppression of dialogue in math classrooms (Wagner and Herbel-Eisenmann, 2008). More proximal to the current study, discourse analysis has been used to analyze a range of education policies—e.g. hegemony within the government- sponsored textbooks of Nepal (Upadhyaya et al., 2010), nationalism within the Smarter Scotland education policy agenda (Arnott and Ozga, 2010), exclusion within the inclusive education policy agenda in Cyprus (Liasidou, 2008), and teacher education and development policies in Latin America (Pini and Gorostiaga, 2008).  Cameron (2001) described discourse analysis as several things at once. It is a method for doing social research; it is a body of empirical knowledge about how talk and text are organized; it is the home of various theories about the nature and workings of human communication, and also of theories about the construction and reproduction of social reality. It is both about language and about life. (p. 17) In like manner, Taylor (2004) suggested that discourse analysis “aims to explore the relationships between discursive practices, events, and texts; and wider social and cultural structures, relations, and processes” (p. 435). Thus, it is the “combination of linguistic analysis with social analysis” which makes discourse analysis a particularly relevant methodology in the study of education policies, “because it allows a detailed investigation of the relationship of language to other social processes, and of how language works within power relations” (p. 436).  Nevertheless, it is important to acknowledge that there are multiple approaches to discourse analysis. Some emphasize text (Fairclough, 1992a) or images (Machin and Mayr, 2012), while others stress the importance of speech (Rudolph, 1994) or multi-modality (Iedema, 2003). Above and beyond these distinctions, some approaches provide the means to foreground and theorize power and agency (Blommaert and Bulcaen, 2000), or constructions of culture and identity (Barker and Galasi!ski, 2001) within education policies. In other words, different approaches to discourse analysis not only have different conceptions of data; they also have different conceptions of what data can be used for.   25 3.2 Managing data  In recognition of the fact that A Vision for 21st Century Education is the most comprehensive and situationally relevant example of 21CL advocacy in British Columbia, there are strong grounds for using it as the primary source of data within this study. Since my focus was on discursive constructions of teachers’ work, I required methods capable of rendering subtle elements of a policy text accessible and analyzable. Thus, my approach to policy analysis draws on discourse analysis to examine A Vision for 21st Century Education while focusing on (i) the framing of 21CL as an ‘answer’ to a ‘problem,’ (ii) the terms which construct teachers and their work, and (iii) the rhetorical strategies used to naturalize constructions of teachers and their work. 3.2.1 Data collection  Given that 21CL is a globalized—or scalar (Lingard and Rawolle, 2009)—policy agenda, it was necessary to complement my reading of A Vision for 21st Century Education with additional texts. To begin, I searched the Internet and academic databases—Academic Search Complete, EBSCO, Education Research Information Center, JSTOR—for literature on ‘21st-century education,’ ‘21st-century skills,’ and ‘21st-century learning.’ This search revealed an enormous and diverse array of literature which included hundreds of articles published in journals for science educators (Metz, 2011), teacher librarians (Loertscher, 2011), music teachers (Shuler, 2011), etc.—and confirmed that 21CL is an increasingly influential and thoroughly globalized policy agenda.  Beyond this first layer of literature, I acquired additional readings by using references from prior searches—i.e., bibliographic branching. The overall net effect of this secondary search was that I uncovered a background layer of literature which helped provide me with a sense of the depth and breadth of the 21CL policy agenda. I then reviewed and annotated this collection of literature and policy texts. The category of texts related to teachers became an important source of data for this study. This included  26 texts from governments, education reform initiatives, white7 and grey8 papers, as well as media announcements and blog posts. This collection of texts included PowerPoint slides and publicity material from workshops and presentations which featured 21CL. I also searched for and acquired texts which operationalized 21CL for teachers and the ‘casual’ reader. For the most part 21CL is conveyed through policy documents, but there is also a burgeoning market which supplies 21CL-themed curriculum materials. Although I collected a sampling of 21CL-themed curricular materials, I attempted to delimit my study by focusing on 21CL policy. All told, this process of collecting suitable materials resulted in a collection of roughly 325 texts that discussed, critiqued, and otherwise analyzed 21CL since 1979.  As a means of organizing this collection of 21CL-related literature into a resource for cross- referencing texts and themes, I used binders to organize texts. For ease of access, I used these binders to organize my materials according to geography—i.e., provincial (British Columbia), national (Canada), and global (OECD, UNESCO, etc.).  Having compiled a large body of 21CL texts, I created a searchable database using Numbers/ iWork on a Macintosh computer. This index included bibliographic details, a basic ‘shorthand’ that I developed while reviewing texts, and key ideas from my literature review and Figure 1. For instance, I used separate fields to make note of references that drew on economic values, as well as those texts that emphasized 21CL in relation to consensus, learnification, accountingization, ‘good teaching,’ etc. These basic descriptions helped summarize a large body of texts, and provided a means with which new links and connections could emerge. For example, the Partnership for 21st Century Skills is frequently cited as a ‘baseline’ version of 21CL, and by searching my database for <P21> I was able to stitch together linkages between versions of 21CL which might not otherwise have been readily apparent. With so many different competing versions of 21st-century skills, a searchable index provided a means for mapping (dis-)connections between approaches to 21CL. In particular, the index—partial as it was—made it  27 7 White papers are “used as a means of presenting government policy preferences prior to the introduction of legislation. . . . The publication of a white paper serves to test the climate of public opinion regarding a controversial policy issue and enables the government to gauge its probable impact” (Chapin and Deneau, 1978, p. 33). 8 Grey literature refers to “document types produced on all levels of government, academics, business and industry in print and electronic formats that are protected by intellectual property rights, of sufficient quality to be collected and preserved by library holdings or institutional repositories, but not controlled by commercial publishers i.e., where publishing is not the primary activity of the producing body” (Schöpfel, 2010, p. 2). possible to identify the prevalence of approaches to 21CL that articulate a vision of ‘good teaching’ and ‘good teachers’ premised on economic values. I found that a searchable index was useful in rendering a maze of texts more navigable and accessible to cross-referencing.  I needed to give care to finding some way to look between and within sentences to trace the themes that were used in A Vision for 21st Century Education. This was necessary because—as noted by Foucault (1978)—power is not monolithic but is articulated by a “general matrix” that “comes from below” (p. 94). As a means of addressing this concern, I relied on redundancy and annotations of various sorts. For instance, I printed and read a copy of A Vision for 21st Century Education, making notes and responses as I read. Then I printed another copy. For the second read I traced who—or what—was invested with agency, and underlined modal verbs—e.g. can, might, will. From this I generated a list and analyzed the patterns of modalization used in the text. After printing additional copies, I read and made notes while focusing on constructions of teachers, the justifications for change, and the content and scope of proposed change. By focusing my gaze and adding this re-iterative layer to my analysis, I hoped to reinforce the study’s validity, and make my analysis methodical yet open to emergent aspects of the text. I should also add that the process of inquiry and analysis was a collaborative effort. In particular, my research committee served as a resource for interpreting and understanding the themes I identified within the text. They also provided a means of vetting ideas, and insured that my analysis was substantive and defensible. 3.3 Data and data analysis  Following Fairclough (1992b) and van Dijk (1988), I have used content analysis and critical discourse analysis as “complementary” forms of analysis rather than treating these forms as incommensurate methods (Fairclough, 1992b, p. 194). In this study, I have used word clouds as the primary vehicle to identify high-frequency content (e.g. the word “learning”) and high-frequency modalities (e.g. “should”), and placed this content analysis within an additional discourse analysis that examines how this content is used within A Vision for 21st Century Education to position teachers and their work. In this sense, I share a “pluralist” position with regard to both content analysis and discourse  28 analysis that recognizes that these two methods “can be seen as complementary and even mutually supportive in the exploration of social reality” (Hardy, Harley, and Phillips, 2004, p. 19). Thus, my results are reliable or representative "to the degree that they are understandable and plausible to others" by virtue of my analysis and, again, I am making no claims about the nature of A Vision for 21st Century Education other than the ways this particular document uses language to position and frame teachers and their work (Hardy, Harley, and Phillips, 2004, p. 21).  My analytic process began with an attempt to identify and theorize the particular linguistic, semiotic, and ‘interdiscursive’ features embedded within A Vision for 21st Century Education. A text’s linguistic features lie at the surface, and include grammar and punctuation. This level of analysis focuses on basic aspects of language use. In contrast, a semiotic analysis calls for depth and breadth, and asks how particular ideas are represented. Finally, an interdiscursive analysis attempts to not only consider how and where discourses leak or bleed into a text, but also illustrates a text’s dependence on or evocation of discourses which are external to it.  Pulling the three elements together, I conducted a textual analysis to focus on the terms and relationships used in constructing an idealized vision of the 21st-century teacher. In essence, this consisted of a nuanced linguistic analysis of the semantic, grammatical, and lexical choices embedded within the text. Specifically, I followed Webb (2011) in adapting the work of Fairclough to examine how policy texts use “assumptions; implications; classifications; contradictions; values; inferences; metaphors; hyperbole; passive voice; repetition; choice of vocabulary; and wordplay” (p. 741). In contrast with Webb, however, I did not focus on discursive constructions of power or the regulation of knowledge. Instead, I used these linguistic ‘markers’ to analyze a policy text for constructions of teachers and teachers’ work.  Linguistic, semiotic, and interdiscursive data was analyzed with attention to understanding how A Vision for 21st Century Education conceptualized teachers’ work. In particular, I was interested in studying the articulations of what ought to be teachers’ goals and values, as well as the recommendations for ‘good teaching’ advanced by A Vision for 21st Century Education. As well, I identified visual and semiotic cues (e.g. text in bold or italics, font), and outlined the organizational structure of the text.  29  Because A Vision for 21st Century Education articulated competing visions of teachers’ work, I drew on Fairclough’s ideas about interdiscursive analysis. According to Fairclough (2005), interdiscursive analysis allows one to incorporate elements of ‘context’ into the analysis of texts, to show the relationship between concrete occasional events and more durable social practices, to show innovation and change in texts, and it has a mediating role in allowing one to connect detailed linguistic and semiotic features of texts with processes of social change on a broader scale. (p. 79, emphasis added) More succinctly, interdiscursive analysis may be understood as a means of mapping a terrain by “mixing ... ‘external’ with ‘internal’ discursive elements” (Fairclough, 2005, p. 87).  My interdiscursive analysis was accomplished by comparing and contrasting selections of A Vision for 21st Century Education with an alternative construction of teachers’ work. This process essentially (re-)contextualized how the text constructed teachers and their work through an interruption of ‘common sense’ notions of teachers and their work, and by assisting in the development of alternative constructions of teachers and their work within policy texts—for instance, as democratic agents (Gutmann, 1999).  In a concrete sense, I was interested in mapping the bridges and gaps between competing visions of ‘good teachers’ and ‘good teaching.’ Specifically, I compared A Vision for 21st Century Education’s ideal 21st-century educator with Kumaravadivelu’s (2003) teacher as technician, and Gutmann’s (1999) teacher as democratic agent. By interdiscursively circumscribing constructions of teachers and teachers’ work I hope to problematize the assumption that the 21st-century teacher represents a “transformative” vision of ‘good teaching.’  In order to identify constructions of ‘good teachers’ and ‘good teaching,’ I used the online word cloud generator, Wordle.9 Wordle condensed the text into graphic representations which were not only analytically meaningful but also visually potent. Here I am in agreement with McNaught and Lam (2010),  30 9 Accessible at: who argue that “word clouds can be a useful research tool to aid educational research,” on the basis that they “allow researchers to quickly visualize some general patterns in text” (p. 641).  Owing to the fact that word clouds “treat each word as the unit of analysis” (McNaught and Lam, 2010, p. 641), I believe that they make an efficient and accessible—albeit somewhat rudimentary— vehicle for content analysis. Within the present study I have used word clouds to provide a means of merging content analysis with discourse analysis by foregrounding and analyzing the relative importance that is given to particular terms within A Vision for 21st Century Education. Although word clouds may offer a convenient way to highlight emphasis within texts, attention must be given to grounding the usage of terms within a text. That is, in order to make use of word clouds in a discourse analysis, the terms that are illuminated within a particular word cloud have to be situated in relation to other terms—and discourses. To accomplish this, I provide an abundance of examples and patterns of usage.  To organize my data analysis I divided my discourse analysis into two primary axes. The first portion considers how constituent features of A Vision for 21st Century Education construct a particular notion of ‘good teaching.’ Chapter 4, then, is an analysis of the text’s genre. The second axis highlights the relative importance of particular terms and linguistic phrases used in the text to discursively frame ‘good teacher.’ Chapter 5, then, is analysis of the text’s style. In essence, I use word clouds as heuristics, and take care to ground these analytic intervals within the text. Throughout my analysis I make an effort to draw out features of the text to situate A Vision for 21st Century Education in relation to learnification and accountingization. 3.4 Generalizability  The study is not generalizable to all versions of 21CL policy, or to all teachers who work within the 21CL policy milieu. Likewise, the study is not necessarily generalizable to all locations where 21CL is being implemented. This is made necessary due to the fact that policies are taken up differently across contexts, and every single implementation of 21CL is an interpretation of an interpretation. Phrased differently, there are different versions of 21CL policy, and these versions are driven by local desires and embody a whole spectrum of ideologies. Instead of getting lost in these idiosyncratic approaches, this  31 study specifically focuses the version of 21CL which is most directly accommodated for by B.C.’s Ministry of Education.  The current study is most interested in what Yin (1989) refers to as analytic generalization: “in analytic generalization, the investigator is striving to generalize a particular set of results to a broader theory” (p. 44). In this case, I link the discursive constructions of teachers and teachers’ work in a specific version of 21CL with alternative understandings of ‘good teaching.’ My thinking here was that single cases may be used to maximize generalization (Firestone, 1993), and are “ideally suited for studies that wish to understand the intricacies of complex phenomena and develop and revise conceptual frameworks” (Webb, 2005, p. 195). It is worth reiterating, however, that 21CL is highly vulnerable to idiosyncrasy, and that implementations of 21CL are enactments of translations, of translations. Nevertheless, I believe the basic features of A Vision for 21st Century Education are archetypal—i.e., it was not drafted by teachers or scholars of education, it essentializes public schooling within a discourse of economic functionalism, and it privileges an idealized vision ‘good teaching’—and the document is assumed to have a high degree of generalizability. Conclusion  In this chapter I outlined the procedural and methodological horizons of the study. I extended Chapter 2’s discussion on policy by highlighting the symmetry between policy and discourse, and described the various approaches used to analyze data in the present study. A complementary approach to content and discourse analysis was advanced as a vehicle for foregrounding the constructions of teachers which are embedded in policy texts. Attention was given to outlining the form and function of the version of discourse analysis to be used in the study. And, finally, the chapter concluded with an exploration of the study’s generalizability. With this context established, I will now segue into an analysis of elements of genre—and ‘good teaching’— in A Vision for 21st Century Education.  32 Chapter 4 Genre analysis: (De/Re)Contextualizing A Vision for 21st Century Education In this chapter I consider how ‘problems’ are used to justify the need for 21CL by providing a textual reading that analyzes elements of genre—including various visual and semiotic cues—in A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010). After a brief summary, I describe the text’s genre as a particular logic or rationale of problem, solution, and script that articulates distinctive ideas of ‘good teaching.’ Throughout the chapter I develop assertions to illustrate that ideas of ‘good teaching’ derived from the genre of the text. I defend these assertions with data. Specifically, the two assertions in this chapter are: (i) A Vision for 21st Century Education uses rationalized imperatives to naturalize ‘good teaching’ within a discourse of managerialism; (ii) A Vision for 21st Century Education is derived from imperatives that shape or circumscribe the agency of readers—and eventually teachers. 4.1 Framing the Mirror of Erised: Problems and solutions for B.C.’s schools and teachers  A Vision for 21st Century Education consists of an executive summary, seven chapters, three appendices,10 and a 5-page bibliography [46 pages total]. The text’s organizational structure can be broken into three functional units: (a) identifying the ‘problem’ with public education in B.C., (b) constructing a ‘solution’ to the ‘problem’ with public education in B.C., and (c) setting that ‘solution’ into motion by narrating a ‘script’ for teachers, students, and parents to follow.  A Vision for 21st Century Education begins with an introduction which justifies the need for change by highlighting a series of ‘problems.’ These ‘problems’ include the increasing complexities of life in the 21st century, the disruptive influences of technological development and the ubiquity of information, and comparative threats to B.C.’s ‘economic leadership’ (p. 7). They also include an awareness that there are “increasing demands for more open government, and society”; and that “BC must have an education system that is structured so that all students, regardless of background or community, have the opportunity, not only to reach their own goals but to contribute to our knowledge-based  33 10 The appendices focus on the measurement of 21st-century skills, list consultants and contributors, and acknowledge members and staff of the Premier’s Technology Council. society” (p. 5). On these grounds, A Vision for 21st Century Education insists that assessment and teaching practices must be “transformed” to prepare students for successful lives (p. 14).  A Vision for 21st Century Education then devotes three chapters arguing on behalf of reforms that are aimed at realizing an idealized vision of British Columbia as a “knowledge-based society” (p. 7). The text describes its advocacy as rooted in an understanding that “the sheer volume of accessible information is increasing exponentially,” and driven by the belief that “the children of tomorrow, indeed the students of today, will have to be flexible enough to adapt to an incredible pace of change” (p. 7). The author(s)11 of A Vision for 21st Century Education claim historical legitimacy by underscoring the fact that they have “long advocated that BC acknowledge this global shift and strive to become a knowledge-based society” (p. 7). In brief, this “global shift” includes a reform agenda which re-conceptualizes the roles of teachers, students, and parents—calling upon them to “transform to meet the needs of the changing world” (p. 7). This “transformation” of public education is premised in the belief that B.C. is under threat from “major competitors” (p. 7). A Vision for 21st Century Education references the Organization of American States to anchor teachers’ work within the needs of the knowledge-based society and the knowledge-based economy—which singularly “relies on the knowledge of its citizens to drive the innovation, entrepreneurship, and dynamism of that society’s economy” (p. 7).  In a chapter titled “Needs of the Knowledge-Based Economy,” A Vision for 21st Century Education outlines the particular skills that are needed “for students to become full participants in a knowledge-based society” (p. 9). Over and above the acquisition of particular skills, the text also emphasizes the need for schools to relay ‘aptitudes’ which enable students to “apply these skills to their best effect” (p. 9). Specifically, according to A Vision for 21st Century Education students “must be able to apply their skills both to secure their own future in the knowledge-based society and to take on the responsibility of contributing to our society” (p. 9). Each of these skills and attributes (see Figure 2) are contextualized with succinct and declarative 1-2 paragraph descriptions. All of the ‘new skills’ are linked  34 11 The authorship of A Vision for 21st Century Education is left ambiguous so in my analysis I simplify by focusing on the text itself. with the desires of “the business sector in British Columbia” and “the success of international business” (p. 12). Figure 2: A Vision for 21st Century Education - Skills and attributes  Next follows a chapter titled “Vision of Education for the 21st Century,” in which a series of binaries are constructed to illustrate the distance between an idealized vision of public education and the current state of B.C.’s schools. Specifically, A Vision for 21st Century Education insists that schools—and teachers—“mov[e] away from the traditional education model of the previous century” and “transform” their approach: (i) from an emphasis on learning information to a focus on learning to learn; (ii) from a view of teaching as an act of relaying data to an understanding of teaching as enabling discovery; (iii) from standardized approaches to curricular practice to a curriculum and pedagogy of personalized learning; (iv) from testing to assess to assessing to learn; and (v) from classroom learning to lifelong learning. This chapter consists of a series of imperatives: teachers must X, Y, and Z. Broadly speaking, A Vision for 21st Century Education’s argument is that technologically enabled personalized learning will lead to more engaged learners, better learning outcomes, and happy employers/employees. To achieve these ends, the text suggests that new technologies can be used to provide “instant feedback to students on their progress and students can use that feedback to adapt and improve outcomes” (p. 16). This re- iterative cycle of assessments and feedback will give students the “options and flexibility to customize experiences and to follow their passions” (p. 17).  Having detailed the ‘problem’ with public schooling in B.C., A Vision for 21st Century Education then takes two chapters to sketch an idealized vision of ‘good teaching.’ In “How Would the System Function?” there is a broad outline of the essential components and processes that make up a ‘21st  • numeracy and literacy       • critical thinking and problem solving  • creativity and innovation      • technological literacy  • communications and media literacy   • collaboration and teamwork  • personal organization       • motivation, self-regulation and adaptability (PTC, 2010, p. 9)  35 century system’; and “Shifting Roles” describes how these “transformative” ideas are to be taken up and enacted by teachers, students, and parents.  A Vision for 21st Century Education insists on the fact that the needs of the knowledge-based economy demand that teaching must be “transformed” and guided by a more ‘functional’ vision. This vision consists of: (i) flexible education paths which make use of interdisciplinary and project-based approaches; (ii) a blended system that complements classroom instruction with online learning; (iii) using technology as a vehicle for learning; (iv) enhanced access to information and communication technologies; and (v) constant feedback and assessment. These changes are offered as a means of providing students “with more complete access to knowledge of the world around them and a drive to deeper understanding of relevant issues” (p. 22). According to A Vision for 21st Century Education, this more ‘functional’ approach to public education would “allow [students] to be more creative and inventive in a later work environment” (p. 22).  In the conclusion, A Vision for 21st Century Education re-iterates the impacts of technologically mediated changes in society, and re-emphasizes the need for an individualized and customized approach to public education. The text concedes that its vision is “structured to address ideal conditions,” and that “societal barriers” can present real obstacles which must be “account[ed] for” (p. 27). Although A Vision for 21st Century Education insists that the required changes are “transformational” and must include a fundamental re-examination of B.C.’s public education system, it also stresses that “this paper is not predicated on deconstructing the current system” (p. 27). Indeed, there is an acknowledgment that “B.C.’s education system is evolving and dialogue on these issues is on-going,” and an affirmation of B.C. for having “discussed similar kinds of changes” and for taking “some smaller steps toward implementation” (p. 27). Nevertheless, A Vision for 21st Century Education maintains that “there is a high level of consensus on this vision” and that “government should place high priority on accelerating the pace of change to become truly transformational” (p. 27).  36 4.2 Genre  By breaking A Vision for 21st Century Education into functional units—e.g. problem, solution, script—it becomes possible to identify the text’s genre. For Fairclough (2003), genres “are important to sustaining the institutional structure of contemporary society” (p. 32), and he suggested that they might be thought of as “different ways of (inter)acting discoursally” (p. 26).  Fairclough (2003) offered an array of example genres that may be identifiable within texts: journalistic feature articles, corporate advertising, tourist brochures, etc. To render the concept of genre more proximal to my study, however, I might begin by adding white papers to supplement Fairclough’s list. White papers are primarily used as tools for marketing ideas, and function as a means to educate and persuade, define problems, and persuade readers to accept a particular solution as ideal (Sakamuro and Stolley, 2010).  Genre chains occur where different genres are linked together, resulting in systematic changes from one genre to another. According to Fairclough (2003), genre chains help make ‘action at a distance’ easier. For instance, the discourse of globalization acts as a nexus where the genres of international organizations, multinational companies, and powerful governments are chained and changed into other genres in other countries and at lower scales of social life. In other words, genres may be chained together via processes of re-contextualization: “the appropriation of elements of one social practice within another, placing the former within the context of the later, and transforming it in particular ways in the process” (p. 32). Modestly, I suggest that genre chains are one way that A Vision for 21st Century Education became a ‘borrowed policy’ set within an internationalized discourse of 21CL (Ozga, 2000). Assertion 1: Using imperatives to naturalize teaching within a managerial discourse  The functional design of A Vision for 21st Century Education is representative of the white paper genre: In essence the text defines a problem (i.e., teacher-led, content-driven, technology-deprived public education), and attempts to identify and/or operationalize a solution (i.e., student-led, skills-driven, technology-enabled public education). There is also an admission that the text “investigates what a system might look like should it be transformed” (p. 1). In other words, a primary purpose for releasing A Vision  37 for 21st Century Education was to ‘float’ or “test the climate of public opinion regarding a controversial policy issue” (Chapin and Deneau, 1978, p. 33). However, there are also elements of other genres which mix and conjoin to convey and re-contextualize meanings. For instance, the case study vignettes are typical appropriations/translations of the ethnographic genre; and the footnotes and bibliography are features common to the academic genre. At the same time, it is important to note that A Vision for 21st Century Education relies on international comparisons to construct a globalized space of commensurability. As a result, the text should also be recognized as a representative example from the genre of scalar politics (Lingard and Rawolle, 2009).  Notwithstanding, I found that the genre most explicitly privileged by A Vision for 21st Century Education is management talk, a way of acting and interacting that is primarily “addressed to managers and people occupying intermediate levels in companies” (Chiapello and Fairclough, 2002, p. 186). I believe that the text articulates what I am calling the ‘management talk genre’ by including an executive summary and reductive bullet points, and by foregoing any meaningful engagement with socio-cultural complexities while relying on simplified graphs to reinforce claims.  The genre of management talk extends the work of Fairclough, who interpreted managerialist discourses as “disallow[ing] the speaking of concern, of welfare, of collective experience, of the whole human person, of emancipation!” (cited in Caughlan and Beach, 2007, p. 10). Far from innocuous, Fairclough argued that these discourses give rise to a “disjuncture,” a widening gap, between the values, beliefs and practices of many teachers and the “emergent” corporatism or managerialism in education—a dominant discourse which is one of strategy, efficiency and performance, constructing education as a rational instrument. (cited in Caughlan and Beach, 2007, p. 10) Phrased differently, managerialism may be understood as a collection of values and truths that can converge within policy texts to articulate what I am calling management talk—a genre which naturalizes an obsession with outputs and a relentless pursuit of efficiency—and Fairclough suggested that these values are being superimposed over the values of teachers by an ‘emergent corporatism.’  38  To reiterate, Fairclough suggested that managerialism constructs “education as a rational instrument,” and from within this frame education becomes re-contextualized in accordance with pre- determined values like economism, competition, and self-capitalization. In so doing, concern for the welfare of others and “collective experience” is rendered marginal—if not irrelevant. This provides a basis for understanding managerialism as a despotic set of logics which circumscribe agency and experience.  A central feature of A Vision for 21st Century Education is its emphatic expression of management talk. Although the text also makes use of the academic genre, a critical differentiation is made in the choice to include an ‘executive summary’ rather than an ‘abstract.’ That is to say, the intended readers of an executive summary and an abstract are not necessarily commensurable, and the executive summary expresses a genre that categorically privileges the ‘executive’ reader. Thus, from the very beginning of A Vision for 21st Century Education there are analytically meaningful elements that convey ‘common sense’ ways of being and assist in the process of (re-)contextualizing teachers’ work as an object to be managed by [corporate] executives.  Another managerialist element within A Vision for 21st Century Education is its use of bullet points to preface each major section of the text, which is followed by succinct 1-2 paragraph descriptions. I would suggest that this approach constructs a ‘common sense’ in which there is an unrelenting pursuit of efficiency. That is to say, bullet points and instrumentalist explanations are functional elements which render natural and ‘common sense’ the managerialist assumption that ideas—and commands—are most efficiently apprehended as discrete, bite-sized, and autonomous units.  Similarly, I take all three of the graphs used in A Vision for 21st Century Education as representative of the managerialist pursuit of efficiency and strategic performance. For instance,  39 Figure 3: “Transformative” vision or management talk on display? Figure 3 (p. 20) consists of a single rectangle divided into two triangles and purports to represent A Vision for 21st Century Education’s idea of a “flexible path to education” (p. 20). This figure could be construed as a quintessential example of management talk because it collapses and reduces complex data beneath a deceptively simplistic line that is plotted along an X and Y axis. This is consistent with a “performance management agenda [that] reduces the school experience to narrow performance outcomes (essentially, test and exam success) rather than the means by which these are achieved (how young people engage with the learning process” (Beckmann, Cooper and Hill, 2009, p. 315). As a result, I consider Figure 3 to be a strategic performance and illustrative of a management talk genre.  40 Assertion 2: Using imperatives to shape and circumscribe agency  To better foreground managerialist features within the text, I counted and compiled a list of modal verbs, and used this list to generate a word cloud: Figure 4: Modalization in A Vision for 21st Century Education  41  By singularly focusing on modal verbs, Figure 4 makes it possible to highlight key aspects of the text’s genre. In particular, this word cloud foregrounds the fact that A Vision for 21st Century Education uses strong modalization to narrate and normalize particular actions and values. That is to say, the overwhelming emphasis given to ‘“will” [85], “must” [37], and “should” [18] suggests a willingness to determine the roles and values of others.  To understand how “will” [85] was sutured into A Vision for 21st Century Education, I looked for examples of how it was used within the text. This facet of analysis seemed important, given that “will” could be linked with either an instrumentalist or non-instrumentalist vision of schooling. That is, the text might stress that adequate resourcing for teachers’ work will be a guiding principle of 21CL in B.C., or that implementation of 21CL policy will draw its legitimacy from the pursuit of equity and social justice. On the other hand, the text might link “will” with autocratic demands which circumscribe ‘good teaching’ within a reductive and narrow understanding of teachers’ work.  The following extract provides a representative example of how “will” [85] is used in A Vision for 21st Century Education: As the student progresses the system needs to allow flexibility that not only accommodates the student’s abilities but also engages them by catering to their interests. The student will take a larger and larger role in charting a path best suited to those talents, interests, and abilities. “Learning sciences research suggests that more effective learning will occur if each learner receives a customized learning experience.[...] students learn best when they are placed in a learning environment that is sensitive to their pre-existing [cognitive] structures and that is flexible enough to adapt teaching strategies to individual needs.” On a day to day basis this will require a more project-based or problem-based approach, where the learning is related to a specific task that integrates a number of traditional subject areas. While on a broader time scale, parents and students must take a more active role in guiding their own education. This will help to keep the students engaged and interested in learning. (p. 16, emphasis added) For all the stress on what ‘will occur,’ ‘will be required,’ and ‘will help,’ there is a noticeable de-valuation —if not omission—of teachers’ work. That is, this extract makes it apparent that A Vision for 21st Century  42 Education imposes a clear demarcation of what ‘good teaching’ will accomplish without accommodating the voices and values of teachers. Succinctly put, the extract reveals how “will” [85] is used in A Vision for 21st Century Education to script descriptions of the outcomes of teachers’ work and construe education as a managerialist and purely “rational instrument” (Caughlan and Beach, 2007, p. 10).  Equally important, Figure 4 accentuates the relative under-use of more accommodating modalizations within A Vision for 21st Century Education—i.e., “can” [24], “may” [5], “might” [2]. Illustrative examples of the text’s use of “may” include: “other [students] may prefer the options of online learning” (p. 20), and “each new experience ... may throw up a challenge” (p. 26, emphasis added). Here it is interesting to consider how these modalizations may or may not leave space for possibility and agency. It would be quite different, for example, if A Vision for 21st Century Education stated: “Students will prefer online learning,” or “Each experience must throw up a challenge.” In foregoing these stronger modalizations for “may,” the text allows a space for heterogeneity and a modicum of agency.  The text’s use of “might” [2], in contrast, is less successful in opening a space for possibility and agency, and more so acts as a mask for naturalizing what should be done or believed. For example, A Vision for 21st Century Education paradoxically argues that “BC has a strong education system and might be considered a leader” (p. 7), and insists that “this paper ... investigates what a system might look like should it be transformed” (p. 1, emphasis added). If it is accepted that “BC has a strong education system,” then it seems reasonable to assume that teachers play(ed) a substantive role in this success—and yet the text claims that teachers’ work can and should be “transformed.” Taken together, it appears that A Vision for 21st Century Education understands teachers as simultaneously succeeding and failing. From within this paradoxical coupling, the text legitimates itself as having an uncontested view of how teachers’ work should be “transformed.”  Overall, I believe the preceding examples illustrate how the modalization that is used in A Vision for 21st Century Education is suggestive of a vision that begins by defining a particular reality as ideal— i.e., managerialism—and progresses by scripting the roles and values of others. This combination of defined roles and foreclosed possibility is consistent with an approach to education policy which conceptualizes others as a means to particular ends, and makes it possible to assert that (i) A Vision for  43 21st Century Education uses rationalized imperatives to omit conflict, ambiguity, and alternative values while naturalizing ‘good teaching’ within a discourse of managerialism; and (ii) A Vision for 21st Century Education is derived from imperatives that shape the agency of readers—and eventually teachers. Conclusion  Interestingly, a meta-genre holding the managerialist genre chain together is techno-utopianism: ‘Technology can not only set us free, it will bring us straight to the Gates of Heaven!’ The image of wires on the front cover sets the stage for a technology-centric vision. A Vision for 21st Century Education acknowledges Cisco, a transnational telecommunications corporation, for having drawn attention to students’ use of technology and media consumption—“except for when sleeping, school is nearly the only time when [school-aged children] do not use technology” (p. 24). The text also insists that technology take center-stage in the development of education policies on the basis that “technology can provide new options for assessment and data analysis for improved learning outcomes” (p. 22). In other words, within the body of the text technology companies are cited and positioned as leaders of education policy and educational research, and a singular and categorical emphasis is given to privileging technology as a vehicle for innovation and creativity. Given these points, I believe there is strong reason for seeing A Vision for 21st Century Education as a collection of genres chained together to form a “transformational” vision for B.C.’s schools that is grounded in scalar politics and managerialism, and driven by techno- utopianism. In so doing, meanings are translated and re-contextualized across genres: The scalar values of transnational technology corporations become mingled with the values of teachers, and ‘good teaching’ is re-imagined as a vehicle for constructing a knowledge-based society.  44 Chapter 5 Discourse analysis: Styles of learnification and accountingization in A Vision for 21st Century Education In this chapter I address the remaining research questions by focusing on the style in A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010). Specifically, I: (i) foreground how teachers’ work is discursively circumscribed within the text, and (ii) map the rhetorical strategies that are used to (re-)contextualize teachers’ work as a relay for 21CL. To do so, I use Fairclough’s (2003) approach to discourse analysis to describe how style is conveyed in texts, and then identify how pronouns and particular terms are used stylistically as both voice and omission within the text. I also take care to show how the text’s use of pronouns and key terms stylistically contribute to a discourse of learnification (Biesta, 2009b) and accountingization (Thompson and Cook, 2012). The chapter concludes with an interdiscursive analysis in which I compare and contrast A Vision for 21st Century Education’s construction of ‘good teachers’ with an alternative discourse that positions teachers as democratic agents (Gutmann, 1999).  Like Chapter 4, I develop assertions to argue that conceptions of ‘good teaching’ can derive from a text’s style. Specifically, I argue that A Vision for 21st Century Education uses language to (i) construct ‘good teachers’ as relays for learnification; and (ii) reduce teachers’ work to a technical perspective in order to promote a conception of accountingization. After a brief discussion on discursive style, the chapter proceeds in order of defending these two assertions. 5.1 Style  Following Fairclough (2003), styles may be understood as particular ways of representing and identifying (p. 29). More concretely, styles add accent, pitch, and hue, to policy texts. For instance, a text might have a style which is reductive and essentialist (e.g. ‘This is what counts: record, classify, maximize for efficiency.’), authoritarian and scientistic (e.g. ‘The research says follow these steps and outcomes will improve.’), or flippant and paternalistic (e.g. ‘Father knows best—now be good girls and boys and do as he says.’). Fairclough (2001a) suggested that discourse, genre, and style sit in a dialectical  45 and mutually reinforcing relationship, and are the foundations of a text’s personality. Phrased more simply, Fairclough has argued that discourses are enacted in genres and inculcated in styles.  For instance, earlier I argued that elements of A Vision for 21st Century Education’s genre include its use of bullet points, executive summary, and the figures used as ‘strategic performances.’ These features are also aspects of stylistic design—which seems appropriate, given that Fairclough (2003) has insisted that “genres and styles ... are organized together in interdiscursive relations, relations in which different genres, discourses and styles may be ‘mixed,’ articulated and textured together in particular ways” (p. 37). In other words, discourses combine and mingle to generate the content, structure and flow of any particular text, and these elements convey ‘ways of acting’ (genres) as well as ‘ways of being’ (styles). In this case, features within A Vision for 21st Century Education (i) locate the text within the management talk genre; and (ii) convey a style that positions and constructs ‘good teachers’ through the skillful use of pronouns and omissions.  To analyze style within a text, it is necessary to pay careful attention to sentence structures and types. Broadly speaking, key elements of style may be mapped by assessing whether or not a text privileges declarative, instructional sentences which shape agency and/or develop idealized roles (e.g. ‘good teacher’); or tentative assertions which draw the reader in with questions and unresolved dilemmas. A text may use personalizing pronouns (e.g. you, we, our), or a preference may be given to de- personalizing pronouns (e.g. one, them, it). In the same way, a text may hedge (e.g. may, could, might) or dictate with modal verbs (e.g. must, should, ought).  Another element of style that may be identified and analyzed within policy texts is what the text does not say—i.e., what it omits and/or obscures from relevance. A text may singularly emphasize the need for ‘new’ instructional practices while avoiding the relevance of students’ and teachers’ lived experiences of those practices. Or a text may forego any and all mention of conflict, allowing for the comprehensive privileging of policy makers’ values. Alternatively, a policy text may collapse and homogenize the experiences of different ethnic groups and genders, generalize and universalize particular values and goals, and/or essentialize the horizons of ‘good teaching.’ These styles may assist in the work of (re-)contextualization by effectively denying difference and reducing teachers and students to objects.  46 In so doing, both teachers and students can become (re-)conceptualized as a means for achieving policy makers’ ends. Assertion 1: Constructing teachers as relays for learnification  I found that the genre and style of A Vision for 21st Century Education function as a means of naturalizing a voice that circumscribes the agency of readers—and eventually teachers. For instance, the text expresses its voice by using pronouns to define and demarcate the roles and responsibilities of others: [A Vision for 21st Century Education] focuses on providing all students, regardless of their economic, geographic, or ethnic background, the skills they need to participate in a knowledge- based society, while also allowing them to explore an educational path that is best suited to their interests, their capabilities, and their chosen future. (p. 14, emphasis added) In this passage the text uses pronouns to seductively individualize the experience of public eduction as it simultaneously removes teachers from view. Overall, the pronouns in the passage position A Vision for 21st Century Education as justified in altering the purpose of public education to realize a ‘knowledge- based economy.’ However, there is some question of whether or not “their”—i.e., students—interests might possibly lie outside schooling, or if “their” chosen futures are necessarily in alignment with the ‘knowledge-based economy.’ More pointedly, there is some question of how it is that A Vision for 21st Century Education can speak for so many. Notwithstanding, the pronouns in the passage clearly position the text as ‘in control’ and free to see/impose the world as a ‘knowledge-based economy.’  A Vision for 21st Century Education also uses voice to create an us vs. them binary which constructs competition between individuals, provinces, and States as natural and ‘common sense’: Recognised world leaders in education such as Finland and Singapore have acknowledged the challenges of the rapidly changing knowledge-based world. In spite of their current leading status they are in the process of fundamentally re-examining their education systems. BC needs to do the same if it wants to retain its own status as a leader and to approach the rapidly changing world with confidence. (p. 27, emphasis added)  47 This competitive binary is further concretized by the text’s strategic use of modal verbs—e.g. the education system “must transform,” “students must be able to apply their skills,” “parents and students must take a more active role in guiding their own education” (pp. 6, 9, 16, emphasis added). These examples suggest that a primary facet of the text’s voice is the systematic attempt to shape the future and lived experiences in particular ways. More concretely, the text’s strategic use of pronouns and modal verbs conveys the insistence that if we do not reform public education to better serve the needs of the knowledge-based economy, they will achieve superiority. In shaping the roles of social actors—teachers, students, parents—while simultaneously denying alternative ideas of schooling, A Vision for 21st Century Education can and should be recognized as a despotic text that speaks for others—not with them.  The stylistic use of pronouns produces another significant dimension in A Vision for 21st Century Education in what it does not say. In particular, there is a comprehensive occlusion of conflict and a denial of ambiguity. Simply put, the text gives no allowance for any alternative understandings of schooling or values related to schooling in a democracy. For instance, A Vision for 21st Century Education argues that even though not everyone shares precisely the same views on all topics, there remain many things that society does agree on. It is important that students in our k-12 system know what these are. There are common ethics about the way we treat others, the way we treat our environment, and about obeying the law. We share a civic responsibility and students must come to understand the importance of civilized discourse on issues and their role in a democratic society. (p. 12, emphasis added) This passage illustrates an occluding style by collapsing citizenship beneath a mystifying consensus that de-politicizes and homogenizes a set of shared values. For example, if there are common ethics about the way we treat others, it is not clear who did the deciding or what they decided: Do these common ethics include an emphasis on collective advancement or self-interest? Are these common ethics about the treatment of the environment equally applicable to everyone—even petroleum companies, seal hunters, and the Royal Canadian Air Force? If we have a common ethics, then why do we have a juridical system? Similarly, what does “civilized discourse” look like in a democracy? Is it necessarily reducible to electoral  48 politics and ‘voting with your pocketbook’? What I mean to illustrate here is that meaningful facets of the style of A Vision for 21st Century Education are conveyed via pronouns and omissions. Specifically, the text uses omission to construct a simplified view of reality in which voices and values are homogenized and thinned. A minimum consequence of these omissions is that alternative values are marginalized—if not rendered irrelevant.  The use of pronouns to define and demarcate the roles and responsibilities of others is a stylistic technique that derives from and contributes to a discourse of learnification and accountingization. To sketch a more concrete understanding of style in A Vision for 21st Century Education, I created a word cloud to highlight the text’s 50 most used terms:  49 Figure 5: Condensed image of A Vision for 21st Century Education   50  The clear dominance of “learning” [137] is further indication that Biesta’s (2009b) learnification is a central animating feature within A Vision for 21st Century Education. As a point of contrast, it is meaningful to note the relative insignificance of “teacher(s)” [18(19)], “parents” [23], and “school” [24]. Moreover, there are mentions of “skills” [73], “information” [63], and “technology” [51]; but there is no mention of culture, art, democracy, personal or social well-being, ethics or principles. At a minimum, I believe these asymmetrical emphases further illustrate a subordination of teachers’ work within a discourse of learnification and accountingization that entirely omits alternative reasons for schooling.  While my analysis focuses on 21CL in relation to teachers’ work, it is notable that “learning” [137] and “student(s)” [43(103)] appear to be paired as dominant concepts, so I searched the text for examples of usage. The most direct linkage of students and learning comes on page 8, where the text states that “students must learn to be creative and how to innovate” (emphasis added). Other examples from the text include the suggestion that 21st-century skills “require more interaction among learners” (p. 21), and the claims that “the goal is to create self-directed learners” (p. 18) and “long-term learners” (p. 22, emphasis added).  Although these examples cannot categorically demonstrate a conflation of students with learners, they suggest that A Vision for 21st Century Education essentializes the role of students to learning. By making this point I mean to draw attention to the fact that the text seems less interested in students’ experiences and values than in normalizing the learning of particular skills: “Such skills will not only translate directly into the workplace but they are viewed as highly desirable by employers” (p. 11). Taken together, A Vision for 21st Century Education collapses students and learners within the discourse of learnification—and beneath the desires of employers.  To more firmly contextualize the dilemma of reducing students to learners, it is notable that the text argues that: Some students would likely prefer a heavier emphasis on classroom learning while others may prefer the options of online learning, especially if they find their scheduling difficult, and it would be beneficial to allow choices to best fit the individual. (p. 20, emphasis added)  51 In this sentence A Vision for 21st Century Education normalizes ‘good teaching’ within a discourse of learnification while simplifying and reducing the desires of students beneath an abstracted drive for learning. That is to say, students are understood as self-capitalizing consumers that desire particular vehicles for learning, and the values and motivations which make learning meaningful are occluded from view.  The following extract makes A Vision for 21st Century Education’s devaluation of students’ experiences of teachers’ work more explicit: At the level of the student there are a handful of components that are critical to the success of this more self-directed kind of learning. The first is that students must be able to access information. Unfettered (but not unguided) access will allow them to find the information they need to learn and to teach themselves as they go forward: “Groups of children can navigate the internet to achieve educational objectives on their own.” (pp. 21-22, emphasis added) Here it is apparent that the text understands “success” as “learning,” and that “learning” is completely hollowed out and stripped of moral value. Indeed, the passage illustrates that the text reduces teachers’ work to acting as guides for students’ self-directed learning. More broadly, A Vision for 21st Century Education links ‘good teaching’ with students and learning in a simplistic and reductive way—the what and why of learning is erased, all that matters is that students “must learn.” Indeed, any semblance of ‘good teaching’ as guided by collective values is categorically denied: teachers fall into the background and students can learn via the Internet.  Figure 5 also illustrates that A Vision for 21st Century Education places a stronger emphasis on “learning” [137], “system” [76], “skills” [73], and “technology” [51], than “teaching” [9]. Moreover, Figure 5 strikingly highlights the functional omission of “democracy” [0] and “equity” [1] from A Vision for 21st Century Education. I would suggest that occluding teachers’ work beneath a relay for particular skills and the use of technology denotes a ‘sterile’ or instrumentalist approach to public education. At a minimum, I believe this discursive dislodging of teachers’ work from democracy and equity is best understood as a technicist de-privileging of teachers, and is further evidence of Biesta’s (2009a) learnification:  52 What is disappearing from the horizon in this process is a recognition that it also matters what pupils and students learn and what they learn it for—that it matters, for example, what kind of citizens they are supposed to become and what kind of democracy this is supposed to bring about. (p. 39)  Although a simple and reductive ‘concept count’ can neither convey how a particular term is used, nor demonstrate how terms are paired or linked within a given text; I substantiate this reasoning by showing how “learning” [137] is used within the body of the text. Digging further into the text’s use of “learning” [137], it is notable that A Vision for 21st Century Education describes a key facet of its approach to 21CL as shifting “from classroom learning to lifelong learning” (p. 16, emphasis added). As an illustrative case in point, the text states that the education system must evolve from being the focal point of education to more of a base camp for learning. This requires a more balanced approach that includes learning partners and increased engagement of parents and the community. Engaging in life learning outside of school will better prepare students for the future. They must accept that learning does not simply end with formal schooling. People must be able to continue learning in order to remain engaged in society. (p. 16, emphasis added) Within this short span of five sentences, A Vision for 21st Century Education: (i) re-conceptualizes public education as “a base camp for learning,” (ii) reduces a community of peers to “learning partners,” (iii) identifies “life learning” as a contemporary dilemma, (iv) implies that students are unaware that learning “does not simply end with formal schooling,” and (v) essentializes social engagement as a byproduct of learning. This passage emphatically anchors A Vision for 21st Century Education within Biesta’s critique of learnification by linking ‘good teaching’ with learning while avoiding any mention of students’ unequal life experiences and asymmetrical access to “learning partners,” and by side-stepping the values which might make learning meaningful within a broader, socio-cultural context. Overall, I believe these examples highlight the text’s (re-)articulation of teachers’ work within a discourse of learnification.  53 Assertion 2: Reducing teachers’ work to a technical perspective, promoting accountingization   “Must” is the only modal verb in Figure 5, and may be taken as further evidence of the management talk genre but in relation to a style that expresses ‘good teachers’ as relays for accountingization.12 To clarify this point, it is notable that Figure 5 also illustrates the importance of “system” [76] within A Vision for 21st Century Education. For instance, the text insists that “the system must put a greater emphasis on the learning of skills over the learning of content” (p. 15, emphasis added). This sentence places “the system” as the site and agent of change, and renders unintelligible the teachers and actual people who co-construct and give life to “the system.” Following Fairclough (2003), this sentence may be seen as relying upon the passivation of social actors—a discursive tactic which may “dehumanize social actors” (p. 150). It is important to stress that the distinction between activation and passivation is not limited to the grammatical use of active and passive voice: “There need not be congruence between the roles that social actors actually play in social practices and the grammatical roles they are given in texts” (van Leeuwen, 1996, p. 43). Instead, activation may be understood as occurring when social actors are discursively constructed as having access to agency, and passivation is found when social actors are discursively constructed as having limited access to agency. Fairclough (2003) clarifies by adding that The significance of ‘activation’ and ‘passivation’ is rather transparent: where social actors are mainly activated, their capacity for agentive action, for making things happen, for controlling others and so forth is accentuated, where they are mainly passivated, what is accentuated is their subjection to processes, them being affected by the actions of others, and so forth. (p. 150)  A series of examples might effectively demonstrate the impacts of passivizing teachers’ work beneath the “system” [76]: The public education system “needs to allow flexibility” (PTC, 2010, p. 16), “must be flexible ... to accommodate” (p. 15), and “must evolve” (p. 16). This is made necessary by the fact that parents and students “fully expect an education system to cater to [their] demands” (p. 25). To  54 12 It is also possible that “must” could be used to articulate a genre other than management talk—e.g. militaristic or juridical. To distinguish from among these possibilities, it is necessary to situate the discourses and structural features used in a text in relation to one another. For instance, in A Vision for 21st Century Education discourses of ‘good teacher’ and ‘good teaching’ are conveyed through the genre of management talk—and enacted through modalization as well as the executive summary and bullet points. accommodate for this perceived need, A Vision for 21st Century Education’s vision “require[s] the system to reduce the required elements in the curriculum” (p. 20). However, this is complicated by virtue of the fact that “operational inertia within the system hinders the ability to change” (p. 26).  This comprehensive affirmation of the “system” [76] can be understood as a functional and strategic means of obscuring the decisions and values of teachers. That is, in ‘activating’ the “system” and passivizing teachers, the text can be found to have constructed a space that “contributes to the elision— and ... thereby to the mystification and obfuscation—of agency and responsibility” (Fairclough, 2003, p. 13). Phrased more succinctly, A Vision for 21st Century Education passivizes social actors to construct a vision of 21CL in which teachers are technicians and agency and desire become narrated onto an intangible and abstract category—“the system.”  Elsewhere the text states that: The purpose of this paper is to provide a vision for the K-12 system in the 21st century. This paper does no address implementation issues but instead investigates what a system might look like should it be transformed. In the knowledge-based society of today the sheer volume of accessible information is greater than ever before and is increasing exponentially. There are also increasing expectations for more open government, education, and society. The Premier’s Technology Council has long advocated that BC take steps to prepare for this global shift. (p. 1, emphasis added)  This extract extends the theme of passivation of social actors within the “system” [76]; but I would most like to draw attention to another facet of the text’s articulation of voice—illustrated by the claim to have “long advocated that BC take steps to prepare for this global shift.” An integral element of this assertion is premised in the need for “BC [to] take steps to prepare.” This is a meaningful example of wordplay via anthropomorphization—the province of B.C. is given the attributes and capacities of a social actor. An effect of this discursive reification of British Columbia is that agency becomes displaced from teachers and other social actors, and diffused within an intangible and abstract concept like ‘province’ or ‘British Columbia.’ This discursively constructs the text’s desire—i.e., “preparing for this global shift”—as commensurable with and reducible to desires of British Columbia. By the same token,  55 this projection of agency masks the naturalization of policy makers as providers of ‘solutions’ which ‘B.C. takes steps to follow.’ That is to say, this sentence expresses style by discursively diminishing social actors’ access to agency and functionally constructs A Vision for 21st Century Education as an unquestionably legitimate vehicle for directing teachers’ work.  Further examples of style expressed as modalization include: “The Premier’s Technology Council (PTC) is not recommending that the existing system be torn apart but it must transform if it is to prepare students to be successful in our rapidly changing world” (p. 6); “the system must put greater emphasis on the learning of skills over the learning of content” (p. 15); and “parents and students must take a more active role in guiding their own education” (p. 16, emphasis added). The first example highlights an element of fatalism (i.e., ‘do X or die’), the second functionally subsumes teachers’ work within an abstraction (i.e., “the system”), and the third locates and naturalizes a view of public education within discourses of customization and consumption. These examples construe a vision of ‘good teaching’ that is motivated by fear and is conscripted by and de-humanized within a “system” of economic values.  A Vision for 21st Century Education uses “must” [37] to circumscribe key facets of teachers’ work. The text argues that: "there are required areas of learning, certain content a student must know and skills a student must have regardless of whether they fall within the student's personal interests" (p. 19); "the content must engage the student by being both interesting and relevant" (p. 15); and "assessment must be timely and appropriate so that students, parents and teachers, can be informed during, not after, learning and in ways that allow for correction and celebration" (p. 22, emphasis added). This reduction of teachers’ work within a discourse of what and how students must learn extends the theme of learnification. Equally important, the text affirms a particular understanding of what and how teachers should teach while reducing the horizons of teachers’ work to what can be counted—accountingization.  The theme of modalized accountingization continues in sections titled “From Testing to Assess to Assessing to Learn” (p. 16) and “Constant Feedback and Assessment” (p. 22). Here it is argued that “technology can provide instant feedback ... to adapt and improve outcomes” (p. 16), “more frequent assessment ... would allow for ... individualized learning path[s]” (p. 22), and that “measurement and assessment must not only be a tool to help the student learn but also to measure achievement for those  56 outside the system, be it post-secondary education institutions or potential employers” (p. 16, emphasis added). Taken in sum, the text makes a strong case for ‘good teaching’ as fixated on what can be counted, and may be taken as expressing a voice that naturalizes teachers’ work as a technical relay for accountingization.  Over and above these points, the prominent usage of “must” extends the preceding analysis of genre (Figure 4) by indicating that the text relies on forceful commands and might rightly be understood as an illustration of what I am calling despotic power: A Vision for 21st Century Education knows and imposes a script, and social actors—e.g. teachers—are compelled to obey. This is the clearest evidence that teachers are conceptualized in A Vision for 21st Century Education as technicians. I defend this assertion in the final section of the chapter.  Pulling these points together: Figure 5 provides a means of understanding style within the text, as well as a basis for arguing that A Vision for 21st Century Education discursively essentializes teachers’ work within an instrumentalist or technical perspective, and (re-)conceptualizes teachers’ work as a relay for learnification and accountingization. 5.2 Interdiscursive analysis: Teachers as technicians or democratic agents?  Attending to elements of style—voice and omission—expressed in the text can help clarify the notion of teacher as technician. Of importance here is relative privileging given to “technology” [51], “change” [16], and “economy” [16], in relation to “democracy” [0] and “equity” [1]. At the same time, it is also important to consider how competition is normalized as ‘common sense’ within A Vision for 21st Century Education. That is, the text argues that “If BC is going to remain competitive” (p. 1), teachers’ work must be “transformed.” In other words, competition acts as one of the primary assumptions animating this vision of 21CL. A minimum consequence of this naturalization of competition is that teachers’ work is transformed into a technical relay to achieve predetermined economic goals.  A Vision for 21st Century Education’s construction of teachers as technicians completely obviates the element of care from teachers’ work. Instead, as was in the preceding analysis of Figures 4 and 5, the text voices—or naturalizes—teachers as mere relays for policy objectives. Specifically, A Vision for 21st  57 Century Education articulates a view of teachers as instrumental conduits for learnification and accountingization. In fact, teachers will be held accountable to a discourse of learnification. This is because the teacher as technician “function[s] like a conduit, channeling the flow of information from one end of the educational spectrum (i.e., the expert) to the other (i.e., the learner) without significantly altering the content of information” (Kumaravadivelu, 2003, p. 8). A consequence of this discursive reduction of ‘good teacher’ and ‘good teaching’ is that teachers’ work is de-coupled from that which cannot be counted and anchored in economic values.  I should clarify that my intention here is neither to challenge the possibility of a link between education and economic profit, nor to question the certainty that students’ will be called upon to make positive impacts—at the micro, macro, and scalar (Lingard and Rawolle, 2009) levels. Further, I have no wish to contest the obvious fact that students’ will need to use information throughout their lives. Rather, what I mean to highlight is the unstated assumption that schooling can and should be equated with mastering skills, as well as the obvious corollary: teachers’ work is (only) appropriately aimed at distributing skills to students. Teachers do much more than that.  I have shown how A Vision for 21st Century Education conveys a style that subordinates teachers’ work beneath the values of policy makers and naturalizes an intensified view of teachers as technicians. As demonstrated above, the text’s style—voice and omission—constructed teachers as hollowed out and value-free relays for policy: (i) passivization and anthropomorphization allow for the wholesale elision of teachers’ voices and values from A Vision for 21st Century Education; (ii) strong modalization is used to naturalize a subjugated construction of teachers vis-à-vis 21CL policy; (iii) occluded agency and mystifying metaphors—e.g. “the system”—functionally deny teachers access to professional or individual agency; and (iv) ‘good teaching’ is articulated within discourses of learnification and accountingization.  With that said, however, there are also elements of the teacher as democratic agent embedded within A Vision for 21st Century Education: teachers are encouraged to stress the importance of civic responsibility, civilized discourse, and students’ role(s) in a democratic society. For instance, the text asserts that “we share a civic responsibility and students must come to understand the importance of  58 civilized discourse on issues and their role in a democratic society” (p. 12). Nevertheless, this emphasis on democratic responsibility is such a minor feature within the text that the appeal rings hollow and instrumental, much like A Vision for 21st Century Education’s construction of teachers. That is to say, the text reduces civic engagement and democratic responsibility to “civilized discourse” (p. 12). As a result, the horizons of teacher as democratic agent becomes (re-)contextualized in accordance with a very particular view of citizenship.  As per Abowitz and Harnish (2006), A Vision for 21st Century Education’s notion of citizenship could be characterized as civic republicanism. From within this frame of understanding citizenship, democratic practice is understood as most appropriately grounded in the maintenance of conservative values and practices. For “civic republicans, citizenship requires identification with and commitment to the political community's goals, gained through the processes of education and active engagement in the democratic process” (p. 658). In other words, for civic republicans the rules of the game are already written, what is true and just are known, and good democratic citizens are defined by acquiescence to the “political community’s goals.”  However, as described in Chapter 2, a view of teachers as democratic agents would foreground teachers’ role(s) in non-repression and democratic deliberation (Gutmann, 1999). That is to say, a view of teachers as democratic agents would forego the temptation to define the goals of others, be grounded in an encouragement to re-write the rules of the game, and express a commitment to the collaborative exploration of the horizons of the true and the (un)known. On this basis, I see little cause for firmly linking the teacher as democratic agent with A Vision for 21st Century Education. Conclusion  As established by the preceding analysis, A Vision for 21st Century Education’s re-imagining of teachers’ work is conveyed by elements of genre and style. In summary, in Chapter 4 I demonstrated that the text may be characterized as rationalized despotism and that it conveys a genre that can be understood as management talk. Building on this point, in Chapter 5 I illustrated how elements of voice and omission conjoin to produce a text’s style. I described how A Vision for 21st Century Education uses wordplay—  59 e.g. passivation and anthropomorphization—to articulate ‘good teachers’ as technical relays for promoting a conception of accountingization, and explained how the text discursively constructs ‘good teaching’ as an intensified version of learnification. I have suggested that this version of ‘good teaching’ is a combination of genre and style, and may be understood as an intensification of teachers as technicians. This discursive construction is hostile to teachers’ agency, disinterested in teachers’ care, and incompatible with teachers’ enactments of democratic deliberation.  60 Chapter 6 Concluding thoughts and arrows in the dark The work of an intellectual is not to shape others’ political will; it is, through the analyses that he [sic] carries out in his own field, to question over and over again what is postulated as self- evident, to disturb people’s mental habits, the way they do and think things, to dissipate what is familiar and accepted, to re-examine rules and institutions, and on the basis of this reproblematisation ... to participate in the formation of a political will[.] (Foucault, 1988, p. 265) To conclude, I re-substantiate the preceding analysis by situating A Vision for 21st Century Education (PTC, 2010) within a broader understanding of historical and contemporary education policy in North America. Afterwards, I speak to the question of what the present study did and did not do. This includes a brief summary of key findings and an attempt to highlight limitations within the study; as well as a discussion of  recommendations (for policy and practice) and an appeal for further research. 6.1 21st-century learning: New bottle, old w(h)ine  A Vision for 21st Century Education is misapprehended as a localized or contemporary agenda. For one thing, as discussed in Chapters 1 and 2, 21CL draws on globalized discourses and is best understood as an example of scalar politics (Lingard and Rawolle, 2009). A Vision for 21st Century Education describes 21CL as “transformational” and constructs a field of commensurability in which education policy in B.C. is (re-)contextualized within a globalized ‘knowledge-based economy’ discourse. Beneath a veneer of ‘newness,’ however, lurks a long and intensifying process of re-visioning teachers’ work as an relay for the desires and values of policy makers. That is to say, the text’s approach to 21CL can and should be recognized as a recent but by no means new example of policy which constructs teachers as instruments to be wielded in pursuit of externally imposed values.  A year following the U.S.S.R.’s launch of Sputnik 1 in 1957, the United States passed the National Defense Education Act. This policy provided public schools with incrementally increasing funding for four years, and was a response to policy makers’ sense that the U.S. was ‘falling behind’ the ‘Soviet threat.’ In this instance policy makers in the U.S. drew on nationalism and fear to push for an infusion of emphasis on math and science in public schools (Johanningmeier, 2010). That is, the thrust of  61 the policy was to wield teachers as vehicles for achieving particular ends: global superiority—or hegemony, depending on perspective.  Some years later, in 1983, Ronald Reagan’s National Commission on Excellence in Education released its landmark report, A Nation at Risk. In this report schools were characterized as ‘failing the nation,’ and teachers were constructed as ‘problems’ and in need of State-imposed remediation. For instance, the commission not only claimed that “the educational foundations of our society are presently being eroded by a rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our very future as a Nation and a people,” but also provocatively argued that if an “unfriendly foreign power had attempted to impose on America the mediocre educational performance that exists today, we might well have viewed it as an act of war” (National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1983, p. 3). In particular, the report insisted that strong and decisive steps needed to be taken to secure the United States’ economic competitiveness (Vinovskis, 2008). Specifically, public education in the United States was (re-)contextualized “through the language of global business and military competition” to “redefin[e] education for the corporate good rather than the public good” (Saltman and Gabbard, 2011, p. 4). From within this frame, teachers’ work is defined by an anti-critical following of authority; knowledge becomes mistakenly presented as value-free units to be mechanically deposited; schooling models the new social logic that emphasizes economic social mobility rather than social transformation—that is, it perceives society as a flawed yet unchangeable situation into which individuals should seek assimilation[.] (Saltman and Gabbard, 2011, p. 5)  More recent examples of United States’ policies which instrumentalize teachers’ work include 2001’s No Child Left Behind, and 2009’s Race to the Top. Both policies are grounded in crisis narratives and managerialize ‘problems’ and ‘solutions’ with public education in the U.S. George Bush’s No Child Left Behind, for example, identified ‘low standards’ and ‘low quality teaching’ as targets for State- imposed ‘solutions.’ Policy analysts have described No Child Left Behind as a “neoliberal repackaging of Social Darwinism” (Leyva, 2009, p. 364). It called for annual testing, ‘improved’ teaching qualifications, and significantly expanded the federal role in public education. In like manner, Barack Obama’s Race to  62 the Top linked federal funding for public schools with compliance to ‘performance-based standards’ and has been described as ‘capitalizing on disaster’ (Saltman, 2007).  A growing body of research has shown that as schools have been pushed to compete for and achieve more with less resources, ‘achievement gaps’ have been reified, not diminished (Gillborn and Youdell, 2000). Indeed, as per Figure 1, it is also likely that these policies have led to an increase in school conflict, and have aggravated teacher stress and turn-over (Smollin, 2011). Meanwhile, there is little evidence that any of these policies have positively impacted on ‘achievement gaps.’ In fact, much like in B.C. (B.C. Stats, 2012), there are clear and unmistakable indications that inequality is becoming more of a problem in the U.S., not less (Jank and Owens, 2012). Even so, a consistent theme which has linked each of these reforms is that policy makers have acted as ‘all-knowing’ and legitimate sources for guiding key dimensions of education policy.13  The preceding passages are intended to assist in de-parochializing my study while adding key historical context, and illustrate that in affirming 21CL and idealizing the ‘knowledge-based economy’ A Vision for 21st Century Education extends an international agenda while carrying forward the long and problematic history of politically motivated crisis-driven narratives of education reform. Not only does the text’s vision of 21CL impose a narrow construction of teachers’ work onto teachers while excluding the voices and values of teachers, but it also undervalues and ignores democratic values like social justice, equity, and the common good.14  At the same time, it should be noted that A Vision for 21st Century Education is doubly problematic in that it completely avoids any substantive discussion of resourcing or ‘building capacity’ for its vision. It is somewhat unlikely that teachers will “transform” their practice based on the directives  63 13 The concern for policy makers’ ideological and epistemological investments was shared by the philosopher Gilles Deleuze (1990), who insisted that: “There are therefore two errors which in truth are one and the same: the error of reformism or technocracy, which aspires to promote or impose partial arrangements of social relations according to the rhythm of technical achievements; and the error of totalitarianism, which aspires to constitute a totalization of the signifiable and the known, according to the rhythm of the social totality existing at a given moment. The technocrat is the natural friend of the dictator” (p. 49). It would appear that both errors are applicable to A Vision for 21st Century Education: It falls to the error of reformism in that it is under-theorized and instrumental, and it falls to the error of totalitarianism by constructing and imposing a view of ‘good teaching’ that excludes the voices and values of teachers. 14 Here I am reminded of Deleuze and Guattari (1983), who insist that “It is not the slumber of reason that engenders monsters, but vigilant and insomniac rationality” (p. 112). of policy makers. That is to say, teachers have pressing material concerns which constrain their work, and there is no meaningful accommodation for or awareness of the scope and importance of these needs within the text’s vision of 21CL. It should not be forgotten that B.C. has the dubious distinction of having consistently had one of the highest child poverty rates in Canada for decades (First Call, 2011). On this basis alone, it seems unlikely that B.C.’s teachers will reliably prioritize a reform agenda that lacks resourcing while intensifying their work. 6.2 Overview of findings: 21CL, as refracted through the researcher’s Mirror of Erised Figure 6: Summarizing research questions and assertions  64  Figure 6 consolidates the study’s findings, and foregrounds facets of A Vision for 21st Century Education that may be generalizable to similar education policy agendas. For instance, the impacts of technology, the pursuit of competitive advantage, and the needs of the knowledge-based economy are increasingly common assumptions which guide the development of education policies across the globe. In addition, many policies employ rhetorical tactics like passivization, anthropomorphization, and mystifying metaphors to obscure agency and privilege the truths of policy makers. As per the preceding analysis, I believe it is possible that other policies which employ these features may naturalize a comprehensive subordination of teachers’ work beneath the values of policy makers.  One of the primary assumptions of the current study has been the claim that policy is central to the life and work of teachers. In Chapter 2 I described policies as discourses which act as condensations of power, and identified the relational, emotional, and performative effects of that are likely to follow from ostracizing teachers from meaningful influence in the development of policies which guide their work (Figure 1). With this context established, in Chapters 4 and 5 I illustrated how A Vision for 21st Century Education articulates a vision of ‘good teaching’ as a relay for learnification and accountingization. Having analyzed constitutive elements, word choice, conceptual investments, genre and style, and discursive constructions of teachers’ work in A Vision for 21st Century Education, I found ample evidence for asserting that the text privileges a conception of ‘good teaching’ that represents a de- valuation of teachers’ work. From here I historicized A Vision for 21st Century Education, and characterized it as a localized iteration of what might rightly be called a ‘prevailing trend’ of education policies that reduce and diminish the role of teachers’ work.  Above and beyond these points, it is also important to link A Vision for 21st Century Education’s re-imagining of teachers’ work with the de-politicization of teachers. That is to say, policies that attempt to hold teachers accountable to constructions of ‘good teaching’ that are little more than hollowed out conduits for policy makers’ desires may function as a means of naturalizing teachers into docility. If so, it is likely that 21CL will provoke some teachers to engage in more or less uncoordinated forms of principled resistance (Achinstein and Ogawa, 2006); and that other teachers may fall victim to “epistemic suicide” (Webb, 2007), and/or “values schizophrenia” (Ball, 2006a).  65  Having said that, I believe a meaningful consequence of A Vision for 21st Century Education’s (re-)conceptualization of teachers as technicians is that teachers in B.C. might be understood as under attack and “terrorized” (Ball, 2003). That being the case, I would suggest that there is a broad need for teachers to actively pursue tools and lenses for analyzing policies, and to collectively strategize methods of resisting policies which undermine their agency and productive capacities. The present study has attempted to accommodate for and contribute to these needs by thoroughly illustrating the power and accessibility of content analysis and key elements of Fairclough’s (2003) approach to discourse analysis. That is to say, in this study I have advanced a somewhat idiosyncratic approach to discourse analysis with the aim of offering qualitative researchers, education policy analysts, and teachers methodological tools which make it possible to not only critically theorize policies, but also allow for the de-parochialization of policy studies. More simply, I have suggested that the approach to discourse analysis used within the current study offers accessible and strategic resources for (de/re)-contextualizing the policies which constrain the horizons of teachers’ work. 6.3 Foregrounding limitations, gaps, and holes  As explained in Chapter 1, the central orienting features of A Vision for 21st Century Education are archetypal, and this study is assumed to have a high degree of generalizability. Even so, there are very meaningful limits on what the study did and did not do.  Firstly, this study singularly focused on a particular policy text, and in so doing I functionally elided the voices and lived experiences of teachers, policy makers, and other social actors. Although I considered this omission as a critical flaw, in this case the decision to focus on a single text seemed particularly justified—given that no previous attempts had been made to theorize or analyze the discursive investments of 21CL.  Secondly, the current study lacked any engagement with enactments of 21CL. According to Ball, Maguire and Braun (2012), policy enactments consist of interpretations, translations, and performances. The authors clarify by adding that enactments  66 take place at many moments, in various sites, in diverse forms, in many combinations and interplays. Enactments are creative and constrained and are made up of unstable juggling between irreconcilable priorities, impossible workloads, satisficing moves and personal enthusiasms. Enactments are always more than just implementation, they bring together contextual, historic and psychosocial dynamics into a relation with texts and imperatives to produce action and activities that are policy. (p. 71) Nonetheless, the current study more or less ignored how 21CL is taken up by teachers. While I did provide contexts for understanding teachers’ relationships with policies, I did not include any consideration of how actual teachers filter and navigate the (re-)production of 21CL. Again, this decision was made in the belief that 21CL’s (re-)conceptualization of teachers’ work needed to be well-theorized before it would be possible to meaningfully analyze the impacts of 21CL. My suggestions for further research on 21CL are intended to address these limitations. 6.4 Recommendations for further research: Policy analysis as a game of kick the can  Although the present study began with the assumption that (re-)constructing teachers’ work was a central feature of A Vision for 21st Century Education, it is fair to say that a variety of other facets of 21CL are also worthy of further study. For instance, instead of focusing on constructions of teachers, I might have used discourse analysis to study the text’s (re-)conceptualization of students—or parents. Similarly, I might have drawn on discourse analysis to theorize agency or power in the text’s vision of 21CL. In addition to alternative applications of discourse analysis, however, I would also like to suggest that 21CL is an ideal target for curricular analysis, policy network analysis, and/or a study that includes interviews with teachers.  Michael Apple (2004) has described curriculum analysis as a means of developing “collective capacities among people to enable them to engage in the democratic administration and control of their lives” (p. xiv). From a similar disposition, the curricular scholar Wayne Au (2012) understands curricular analysis as most appropriately focusing on the question of what counts as “official knowledge.” He suggests that critical curricular research encompasses theoretical and epistemological underpinnings and  67 helps us to “think about the relationship [between] society, knowledge, and persons in more nuanced ways” (p. xv). Owing to the fact that the push for 21CL has been accompanied by a lucrative and burgeoning market of 21CL-related ‘educational products,’ a curricular analysis would likely reveal the particular discursive values embedded within 21CL’s (re-)conceptualization of citizenship. More broadly, a curricular analysis of 21CL may more firmly link the 21CL policy agenda with concrete products that are intended for classroom use.  In recognition of 21CL’s scalar frame of reference, I would suggest it as an ideal target of a network analysis. From this perspective policy consists of networks which are seen as “sets of formal institutional and informal linkages between governmental and other actors structured around shared if endlessly negotiated beliefs and interests” (Rhodes, 2006, p. 426). A policy network analysis would make it possible to map the various interests and relationships which underly the global push for skills-driven education reform. By the same token, a policy network analysis could map the historical progression of 21CL, and/or concretize the linkages which underly the adoption of 21CL as a ‘solution’ to the ‘problem’ of public education in both local and global policy arenas.  Lastly, to accommodate for the need for theorizing 21CL as a lived experience, I would suggest that the policy agenda is an outstanding target for a study that includes interviews with teachers. Kvale and Brinkmann (2009) argue that “the social practice of research interviewing may become a form of democratic practice that can be used to help create a free democratic society” (p. 311). In this case, a study of 21CL that drew on interviews with teachers could provide a window into teachers’ understandings of their work in relation to a ‘21st-century’ vision of ‘good teaching.’ This would make it possible to map the distances between the values embedded in 21CL policy and the values that guide teachers’ work.  68 6.5 Suggestions for policy and practice: Appeals and arrows              In the course of conducting this study of A Vision for 21st Century Education’s construction of teachers’ work, I found cause for making recommendations for policy makers and teachers. On a basic level these recommendations consist of: (i) aligning education policies with a view of ‘good teaching’ that is consistent with teachers’ democratic responsibility; (ii) encouraging teachers to find ways of subverting policies which instrumentalize their work.  With regard to policies, I found reason to see instrumentalist approaches to teachers’ work as acts of terrorism, and found ample evidence for asserting that teachers must have meaningful influence over policies that regulate the horizons of their work. No less important, I would suggest that policies should not reify teachers’ work as a thing to be consumed or a private experience to be had. Instead, education policies should be firmly grounded in a vision of ‘good teaching’ as a public good. By linking teachers’ work with the public good, education policies can become more affirmative of democratic values. In particular, I would suggest that education policies could better naturalize democratic values by adopting an emphasis on critical citizenship practices. Critical citizenship practices “focus specifically on exclusions based on gender, culture, ethnicity, nationality, race, sexuality, [and] socioeconomic class” (Abowitz and Harnish, 2006, p. 666). Policies which affirmed critical citizenship practices would (i) encourage the critical assessment of social, political and economic structures to see beyond surface causes; (ii) encourage a moral order in which injustices were pursued with more vigor than profit; and (iii) question the structures which reproduce and aggravate social problems (Westheimer and Kahne, 2004, p. 240). I assume that if policy makers were to privilege these values over economic ones, public education might more reliably bring us to a more equitable otherwise.  I also found reason to emphasize the importance of teachers’ resistance to the siren call of deceptively packaged policies. In particular, I would suggest that teachers should be wary of 21CL- themed (re-)conceptualizations of public education. At the same time, teachers should be encouraged to actively take steps to stymie the essentialization of public education as learnification and accountingization. Given that reductive conceptualizations of teachers’ work are—at least in part—driven by scalar processes, it is also vital that teachers link the local with the global, and de-parochialize their  69 awareness of education policies. To accomplish this, I would suggest that teachers find de-nationalized vehicles for practicing resistance and experiencing solidarity. For instance, teachers can make use of social media services like Twitter, FaceBook, and YouTube to connect with teachers all over the world who struggle under policies that devalue their work. In so doing, teachers can escape the sense that their dilemma is a local one, and begin to build bridges which may lead to brighter futures.  To close, I would like to unsettle any simplistic reduction of the current study to a series of ‘problems’ and ‘solutions.’ I did not set out to find an ‘answer’ to the ‘problem’ of 21CL in B.C. 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