IN THE NAME OF DEMOCRACY: THE WORK OF WOMEN TEACHERS IN TORONTO AND VANCOUVER, 1945-1960 by KRISTINA R. LLEWELLYN M.A., Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University of Toronto, 2002 B.Ed., Queen's University, 2000 B.A. (Honours), Queen's University, 1999 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES Educational Studies THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA July, 2006 © Kristina R. Llewellyn, 2006 Abstract In the Name of Democracy: The Work of Women Teachers in Toronto and Vancouver, 1945-1960, examines the limits of educational 'democracy' for women educators. Educational administrators across the political spectrum assumed separate spheres to be intrinsic to the social contract for 'good' citizenship: the school as a public institution was dedicated to the rational, autonomous, politically engaged subject. 'Woman' was not that subject. This thesis demonstrates that women were quasi-citizens in the public school, yet leaders in the delivery of democratic hope for the age. On the one hand, women teachers were encouraged to participate in the increasingly 'democratized' institution of the public secondary school and were embraced as necessary participants in the labour market of the education system. In the years after the Second Great War, the reconstitution of the social order depended upon their performance. On the other hand, the maintenance of traditional gender roles, disrupted by the trauma of war, was still heralded as women's primary contribution to the nation's stability. While women teachers acted within public institutions, their role remained defined by their private sphere 'capabilities' and a gendered model of citizenship that promised security through the performance of educational 'democracy.' This thesis employs a feminist analysis that centers on women teachers' oral histories to illuminate both the normative democratic order of the period and the ways that women negotiated its boundaries. In particular, it combines modernist concerns for social structure and common oppression with poststructuralism's concern for hierarchies of identification and difference. Both the common and discrete experiences of women teachers reveal that educational 'democracy' was far from gender-blind in post-war Canada. n Table of Contents Abstract . . . . . i i Table of Contents i i i Acknowledgements iv Introduction Women Teachers, Democracy and Canada's Educational Past 1 Chapter 1 Productive Tensions: Feminist Readings of Women Teachers' Oral Histories 26 Chapter 2 The Post-WWII Objectives for Educational 'Democracy' in Secondary Schools 55 Chapter 3 'Democratic' Knowledge, Teacher Professionalism, and the 'Female' Weak Link 116 Chapter 4 Performing Post-war Citizenship: Moral 'Democracy' and the 'Woman' Teacher 161 Chapter 5 More Responsibility, Less Power: A Gendered Participatory 'Democracy' for Schools...201 Conclusion 246 Bibliography 252 Appendix I Biographical Sketches of Interviewees .277 Appendix II Contact Letter to Interviewees 292 Appendix III Consent Form 295 Appendix IV Interview Guide.. 299 in Acknowledgements I was extremely fortunate to have many people guide me through the journey to doctoral completion. This journey has meant not only producing this thesis, but developing my political and private identity as a scholar. Each member of my supervising committee is a remarkable model for women in academia. My supervisor, Veronica Strong-Boag, conveys not only strength of scholarship, but character as she has continued to support all areas of my progress during very difficult times for her family. She has always exhibited a quiet confidence in my ability to succeed, while challenging me to embrace opportunities for teaching and publishing. Her detailed readings of earlier thesis drafts were invaluable. Mona Gleason also provided a careful reading, with thoughtful suggestions that made this thesis that much stronger. Mona is an incredible source of motivation as she balances rigorous scholarship with good humour and a positive approach to life. Jean Barman demonstrates unwavering commitment to student productivity and creativity. Despite retiring from the Faculty, Jean did not compromise her support of my work. She guided me through even the smallest details of writing. Nikki, Mona and Jean are a true team of mentors that every doctoral student wishes for in their journey. I was also fortunate to work and live in collegial environments at UBC. Green College was a unique residence where a vibrant community of inter-disciplinary scholars engaged in my research. I am grateful to many of these scholars for their encouragement and friendship. The Centre for Research in Women's Studies and Gender Relations, where I had the privilege to teach, is a nurturing and energetic space for new scholars. I appreciated being among academics who made teaching a priority. iv This research could not have been without the participation of the women interviewed. They were more than generous with their time, homes, and memories. I am grateful for their trust in me as a researcher and I admire their contributions to Canada's education systems. I also extend appreciation to the many teachers, administrators and women who took an early interest in this project and put me in touch with the women interviewed. This research was also made possible by staff at numerous libraries and archives. In Toronto, archivists at the Toronto Board of Education and with GTSE/UT's historical collection were welcoming and attentive to my research needs. Staff at the Vancouver City Archives and those with the British Columbia Teachers' Federation, particularly the records manager David Stange, went above and beyond their jobs to ensure my research went smoothly and was comprehensive. I had the privilege of time for this research because of the financial support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Counci l o f Canada. It is my family to whom I must offer the greatest acknowledgement o f thanks. Their support is not something I can adequately represent in this forum. I recognize in particular the gifts of my grandmother, Jean MacKay , who died in September. She passed on to me her own dreams of higher education and embodied a feminine spirit o f caring and fortitude within community that I wi l l forever attempt to emulate. She allowed me to conduct my first oral history with her over nine years ago, and that interview is a lasting treasure for our family. M y grandfather, Raymond MacKay , who passed away in May , trained me in the art of listening and telling stories from a very young age. He was what I like to think of as an 'everyday' historian. He valued on a daily basis the lessons of his own past, remembrances of our family's experiences, and memories of the nation's development. v M y parents, Karen M a c K a y Llewellyn and Hallett Llewellyn, have lived the joys and frustrations of this doctoral journey every step of the way. They have expressed unconditional love with countless conversations on my research, readings o f thesis drafts, and faithful emotional assurances. I have learned from their life's work the fulfillment people can derive from passionate, political engagement in issues of social justice. M y admiration, love, and appreciation for them run deep. These emotions follow for my sister Jennifer Llewellyn, brother-in-law Blake Brown and nephew Owen Llewellyn-Brown. Jennifer is an inspiring example of an academic committed to social change in our society. She is equally devoted to her family. I have relied upon her encouragement and friendship throughout this process. The love of my partner o f eleven years, Todd Arsenault, ensured my dedication to doctoral studies. He is a uniquely giving person who finds every joy in life and shares those joys with his loved ones. With many library trips, walks for a break from writing, and discussions of my work, he has supported, and continues to support, my commitment to feminist research and activism. With the love of my family and friends, my journey as a feminist scholar has just begun. v i Introduction Women Teachers, Democracy and Canada's Educational History The work of women teachers in post-WWII secondary schools reveals the limits of Canadian democracy. On the one hand, women teachers were encouraged to participate in the increasingly 'democratized' institution of the public secondary school and embraced as necessary participants in the labour market of the education system. The reconstitution of the normal post-war social order depended upon their performance. On the other hand, traditional gender roles, disrupted by the trauma o f war, were still heralded as women's primary contribution to the nation's stability. While women teachers acted within public institutions, their role remained defined by their private sphere 'capabilities' and gendered model of citizenship that promised security through the performance o f educational 'democracy.' In the 1940s and 1950s Canada's schools embraced democracy as their primary goal. A t the beginning of the twenty-first century, that spirit seems to have returned. In response to perceived threats to national and global security political officials' and school administrators' once again heighten the rhetoric of egalitarian rule, and tout policies for equal educational opportunities. Democracy is far more than a constitutional, legal, and political arrangement. It is also a social contract that presumes a common citizenship that transcends differences, including those based on class, race, ethnicity, sexuality, and gender. The public school, particularly at the secondary level, has been and is responsible for producing that binding social contract among the nation's future adults. Its role extends beyond teaching a particular political system. Students are to acquire and practice the 1 knowledge, values, and attitudes, consistent with state laws and regulations, to live democratically. 1 A s it was understood and practiced in the years after WWII , educational democracy failed often to deliver the fundamental freedoms to students, teachers, or community. The reason is the dominant liberal ideology of the day, an abstract concept of state citizenship that proffered anyone could have an equal part as participants. A s historians have revealed concerning Canada's past, it has been only those with privileged identities, including dominant masculinities, who had the power to assume the place of legitimate citizen. Our schools were part of perpetuating this 'nameless, faceless entity' that attempted to mask systemic inequalities of 'the people' for the nation. Women, along with groups identified as 'Other,' were deeply affected by these abstract notions. A n examination o f women teachers in post-WWII illustrates how educational democracy has too often failed to deliver on the promises of freedom, autonomy, and equality. This thesis aims to provide an empirical application of the work o f feminist theorists, from political science to sociology, who in the late twentieth-century challenged historical definitions of gendered citizenship. This study also draws upon recent studies by feminist scholars of education who examine how schooling shapes the concept o f democracy and citizenship identities according to gender and in relation to diverse social locations. This project does not offer a development of political theory for women in a governing order. Instead, it draws upon the comprehensive and critical analysis of the relationship among gender, education and democracy provided by feminist theorists.3 The growing body o f research in this field has informed the framework and questions I have employed in my appraisal of women teachers in Canada's post-war liberal educational 'democracy.' 2 Noteworthy among this field are Carole Pateman's texts, from The Sexual Contract to The Disorder of Women. They provide the most influential theoretical depictions of the centrality of the masculine citizen in the liberal democratic project.4 Pateman argues that the democratic social contract, constructed by European political philosophers, was founded upon a sexual contract based on the distinction between public and private spheres. In this contract, women's sexual, economic and political agency is dependent upon and excluded from men's prevailing power in the public world. Western philosophical tradition asserted that the public/private divide was the 'natural order.' Women's 'inherent' concerns for family, and thus women's agency itself, are almost like a sideshow, albeit always critical, to public debates and the determination of national citizenship. A number of feminist scholars, including Anne Phillips, have joined Pateman to show that the production of the masculine as synonymous with citizen has not simply resulted in women's exclusion from the state, but their simultaneous 'secondary' inclusion. 5 Women are a critical 'Other' in substantiating the basis for ideal citizenship, namely, the rational, objective, politically autonomous individual, the alpha male who can freely contribute to the production of a democratic order. The "universal, faceless historical citizen of public discourse was almost universally male" as the supposed sexual, weak, and irrational 'Woman' could not, as decreed by nature itself, support roles beyond the private sphere.6 Promises of autonomy, freedom and equal membership within community do not then cut across the hierarchical structure of a diverse society. 7 Instead, women, and others who cannot prescribe to dominant conceptions of masculinity, are marginalized. Feminist researchers, in particular socialist, post-colonial and lesbian scholars, have been particularly attuned to the need for complicating the public/private divide, illustrating that women, among themselves, live the effects of gender binaries in very different ways. 3 Nira Yuval-Davis argues that nationalist rhetoric of democratic order not only legitimates the dominance of male super-ordinance, but circumscribes all those who position themselves, or are positioned, by cultural renderings of gender on the margins of the state, as 'non-citizens.' She writes: "the study o f citizenship should consider the issue o f women's citizenship not only by contrast to that of men, but also in relation to women's affiliation to dominant or subordinate groups, their ethnicity, origin, and urban or rural residence." 9 Pateman explains that social contract theory was most influential in shaping social institutions from the 1840s to 1970s. Thereafter, social movements mobilized to fight for diversity of political representation and voice . 1 0 Feminist scholars of education have shown the long-lasting implications for schooling. Liberal democracy's conception of privacy, sexuality and marriage, as related to gender binaries, has significantly shaped contemporary education systems, framed as they are by public discourses of nationalist citizenship. 1 1 Studies now examine pedagogy as a tool for deconstructing phallocentric knowledge or social interactions in the classroom, the school's disciplining of the student body for particular subjectivities, specifically hetero-normativity, and the regulation o f gender through selective educational reforms and accountability measures. 1 2 In the course of their investigations, researchers have addressed the ways students, and the school community, are exposed to definitions of ' the ideal citizen' from textbooks to technology. These then construct their view o f political agency within the gendered civic sphere. Female students and their women teachers learn the limitations of their political participation. Democracy in the Kitchen by Valerie Walkerdine and Helen Lucey, and Jo-Anne Dillabough's investigations of the construction of the modern teacher, have particular relevance for this thesis. They are each concerned with Pateman's public/private split for British schooling of 'democratic' identities and the woman teacher's role in that process. 4 Walkerdine and Lucey provide a post-structuralist analysis o f equal opportunities rhetoric from the post-war period to the 1980s. 1 3 They argue that 'democratic' education produces regulatory fictions, such as choice and autonomy, which subordinate social identities that do not produce 'the right citizen': the ideal bourgeois male. Children learn illusions o f their 'free-will, ' a non-coercive technique to manage a citizenry, from mothers and women teachers who, as 'naturally' non-authoritarian nurturers, are responsible for safeguarding masculine models o f democracy that subordinate female political, social and professional powers. Jo-Anne Dillabough builds upon these insights with a closer examination of the political identification o f women teachers. 1 4 She examines teacher educators' memories of the lived experiences of regulatory citizenship and explores the way women lived the paradox of being socially constructed as 'non-citizens,' due to their domestic ties, yet simultaneously responsible for the socialization of a new generation of citizens in the service profession o f teaching. The importance o f investigations by Walkerdine and Lucey and Dillabough lies in their analysis of the symbolic, discursive practices and social, structural constraints of masculine narratives of democracy. More significantly, they ask how these narratives intersect with those individuals, particularly women, who are charged with l iving out and/or reproducing that citizenship. This thesis uses their conceptual lenses to analyze the under-explored relationship between the governance o f gendered identities in Canadian education and women's shifting experiences of that governance. The pages that follow offer an educational history that deconstructs a contextually and temporally specific invocation of 'democracy.' It simultaneously builds on and challenges the often abstract dimension of the concept of democracy, which attempts to mask its hegemonic power inequalities. I examine Canadian 'egalitarianism' rhetoric from 5 1945 to 1960, a period especially preoccupied with the question of national identity. More specifically, I look to Vancouver and Toronto public secondary schools, which provide a regional comparison of nationalist rhetoric through the country's two largest English school boards. Although national discussions of education often include all levels of schooling, this work targets the objectives for secondary schools, the primary sites for citizenship gate-keeping. The secondary school was critical to ensuring collective security through its assumption o f the superiority of Western political rule. In worried acknowledgement of this key function, Z . S. Phimister, Superintendent and Chief Inspector o f Schools in Toronto, noted in 1947 that: "People turn to the school after the war.. . in the faint hope that the school may be able to do something which w i l l make it possible for the next generation to avoid another calamity." 1 5 M y analysis seeks to explain this hope and asks: how was educational 'democracy' constructed as a universalizing narrative, and what were its specific meanings for the agenda o f post-war schools? How did official, educational and academic discourses construct privileged identities of citizenship and insert them into secondary schools, an increasingly common experience for Canadian youth, in the name of 'democracy?' More specifically, how were 'master' narratives of 'democracy' gendered? 'Officials ' narratives are understood in this thesis in relation to women teachers' oral histories. 1 6 The latter illustrate how women teachers saw themselves positioned as marginalized, 'private' representatives for democracy, and, contradictorily, included as potential agents of change in the production of the 'egalitarian' platform for the school and the nation. In its centering of female professionals, this thesis poses the questions: how did masculine constructions of educational 'democracy' function for women teachers whose capacity for authority and political power were tenuous in the post-war context? At a practical level, how did women teachers reconcile their public duty as agents for citizenship 6 with a femininity relegated to the private sphere? How were the gendered contradictions these women experienced characterized by their social status of marriage, age, region, class, sexuality and ethnicity, and affected by the subject matter, credentials, and promotion of their school-bound status? In sum, In the Name of Democracy, addresses the shifts in educational discourse and policy that occurred after the Second World War. What in other words happened to a 'master' narrative of masculine normality, which shaped the teaching of democratic order for the next generation of Canadian citizenry? In deconstructing the multiple messages of these years, this thesis seeks to illuminate both the normative democratic order and the ways that women teachers negotiated its boundaries. I argue that democracy was a regulatory discourse for women's lives despite the very contested and complex messages it enveloped. Regulatory discourses are, as Michel Foucault argues and feminist scholars have illuminated, historically contingent strategies, whereby processes of differentiation and homogenizing label some qualities as good and others as bad. 1 7 If a regulatory discourse is successful then it becomes, as Antonio Gramsci argues, hegemonic. Hegemony favours a ruling group, who, though not always consciously, manufactures seemingly spontaneous consent from subordinate groups to guarantee social 18 order. In order for discourses to be hegemonic, Gramsci notes they must contain conflicts by addressing counter-hegemonic ideals within the dominant consent. 1 9 The boundaries of a legitimate social order, in this case 'democracy,' are unstable, temporary, transgressive and produce conflicting meanings. Within the context of post-war reconstruction, efforts to put forth a stable and, thus, 'superior' democratic nation necessarily embodied the consolidation of dissenting or conflicting ideals. Transgressive boundaries became an inherent part of a post-war national social order that sought stability. In other words, the deviant or the 7 forbidden were regularly in plain sight as their very existence was employed to justify the status quo. Andrew Ross argues that no period better exhibits the creation of consensus described by Gramsci's concept o f hegemony than the decades after the Second World War 20 in the United States. The same can be said o f Canada. This 'freedom' era is at times memorialized as a golden period in our collective memory. Cold War atomic threats, global decolonization movements, and agitations for c ivi l rights sometimes barely seem to disturb the intrinsic harmony. Canadian historians have begun, however, to explore the inequities of the post-war era with its heightened popularity for ' l iberal ' democracy. Shirley Tillotson and Mona Gleason, among others, have demonstrated that the popularization of liberal 'democratic' rhetoric emerged as a national internal defense against the uncertainties o f the age. 2 1 These changes were the basis for the ' C o l d War mentality' o f the era by which social authorities forwarded an agenda that acquiesced to reform in so far as it contained dissension and radicalism. The primary model of internal defense was to champion national 'togetherness' under the liberal pluralist banner of a fully democratic, egalitarian nation. 2 2 'Commonality' and 'stability' were defined according to a desired, hegemonic 'norm': English, middle class, white, Protestant, and heterosexual citizenship. Even as state reforms moved towards equity in the name o f a stable and free nation, their invocation remained firmly set within conservative ideals. Various scholars have noted that the post-war Canadian government sought to ensure public entitlements, including renewed social security initiatives, such as health insurance, unemployment insurance, and 23 workmen's compensation. These initiatives included specific promises to women, including fair remuneration and the elimination o f a marriage bar for female civic employees. Such Fordism, however, was premised on the independence of the private realm 8 of the family, which was still very much consigned to women as the mothers of the nation. B y definition women could only be quasi-citizens and thus secondary workers in the public world o f liberties. M e n were, by contrast, long-term participants in the labour market with rights to authority and knowledge in the public wor ld . 2 5 Given the citizenship function of the secondary school, objectives for education reflected the progressive-conservatism of state initiatives. A s such, a gender hierarchy, marked by class, race and sexuality was an implicit part o f the educational agenda for 'democracy.' The woman teacher, as quasi-citizen, was designated a limited role in the implementation of this agenda. L ike their treatment of the post-WWII period generally, historians have not typically highlighted change from the traditional patterns of schooling. 2 6 Shifts toward the democratization of education are often characterized as the influence o f progressivism. There is a need to go beyond the typical progressive/traditional debate; adherents to both theories of education embraced post-war 'democratic' rhetoric as the primary lesson for secondary schools. While these theories were certainly incompatible in many ways, their commonalities were pronounced for educators as they upheld the nation's liberal social order and its conservative ideal o f citizenship. Secondary schools in Vancouver and Toronto responded to hegemonic and national calls for 'democratization.' Major trends included: increased universal access to secondary education, with streamed programming to address individual learning needs; a growth in social services for character education within the school; and increased participation by each member of the school community, through decentralized decision-making initiatives. These reforms were the school's visible commitment to equal opportunity, freedom of personal expression and individual political autonomy. The ideal citizen produced through this programming was a knowledgeable worker who, through self-governance and the needs o f 9 the state, practiced Christian, capitalist, nuclear family values. Educational administrators across the political spectrum affirmed the separate spheres of the social contract for 'good' citizenship: the school as a public institution was dedicated to the rational, autonomous, politically engaged subject. 'Woman ' was not that subject. Women were critical to the nuclear family, and thus private creatures who, obligated to children and husbands, could not be astute political representatives o f the public, democratic world. Women teachers therefore were symbolically excluded from educational 'democracy.' Most school officials characterized them as tenuous professionals, with a fundamental lack of commitment to public life and the potential irrationality of the 'weaker' sex. A t the same time, they were included not only as necessary workers during a labour shortage, but as the 'motherly' guardians of'democratic' moral order. A s 'angels' in a modern school house, school officials idealized the service of women teachers' work even as they left the real power to produce and manage educational democracy to rational, autonomous public men. Women's oral histories illustrate localized forms o f marginalization. Even years later, the women interviewed negotiate the prevailing acceptance of the post-war abstract idea of women's inferiority within 'democratic' education. Specifically, they comment on professional discourses that barred them from knowledge claims and promotional credentials. They also speak to intense surveillance of their 'moral ' life choices, especially marriage and motherhood, and their physical appearance. Instances o f commonality, quite often in the oral histories, exhibit the point at which national discourses meet the local gender subjectivities. A s such, the women speak to public policies of gender discrimination as they relate to more innocuous forms of discrimination concerning the 'private' realm. They reveal, for example, how their choice o f dress was part of character education and symbolic o f the nation's faith in heterosexual coupling for social stability. Their oral 10 histories also present individual variations, shaped by their specific positions in Vancouver and Toronto secondary schools. The women who possessed graduate degrees, rather than temporary certificates, were more confident in their claims to a 'masculine,' detached and rational model of professionalism. Stories also demonstrate isolated cases o f overt discrimination, which differed according to social locations; primarily the interviewees are white, urban and middle-class women, but sexuality, ethnicity, and marriage provide opportunities for tension and contradiction. Women who embodied the white, middle class, and heterosexual ideal of citizenship, as opposed to those who were Chinese, lesbian or working-class, appeared more comfortable taking on the role of moral guardian for the school and the nation. Discrimination was not the only message. These women also revealed their agency in negotiating educational 'democracy.' They were, therefore, neither the dupes of 'democracy' nor radical dissenters to prevailing codes. This agency came through 'everyday' means, rather than formal feminist actions. They nonetheless sometimes broke the bounds of their private sphere 'capabilities' to insert themselves as stakeholders in public discourses of citizenship, albeit with limited powers. They depicted their teaching selves as change-makers both structurally, in term of their post-war work lives, and symbolically, in terms o f their representation during the interview process. For example, some women declared themselves to be the effective head of department within an all-woman subject area, like girls' physical education, even when they were denied official promotion. Other women described themselves as taking over the prescribed curriculum through their own pace, methods and lessons. In declaring these forms o f resistance, their oral histories, like the debates among education officials, demonstrate the contestable character o f hegemonic 'democratic' discourse. 11 Agency was shaped by each woman's social and work context. Some women spoke o f supportive colleagues, while others admitted to working in an atmosphere steeped in harassment and intimidation. Talk of resistance also depended upon the availability of discourses for each woman to frame herself as a respectable and 'good' teacher. A Chinese-Canadian interviewee argued that she not only struggled to prove herself as a professional, but that she needed to 'appear' Caucasian. Without the oral histories of these women's experiences the process o f citizenship inclusion and exclusion or the relationship education can solidify between national discourses and local identities cannot be fully understood. The women's oral histories are also dependent upon my sampling, interviewing, and analysis. 2 9 This study was based on twenty interviews with women who had taught in secondary schools, ten each from Vancouver and Toronto. The Toronto interviews were completed as part o f an earlier project on the history o f women teachers in 2002, which focused more generally on the relationship between post-war policy and teachers' practice. These transcripts were revisited in detail. Participants for the Vancouver interviews, completed in 2005, were located and interviewed through much the same process as the Toronto group. Nonetheless, I conducted the Vancouver interviews with a more explicit agenda of democracy and education. Whi le both groups resisted what they often deemed to be irrelevant discussion of governance for their teaching lives, the Vancouver women at times spoke more readily to themes o f citizenship in their philosophies of teaching and interactions with students. To participate in the study, interviewees had to have taught in a secondary school in the Toronto or Vancouver School Board for at least two years between 1945 and 1960. The only other criterion for selection was their obvious willingness to discuss their work, and at times private lives during that period. Some women contacted declined participation 12 because detailed discussion created discomfort. They may have feared disrupting their reputation as teachers. Even an initial newsletter call in their community clubs or retired teachers' associations did not entirely guarantee participation. The women said that they did not believe in the historical significance o f their lives for educational research until persuaded by a fellow teacher, friend or colleague. The women who agreed to be interviewed were thus secured by a snowball, word-of-mouth chain of recruitment. For the most part, respondents were in their eighties and the post-war period marked the beginning of their teaching careers. A little less than half of the women had their teaching interrupted by marriage and/or children in the 1940s and 1950s. Regardless o f marital status, the majority identified as middle-class, white, Anglo-Saxon. A number spoke of working-class upbringings, especially during the Depression years but marriage brought a rise in social economic-status. Only two identified with a further marginalized social group, one as a lesbian, although not 'out' in her teaching days, and another as one o f the first Chinese-Canadian women to teach in a secondary school in British Columbia. A s a group, these profiles obviously do not represent the diversity o f women's experiences. They do, however, represent the typical woman teacher hired to work in post-war secondary schools. Many o f the women fit the characteristics o f ideal post-war citizenship: white, Christian, heterosexual, and middle class. The interview process itself was a semi-structured, open-ended question format of approximately two to three hours in length conducted in their homes. The interviewees answered biographical questions about issues from birth to retirement, including their current reflections on education. Their answers provided a context for their memories of such matters as teacher education, workload and daily responsibilities, interactions with students, colleagues and administrators, pedagogical philosophies, curriculum development 13 and instructional methods. While oral historians hope for a close fit in terms of interpretation of events between participants and researcher, the women were aware that I would be interpreting their stories according to my own research agenda. In accordance with ethical procedures, the interviewees knew the objectives o f the project and their rights. They were not provided with a copy o f their transcript for editing. I have made, however, every attempt to avoid co-option or distortion of their opinions. Furthermore, I have tried to protect their anonymity by providing pseudonyms and eliminating clearly identifying information. I use the first name of each woman teacher's pseudonym when repeatedly identifying her oral history. Archival records have been used to assist in understanding the formation of women's oral histories as an ideological struggle for agency within patriarchal institutions and discourses. Beneficial collections were found at the Toronto District School Board Sesquicentennial Museum and Archives, Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University o f Toronto's Ontario Historical Education Collection, City o f Vancouver Archives, and the British Columbia Teachers' Federation Archives. These provided access to newspaper clippings on education, school board minutes, annual reports, curriculum guidelines, government legislation to regulate administration, teacher education and school board organization, provincial commission reports, and federation newsletters, committee papers and policy documents. While these sources are used to understand 'senior' official objectives for Toronto and Vancouver secondary schools, they also provide basic statistical data such as pay scales and teacher demographics. Despite the relative accessibility of primary sources, the work o f women teachers in twentieth-century Canada is greatly under-researched within what is otherwise a vibrant field of educational history. L ike Canadian history more generally, the history o f education was 14 initially written as a story of nationhood missing many o f the people who worked for its creation. Teachers, pupils and even parents started to garner the attention o f social, sometimes educational, historians in the 1970s. 3 2 Feminist historians quickly became a part o f this historiographical turn. B y the mid-1980s, Patrick Harrigan in an article on the comparative perspective of trends in educational history argued that Canadian scholarship had taken the international lead in its attention to women's schooling. 3 3 In particular, he noted pioneers, such as Al ison Prentice and Marta Danylewycz. 3 4 In the first comprehensive collection on women teachers, covering Australia, Britain, Canada and the United States, editors Al ison Prentice and Marjorie Theobald acknowledged that such projects supplied a corrective to the history of male educators establishing state 35 school bureaucracies. They argued that feminist historians were revisionists, challenging the presentation of women teachers as either victims or unwitting perpetuators of gendered school structures (i.e. young, naive, rural teachers who were being used for cheap labour). This collection set out a goal, which scholars have since attempted to fulfill , namely, to know the various perspectives of women who taught and their contradictory positioning within patriarchal schooling. Their work on biographies of schoolmistresses and the bureaucracy o f school systems; the experiences of governesses in dame schools or Catholic convents; and the feminization of public school teaching, based on women's low status and pay laid the foundation for a thriving field of study. Despite this promising start, only a few scholarly articles and unpublished manuscripts have been produced on the history of women teachers in Canada - scholars in others countries have now taken the lead. The gap can be partially attributed to the status of women secondary school teachers. Labour historians have generally neglected teaching because it stands between the working and professional classes, 15 and many feminist scholars have neglected teaching to examine more groundbreaking occupations like law and medicine. Work in the field has replaced the male educator in nineteenth-century bureaucratic structures of state schools with women teachers. Some studies have focused on the 20 t h century organization of women teachers. O f particular note are Sandra Gaskell 's much-cited dissertation on Ontario elementary teachers and issues o f professionalism, and two extensive documentary histories of the Federation o f Women Teachers' Associations in Ontario ( F W T A O ) by Doris French, and Patricia Staton and Beth Light. These works, as with most recent research, are concerned with the elementary school teacher. This reflected the prevailing segregation of the workforce and the primary materials available for a unique organization like the F W T A O . The gap also owes something to the less accessible story o f the gendering of education for secondary school women who did not fit the 'maternal image' as readily as their elementary counterparts. Despite comprising over one-third of most urban school staffs in the mid-twentieth-century male-dominated secondary school, women have historically been treated as anomalies. There are a few exceptions that are particularly relevant for this thesis. Cecil ia Reynolds and Sheila L . Cavanagh stand out for their numerous articles on women teachers 38 and issues of hierarchies in administration, and sexuality and school policy after the 1920s. In addition, Rebecca Priegert Coulter and Helen Harper have taken up the challenge of a collection on women teachers in the twentieth-century. This compilation, History is Hers, published in 2005, is particularly welcome for its extensive use of oral histories, which also form the basis for much o f Reynolds' work. Interdisciplinary contributors to History is Hers have taken seriously post-modern theory, challenging a consensus model and seeking the particularities of women teachers' l ives . 4 0 They cover a range of issues, from rural and northern Ontario teaching to both Francophone and immigrant women educators. Their 16 attention, however, conforms to the longstanding preference for primarily examining elementary teaching with the sole regional focus of Ontario. 4 1 A s a result their ability to illuminate national agendas is limited. Jean Barman in Sojourning Sisters is one of the few historians to acknowledge that women's work as local teachers had a national effect on our ideals, culture and social structures, but her study is of a much earlier period. 4 2 I begin in the next chapter by providing an overview of my feminist theoretical reading of women teachers' oral histories as a context for my own work. I argue, through a selective historiography, that a fuller understanding of narratives comes from the insights o f feminist post-structuralism and materialism that treats oral histories neither as anecdotal nor pure sources. Rather, I argue that these theoretical approaches to women's stories enable historians to understand linguistic and structural parameters of stories, and recognize the political agency of women's experiences, while not identifying an essentialist 'Woman. ' This point is illustrated through an integrative reading of some o f the most concentrated studies on women teachers' oral histories. Before applying this analysis to my own collection of interviews, in the second chapter I interrogate school officials' conceptualization of'democratic' discourses and policies, which the women had to negotiate. I demonstrate that educators, across the political spectrum and in different regions of the country rallied behind a nationalist post-war platform of 'democracy.' I examine three of the most expansive areas of 'democratic' reform: curriculum, character education, and administration. I illustrate, with specific attention to class, race, religion and region, that reforms in these areas were based on the re-affirmation o f a conservative ideal of citizenship. Subsequent chapters then provide a primarily gendered examination o f how each major 'democratic' trend in education shaped a limiting role for women teachers within the secondary school. 17 I argue in chapter three that, like the mass sorting of students in the 'accessible' school, women teachers were sorted by school administrators and even their federation representatives as less professional than their male counterparts. Marked by sociability and irrationality, their 'womanliness' meant that women could neither embody nor teach the necessary rigorous and objective knowledge that was meant to characterize the post-war 'democratic' curriculum. Unable to be men, women were accused of a lack of commitment to teaching, and thus hindering professionalism. While marginalized, women were simultaneously praised for their potential to reproduce 'democratic' morality. Chapter four examines the women teachers' role as performers of traditional citizenship values - a primary objective for the school's increased social services and 'character' education. As the cultivators of the norm, they found themselves under continuous surveillance. Those interviewed spoke of struggling to appear the 'respectable' woman and teacher, while, at times, acting out alternative messages of proper femininity. The final chapter explores women's integration as 'equalparticipants' in the decentralized educational administration of post-war schooling. They were given greater responsibilities in the 'democratic' re-organization of schooling but without the commensurate level of authority or remuneration. As mothers of the school, women were meant to be apolitical service providers, with the authority of the public school remaining in the hands of male heads of department, principals, and inspectors. Women responded by exerting control where they could, namely classrooms and more specifically the pace, method and lessons of instruction. Ultimately, I suggest that women were quasi-citizens in the public school, yet leaders in the delivery of democratic hope for the age. Their 18 experiences question the gender-blind inclusiveness of educational 'democracy' for post-Canada. 19 1 The definitions of democracy in education are vast. For recent definitions see the work of Ken Osborne and Joel Westheimer. Ken Osborne, Teaching for Democratic Citizenship (Toronto: Our Schools/Ourselves, 1991); Ken Osborne, "Teaching for Democratic Citizenship," in Sociology of Education in Canada, ed. L . Erwin and D. MacLennan (Toronto: Copp Clark Longman, 1994); Joel Westheimer, "Democratic Dogma: There is No One-Size-Fits - A l l Approach to Schooling for Democracy," Our Schools/Ourselves 15, no.l (2005): 25-30. 2 Madeleine Arnot and Jo-Anne Dillabough, "Introduction" in Challenging Democracy: International Perspectives on Gender, Education and Citizenship, ed. M . Arnot and J. Dillabough (New York: Routledge, 2000). Arnot and Dillabough aptly describe the harmful effects for various groups of the "nameless, faceless entity" that is liberal democratic citizenship. See, also, Derek Heater, A History of Education for Citizenship (New York: Routledge, 2004). 3 Madeleine Arnot and Jo-Anne Dillabough, "Feminist political frameworks: New approaches to the study of gender, citizenship and education," in Challenging Democracy: International Perspectives on Gender, Education and Citizenship, ed. M . Arnot and J. Dillabough (New York: Routledge, 2000); See also, Madeleine Arnot and Jo-Anne Dillabough, "Feminist Politics and Democratic Values in Education," Curriculum Inquiry 29, no.2 (1999): 159-189. Arnot and Dillabough provide a uniquely thorough assessment of the critical texts in this field. Their examination of the field has been particularly beneficial for my understanding of the relationship among gender, education and democracy. 4 Carole Pateman, The Sexual Contract (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988); Carole Pateman, The disorder of women: democracy, feminism, and political theory (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989). 5 Anne Phillips, Engendering Democracy (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1991). 6 Robert Adamoski, Dorothy E. Chunn and Robert Menzies (eds.), Contesting Canadian Citizenship: Historical Readings (Peterborough: Broadview Press, 2002), 20. 7 Arnot and Dillabough, "Introduction," Challenging Democracy, 4. 8 Nira Yuval-Davis, Gender and Nation (London: Sage Press, 1997); See also, Nira Yuval-Davis and Penina Werbner (editors), Women, citizenship and difference (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1999); Anne Phillips, Democracy and Difference (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1993); Iris Marion Young, Inclusion and Democracy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). 9 Nira Yuval-Davis, "Women, citizenship and difference," Feminist Review 57 (1997): 4-5, as quoted by Arnot and Dillabough, "Feminist Politics and Democratic Values in Education," 164. 1 0 Arnot and Dillabough, "Introduction," Challenging Democracy, 5. " Ibid . 1 2 Carmen Luke and Jennifer Gore (editors), Feminisms and Critical Pedagogy (New York: Routledge, 1992); Carmen Luke (editor), Feminisms and Pedagogies and everyday Life (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996); Elizabeth Ellsworth, Teaching positions: Difference, pedagogy, and the power of address (New York: Teachers College Press, 1997); Bronwyn Davies, 20 Frogs and snails and feminist tales (Sydney: A l l e n and Unwin , 1989); Patti Lather, Getting Smart (New York : Routledge, 1992); Jane Kenway, Sue Wi l l i s and J i l l Blackmore, Answering Back: girls, boys and feminism in schools (New York : Routledge, 1998); Rebecca Priegert Coulter, "Doing Gender in Canadian Schools: A n Overview o f the Pol icy and Practice Melange," in Gender Issues in International Education, ed. S. Erkskine and M . Wi lson (New York : Garland Press, 1999). 1 3 Valerie Walkerdine and Helen Lucey, Democracy in the Kitchen: Regulating Mothers and Socialising Daughters (London: Virago, 1989); See, also, Valerie Walkerdine, Schoolgirl Fictions (London: Verso, 1990). 1 4 Jo-Anne Dillabough, "Women in Teacher Education: Their struggles for inclusion as 'citizen-workers' in late modernity," in Challenging Democracy: International Perspectives on Gender, Education and Citizenship, ed. M . Arnot and J. Dillabough (New York : Routledge, 2000); See also, Jo-Anne Dillabough, "Gender Politics and Conceptions of the Modern Teacher: women, identity and professionalism," British Journal of Sociology of Education 20, no.3 (September 1999): 374-394. 1 5 Z .S . Phimister, "The Principal and the School," The School November (1947), 103, quoted by Robert M . Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 1876-1976 (Toronto: University o f Toronto Press, 1982), 183. 1 6 See appendices and discussion to follow in this chapter for detailed information on the sample and interview process for the women's oral histories. 1 7 M i c h e l Foucault, Discipline and Punish: the birth of the prison (New York : Pantheon Books, 1977); See a similar application o f Foucault for issues o f post-war governance in M o n a Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal: Psychology, Schooling, and The Family in Postwar Canada (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1999), 8. 1 8 Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks (New York: International Publishers, 1971) as cited by Andrew Ross, No Respect: Intellectuals and Popular Culture (New York : Routledge, 1988), 55. See also, Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Cultural Writings (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1979); Esteve Morera, "Gramsci and Democracy," Canadian Journal of Political Science 23 (1990): 5-37. 1 9 Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks, as cited by Ross, No Respect, 55. 2 0 Ross, No Respect, 55. 2 1 Shirley Tillotson, The Public at Play: Gender and Politics of Recreation in Post-War Ontario (Toronto: University o f Toronto Press, 2000); Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal. See also, Doug Owram, Born At the Right Time: A History of the Baby-Boom Generation (Toronto: University o f Toronto, 1996); Mary Louise Adams, The Trouble With Normal: Post-war Youth and the Construction of Heterosexuality (Toronto: University o f Toronto Press, 1994). A strategy o f containment within the post-war period of the United States is discussed by Elaine Tyler May , Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York : Basic Books, 1988). Traumatic changes included the return o f military men to the workforce and often strained familial relations; women being expected to leave their positions in the workforce following the war, but continuing to work due to the flourishing economy; an unprecedented baby boom; a shift in the marketplace from a producer-based economy to a consumer-focus; waves o f immigration; the threat 21 of the atomic bomb palpable; and. a global intelligence race, typified by the launch of the Russian satellite Sputnik. 2 2 Tillotson, The Public at Play, 4-6. 2 3 Alison Prentice et al., Canadian Women: A History (Toronto: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1988), 351; Ann Porter, "Women and Income Security in the Post-War Period: The Case of Unemployment Insurance, 1945-1962," Labour/Le Trvail 31 (1993): 111-144; Susan Prentice, "Workers, Mothers, Reds: Toronto's Postwar Daycare Fight," Studies in Political Economy 30 (1989): 115-144; Shirley Tillotson, "Human Rights Law as Prism: Women's Organizations, Unions and Ontario's Female Employees Fair Remuneration Act, 1951," Canadian Historical Review 72 (1991): 532-557. For broader societal trends that reflected the trangressive nature of hegemonic citizenship, see, for example: Franca Iacovetta, Such Hardworking People: Italian Immigrants in Postwar Toronto (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1992); Adams, 77ie Trouble with Normal; Veronica Strong-Boag, "Home Dreams: Women and the Suburban Experiment in Canada, 1945-1960," Canadian Historical Review 74, no.4 (1991): 471-504; Veronica Strong-Boag, "Canada's Wage Earning Wives and the Construction of the Middle-Class, 1945-1960," Journal of Canadian Studies 29, no.3 (Fall 1994): 5-25. Franca Iacovetta's work, based on the lives of post-war Italian working-class families, demonstrates that an increased political allowance of 'immigrants' into Canada and their fight for greater rights was matched by growing assimilationist, 'Canadianized' programs. In her research on post-war youth, Mary Louise Adams argues that educators and child 'experts' began to promote sex education. The purpose, however, was an aggressive endorsement of heterosexuality, or the proliferation of the 'normal' post-war family that could combat a perceived increase in deviancy. Veronica Strong-Boag has illustrated that women, confined to the sprawling suburbs of the period, an endorsement of the male breadwinner model, were in fact working, and for some finding fulfillment in that work, both inside and outside of the home. 2 4 Tillotson, The Public at Play, 8-9. 2 5 Ibid., 9. 2 6 F. Henry Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1968); Stamp, The Schools of Ontario; Neil Sutherland, "The Triumph of Formalism," in Children, Teachers and Schools, ed. J. Barman, N . Sutherland, and J.D. Wilson (Calgary: Detselig, 1995). 2 7 Robert D. Gidney, From Hope to Harris: The Reshaping of Ontario's Schools (Toronto: University of Toronto, 1999), 30. See also, a number of articles in J.Donald Wilson and David C. Jones (editors), Schooling and Society in 20fh Century British Columbia (Calgary: Detselig, 1980). In this collection, scholars noted that there existed two strains of Progressivism or 'New Education,' during the early part of the twentieth-century in the West, with one group welfare and reform-minded, with Dewey representative, and the other group business and management-oriented, with Thorndike representative. Few historians have followed-up on this issue, which is an important line of inquiry. Recent exceptions include: Kathleen Weiler, "No women wanted on the social frontier: gender, citizenship and progressive education," in Challenging Democracy: International Perspectives on Gender, Education, and Citizenship, ed. M . Arnot and J. Dillabough (New York: Routledge, 2000); Rebecca Priegert Coulter, "Getting Things Done: Donalda J. Dickie and Leadership Through Practice," Canadian Journal of Education 28, no. 3 (2005): 669-699. This thesis intends to deepen and complicate this discussion, as I argue that such categories seemed to collapse for the average educator in the post-WWII period. Furthermore, I argue that those who 22 proclaimed allegiance to progressivism embraced a reform agenda that was similarly conservative as that claimed by traditionalists. 2 8 Dillabough, "Women in Teacher Education," 180-181. 2 9 See appendices for a biographical overview of each interviewee, the project summary, consent form and interview guid. This information reveals the interviewees' knowledge of the research prior to participating, the terms of their agreement to participate, and some of the general questions they were asked. 3 0 Patricia Anne Staton and Beth Light, Speak with their own voices: a documentary history of the teachers of Ontario and the women elementary public school teachers in Ontario (Toronto: F W T A O , 1987), 130. They argue that the demographics of women teachers remained fairly consistent over a long period: most were white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant, and from lower to middle class families. The main change during this period was the increase in the number of married women teaching, as cited by Cecilia Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy: Becoming a Teacher in Toronto, 1930 - 1980," Historical Studies in Education 2, no.l (1990): 111-117. Reynolds' statistics show that in 1961 72% of women teachers were British, followed by a small percentage with French and German backgrounds. 3 1 Charles E. Phillips, The Development of Public Education in Canada (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1957); Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education. For the historiography of the early development of Canadian education, see, for example, J. Donald Wilson, "Some Observations on Recent Trends in Canadian Educational History," in An Imperfect Past: Education and Society in Canadian Education, ed. J.D. Wilson (Vancouver: C H E A and the Centre for the Study of Curriculum and Instruction, University of British Columbia, 1984). 3 2 See, for example, Michael B. Katz, 77;e People of Hamilton, Canada West: Family and Class in a Mid-Nineteenth Century City (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975. This work explores the relationship between work place and schooling. Katz is generally credited with influencing a radical revision of Canadian educational history that heretofore neglected class issues; Robert D. Gidney and Doug A. Lawr, "Who Ran the Schools? Local vs. Central Control of Policy-Making in Nineteenth-Century Ontario," Ontario History 67 (1980): 131-143; Robert D. Gidney and Doug A. Lawr, "Community vs. Bureaucracy? The Origins of Bureaucratic Procedure in the Upper Canadian School System," in Historical Essays on Upper Canada: New Perspectives, ed. J.K. Johnson and B.G. Wilson (Ottawa: Carleton University Press, 1989). Gidney and Lawr illustrate the ways local people resisted school bureaucracies in late nineteenth-century Ontario; Chad Gaffield, Language, Schooling and Cultural Conflict (Montreal-Kingston: McGill- Queen's University Press, 1988). Gaffield argues that French language schools in nineteenth-century Ontario contributed to the preservation of French culture and not its assimilation to the dominant English culture; Neil Sutherland, Children in English Canadian Society: Framing the Twentieth Century Consensus (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976). Sutherland's work was groundbreaking in the field of childhood studies. Two collections soon followed that addressed the 'new' social history and its focus on family and children, Joy Parr (editor), Childhood and Family in Canadian History (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1982); Patricia T. Rooke and R.L. Schnell (editors), Studies in Childhood History: A Canadian Perspective (Calgary: Detselig, 1982). 3 3 Patrick J. Harrigan, "A Comparative Perspective on Recent Trends in the History of Education in Canada, History of Education Quarterly 26, no.l (1986): 79-80. 23 Alison Prentice, "The Feminization of Teaching in British North America and Canda: 1845-1875," Histoire sociale/Social History 8 (1975): 5-20; Marta Danylewycz, Beth Light and Alison Prentice, "The Evolution of the Sexual Division of Labour in Teaching: A Nineteenth-Century Ontario and Quebec Case Study," Histoire sociale/ Social History 16, no. 31 (1983): 81-109; Marta Danylewycz and Alison Prentice, "Teachers, Gender and Bureaucratizing School Systems in Nineteenth-Century Montreal and Toronto," History of Education Quarterly 24, no.l (1984): 75-100. 3 5 Alison Prentice and Marjorie R. Theobald, "The Historiography of Women Teachers: A Retrospect," in Women Who Taught: Perspectives on the History of Women and Teaching, edited by A . Prentice and M . Theobald (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991). 3 6 Kate Rousmaniere, City Teachers: Teaching and School Reform in Historical Perspective (New York: Teachers College Press, 1997). 3 7 Doris French, High Button Bootstraps: Federation of Women's Teacher's Associations of Ontario, 1918-1968, (Toronto: The Ryerson Press, 1968); Staton and Light, Speak with their own voices; Sandra Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism of Women Elementary Public School Teachers in Ontario, 1944-1954 (Ed.D. Dissertation: Faculty of Education, University of Toronto, 1989). For an associational history of Catholic women teachers in Quebec, see, Nadia Fahmy-Eid and Micheline Dumont (editors), Mattresses de maison, maitresses d'ecole. Femmes, Families et Education dans l'histoire du Quebec (Montreal, Boreal, 1983). 3 8 Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy"; Cecilia Reynolds, "In the Right Place at the Right Time: Rules of Control and Woman's Place in Ontario Schools, 1940-1980," Canadian Journal of Education 20, no.2 (1995): 129-145; Cecilia Reynolds arid Harry Smaller, "Ontario School Teachers: A Gendered View of the 1930s," Historical Studies in Education 6 (1994): 151-169; Sheila L . Cavanagh, "The Heterosexualization of the Ontario Woman Teacher in Post-war Period," Canadian Woman Studies 18, no.l (1998): 65-69; Sheila L . Cavanagh, "The Gender of Professionalism and Occupational Closure: the management of tenure-related disputes by the 'Federation of Women Teachers' Associations of Ontario' 1918-1949," Gender and Education 15, no.l (2003): 39-57; Sheila L . Cavanagh, "Female-Teacher Gender and Sexuality in Twentieth-Century Ontario, Canada," History of Education Quarterly 45, no.2 (2005): 247-273. See also, Susan Gelman, "The 'Feminization' of the High School: Women Secondary Teachers in Toronto, 1871-1930," Historical Studies in Education 2 (1990): 119-148; Judith Arbus, "Grateful to be Working: Women Teachers During the Great Depression," in Feminism and Education: A Canadian Perspective, ed. F. Forman, M . O'Brien, J. Haddad, D. Hallman, and P. Masters (Toronto: Centre for Women's Studies, OISE, 1990). 3 9 Rebecca Priegert Coulter and Helen Harper (editors), History is Hers: Women Educators in Twentieth Century Ontario (Calgary: Detselig, 2005). 4 0 Ibid., 16. The expansive number of interviews, seven contributors, and six decade time span, make it difficult to sum up methodological approach and theoretical understanding of women teachers' oral history for this collection. This is the primary reason why I do not treat this recent text in the following chapter's theoretical analysis of the field. I do, however, draw upon several articles within the collection, particularly the work of Sheila L . Cavanagh, for this thesis. 4 1 Ibid., 21. 24 Jean Barman, Sojourning Sisters: The Lives and Letters of Jessie and Annie McQueen (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2003). 25 Chapter 1 Productive Tensions: Feminist Readings of Women Teachers' Oral Histories' According to Sandra Harding, the best feminist work ensures that research is grounded in women's experiences, considers the power relations between researchers and researched, and works towards the elimination of patriarchal oppression. 4 4 While these commonalities are pronounced in most feminist studies, feminist researchers begin from diverse and contested epistemological positions. 4 5 In recent years, contests over the differences between poststructuralism and materialism have sometimes appeared to take precedence in the quest for 'the best feminist work.' While each approach in itself is vast and encompasses an array o f positions, which is beyond the scope of this exploration, each theory is marked by dominant themes and points for analysis. Poststructuralist feminists demarcate their work by asserting, as Barbara Johnson notes, that gender is a question of language that can only be subjectively deconstructed within local contexts. 4 6 In contrast, materialist feminists, such as Jennifer Wicke, insist that an examination of material conditions, both domestic and industrial, is the basis for revealing the general and definable principles that produce gender hierarchy. 4 7 Judith Butler has warned against the propensity for contemporary feminists to exaggerate 'difference' o f approaches in their work. She writes: "...the question of whether or not a position is.right.. .is in this case, less informative than why we come to occupy and defend the territory we do, what it promises us." 4 8 In light of this statement, it is all the more important to question: does a feminist reading o f women teachers' oral histories benefit from a purely poststructuralist or materialist analysis or rather from an integrated framework? A n increasing number of feminist theorists are reconciling modernist questions o f structural equality with poststructuralist concerns for discourse and difference: acknowledging that 26 feminists share the goals o f investigating and de-normalizing power. The work of feminist political and social theorists, notably Nancy Fraser and Linda Nicholson, directly counter the fragmentation o f these earlier approaches by acknowledging women's political agency within hierarchies of identification. 4 9 A feminist reading o f women teachers' oral histories, which integrates the strengths o f poststructuralist and materialist feminism, provides productive tensions for historians seeking to explore the complex relations of power that create narrative meaning making. When examining women's oral histories, Joan Sangster argues that historians should be concerned about the dangers o f poststructuralism's propensity for "form over context, o f stressing deconstruction of individual narratives over analysis of social patterns, of disclaiming our duty as historians to analyze and interpret women's stories." 5 0 Equally dangerous is over-reliance on materialism with the possibility of imposing grand narratives that match political agendas and define power as purely 'objective,' economic or unified. In contrast, a feminist poststructuralist and materialist reading o f women teachers' oral histories challenges generalizing theoretical traditions, and, more importantly, the need for a feminist critique that is 'right' according to extreme theoretical categories.5 1 In its place, an integrated analysis provides a feminist critique of oral history that encourages historians to, as Marjorie Theobald describes, work within layers of memory, rather than beyond them. There, we can discover a point at which women's narratives can expose and destabilize essentialist tropes or myths encouraged by male dominance. 5 2 A s Luisa Passerini argues, oral histories are revelations of truths, but "it is up to the interpreter to discover in which sense, where, for what purpose." 5 3 This chapter considers how historians have interpreted women teachers' oral histories. The selected studies for analysis are from the United States, New Zealand and Australia. Unlike the case for Canada, 27 scholars in these countries have undertaken major studies of women who taught in the twentieth-century and tapped into their first-hand accounts of educational processes in such areas as labour conflicts, teacher training, and state educational policies. 5 4 Some Canadian scholars have begun to embark on such studies. Few, as previously discussed, have turned to oral history as a central resource or published a series o f articles or a manuscript of their studies. The works selected for this chapter, in addition to being some of the best-recognized studies in the field, provide oral histories from concentrated interview pools that deal with a fairly specific time period arid are examined in-depth by the historians who authored the work. These selected texts are not intended to represent a comprehensive historiography of empirical studies, but do illustrate various historical approaches and understandings o f the value of women teachers' narratives. This chapter provides an analysis o f conceptual issues raised by feminist researchers and faced by oral historians, such as myself, in exploring women's oral histories. Few scholars here explicitly address their theoretical leanings, an area that should be confronted i f more sophisticated appraisals are to occur. Nevertheless, the authors below deal implicitly with theoretical concepts that feminist poststructuralists and materialists debate regarding the representation of women's experiences. I do not, therefore, attribute the identity o f any theoretical tradition to the historians or their work in women teachers' oral histories that are under examination. Rather, the focus is on using feminist poststructuralist and materialist theories, at times in retrospect from when the histories were produced, for an understanding of the most comprehensive readings for written oral histories of women teachers. In particular, this chapter addresses three key concepts for historians' representations of women teachers' narratives: knowledge, discourse and identity. 5 5 28 While these terms are certainly interrelated, this chapter treats each separately. The first section addresses knowledge, or the assertions o f 'truth' historians make through women's memories of teaching. Many postmodernist feminists assert that oral historians can reveal multiple and fluctuating truths by paying close attention to the organizing principles underlying narratives. Materialist feminists have questioned the political efficacy of unending truths offered by postmodernism and encourage oral historians to lay bare the locations o f power that produce evidence from oral histories. The second concept is discourse, which in this case refers to teachers' use o f language to explain their self-identity within society. While the power o f language to structure women's realities has been the foundation of feminist poststructuralism, materialist feminists emphasize the structural parameters o f discourses. The third section addresses the identity construction o f women teachers. Some poststructuralist feminists support the interrogation of women teachers' individual narratives, as they reject the imposition of 'Woman. ' In contrast, some materialist feminists seek to understand the subjectivities o f 'women ' as a group, defined according to social patterns of patriarchy, particularly informed by class relations. Rather than stifling, the tensions between these feminist frameworks for oral historians might be productive. The potential of women teachers' oral history can be found between these theoretical traditions, where multiple truths are located within the power dynamics o f their construction, language as experience is understood in relation to material life, and the question of the self is continuously negotiated within social structures. 29 R E M E M B E R I N G EXPERIENCES A N D HISTORICAL K N O W L E D G E Poststructuralist feminists seek to destabilize male dominance, in part, by reading women's oral histories as knowledge production, a process through which women make sense or meaning of their lives. 5 6 Narratives are treated as linguistic constructions and historical texts which, open to multiple interpretations, can provide evidence of how women conceptualize their past experiences or relationships to the social world. Jacques Derrida argues that life as text accentuates the notion that there is no clear window into the inner life of a person, because the view is always filtered through the glaze of language, and processes of signification. Experience as interpreted through oral history is thus a fluctuating 'truth' that exists within the layers of life as it happens, life as it is told by the subject, and life as narrative interpreted by the historian. The role of the oral historian is not to provide the facts of women teachers' pasts, even i f this were possible; rather it is to analyze the way historic knowledge is created through the production of discourse as informed by experiences and subject locations. Poststructuralist feminists argue that oral history as evidence, set within a text, can lead to the re-conceptualization of the study of women's work in education or, for that matter, in some other field. Richard Quantz 's study of the failure of women teachers' unionization in Hamilton, Ohio, during the 1930s provides an illustration. He rejects traditional historical claims that rely purely on structural or material explanations with respect to professional associations, namely, the failure of unionization as a result of weak ties to the organized, largely male, labour movement and harsh economic times.59 Quantz argues that while larger forces shape the story, the event in question can only be fully understood through an analytic foundation that includes women who lived through it and 30 their discursively constructed subjectivities. Contrary to structurally based studies, he demonstrates that failure to unionize was not because women teachers were unknowing dupes of the educational elite. Instead, Quantz illustrates that women organized their realities around key cultural metaphors, such as viewing the school as family and a legitimate female institution, which provided them with a perception of power that appeared to make external professional associations irrelevant. 6 0 Quantz's study ends by noting that he has provided temporal conclusions from patterns within the women's narratives of that time and place. Historian Kate Rousmaniere frames her narrative of teachers' diverse meanings o f and relationships to work in similar terms. In her City Teachers: Teaching and School Reform in Historical Perspective, Rousmaniere argues that historical scholarship has remained relatively silent about the diversity of women teachers' work, as accounts regarding the messiness of life inside schools are missing. She argues that traditionally historians have misread conditions o f women teachers' work, narrowly defining it as factory-like labour constrained by material structures, namely prescriptive policy and curricula. She implies, in part, that this is due to materialist feminists not listening to the language and the recurring echoes of meaning found in teachers' narratives. Through an ethnographic examination of teachers' experiences of work in New York schools, she refutes arguments that schools became rationalized, orderly, and financially efficient institutions during the 1920s' 'Progressive E r a . ' 6 1 A s she looks "...sideways into the picture presented...in order to identify teachers' motivations, feelings, and reactions," Rousmaniere illustrates that women teachers interpreted administrators' concept of'progress' as involving different meanings o f order, including more intense labour and divisions among teachers.6 2 In addition, 'progress' meant a negotiated work culture by which women teachers sporadically 31 both accommodated and resisted their conditions. Rousmaniere's narrative is, at times, an unrelenting form of historical advocacy for teachers. She provides, however, an illuminating concluding point: for reform to be effective in schools, whether in 1920s New York or elsewhere, teachers' concerns must be heard amongst the voices o f educational reformers 63 and policy texts. For Rousmaniere, like Quantz, it is the historian's job to explore knowledge as a linguistic representation of life which, when studied, provides clues, patterns, and themes that speak to how women teachers, in relation to a multitude of conflicting 'truths' and 'voices,' understood and acted upon their surroundings. This poststructuralist conceptual stance rejects an empiricist view of the past as objectively fixable through the scientific pursuit of facts and a singular, universal truth. 6 4 It thereby undermines traditionally male-based scientific claims to authority over knowledge, including biological determinism of gender disparities. A t the same time, this framework rejects the attempts of feminist empiricists to re-inscribe objectivist notions o f 'woman' through the elimination of male bias in the sciences. 6 5 A l l knowledge, including that of the women participating in research, is subject to deconstruction and scepticism. In contrast, materialist feminist researchers have argued that poststructuralist suspicion of all truth claims are disingenuous and politically untenable for a feminist agenda that seeks to foster research from and for women. Roberta Spalter-Roth and Heidi Hartmann are critical of any feminist epistemological position that does not claim scientific credibility and generalizability. Without such evidence, they argue, feminists would be discredited in policy debates and unable to actualize feminist goals for political reform. 6 6 Donna Haraway makes a similar argument in claiming that feminist poststructuralists fall into a dangerous territory of relativism, which is the "perfect mirror twin of totalization in the ideologies of objectivity; both deny the stakes of location, embodiment, and partial perspective; both make 32 it impossible to see wel l . " In her research, Haraway reclaims the notion of objectivity which she defines as feminists' articulation o f subjugated knowledges. 6 8 She asserts that partial perspectives, as a way of seeing, enable accessible communication among feminist researchers for change in the 'real ' world of women. 6 9 Considering materialist feminists' calls for a strong political feminist agenda, the seduction for many oral historians has been to write a descriptive, coherent story that privileges the seemingly transparent knowledge of women. 7 0 Such narratives are founded on the belief, articulated by Paul Thompson, that "...transforming the 'objects' o f study into 'subjects', makes for a history which is not just richer, more vivid and heartrending, but truer." 7 1 A l i ce Duffy Rinehart's 1983 study Mortals in the Immortal Profession: An Oral History of Teaching works from such a standpoint. Her book is very much the product of the time in which is was written, when post-modern questions were not at the forefront of history. Rinehart produces an extensive compilation of thirty-eight interviews with women who had worked in various American schools throughout their lifetime. 7 2 She covers important issues such as reasons for entering teaching, family background and major political events affecting education. 7 3 Rinehart presents oral histories as reminiscences or anecdotal personal insights, in other words as self-evident depictions of reality, instead of scrutinizing them within a theoretical context. Her failure to analyze the 'historical knowledge' in teachers' narratives misses the complex relations of power, both privilege and subordination, which underlie the dynamics of meaning making. Valorizing women teachers in an effort to let them tell their story is realized at the dangerous cost of depicting their narratives as another form of constrained consciousness similar to conservative rhetoric o f teachers' apolitical subjectivities. Essentially, Rinehart fails to treat memory as an unstable basis for women teachers' knowledge, a basis on which the historian must examine the 33 contradictions and silences for the structuring paradigms and processes that shape their individual and collective pasts. 7 4 Only through a respectful scepticism about narratives w i l l women teachers and historians be able to find patterns in their voices to collectively deconstruct the power relations that shape the educational system. If careful not to privilege a singular feminine 'voice, ' the oral historian can foreground Haraway's demands for the exposure and location of power relations in the relationship between researchers and researched. A s such, materialist feminists' concern to provide a platform for political activism based on interrogation of power relations can be realized with poststructuralist sensitivities. In fact, Michel Foucault, an unwitting father of poststructuralism, argued against linear histories that did not analyze the power to name on the part of the researcher.7 5 A s Leslie Bloom argues, the feminist researcher provides the most illuminating illustration of meaning making in history: here there exists a genuine respect for a subject's right to define her own history, but simultaneously an acknowledgment of the researcher's explicit role in the history constructed. 7 6 Diane W o l f similarly asserts that feminist fieldwork across theoretical traditions has to deal with the inherent power inequalities between the researcher and the researched, including questions o f authorship, ownership o f data, and use of evidence (sampling methods, relationship with subject, and confidentiality). 7 7 This demands fostering a relationship of trust in the research process based on the researcher's continual reflexivity. 7 8 That being said, historical knowledge produced through oral histories is, ultimately, a reported discourse created in particular contexts and analyzed within scholars' own location and seemingly 'objective' research frameworks. Kathleen Weiler makes this point in her 1998 study of interviews with twenty-five women teachers who lived and worked in rural California between 1850 and 1950. 7 9 Weiler 34 critically reads women teachers' narratives as discursive texts produced in specific historical contexts. The historian, as her work illustrates, selects and highlights certain themes in accordance with teachers' class, gender, and racial locations. She notes that the oral history of an African American woman, obtained in an interview conducted in the 1970s by a black scholar, produced a narrative centred on the freedom struggles o f black people to gain access to educational institutions. This narrative is contrasted with one conducted by a white, male scholar and produced in the conservatism of the early 1950s in which the conventional characteristics of teacher sacrifice and community building became the focus. 8 0 With respect to her own interviews, Weiler cites incidences in which women, unaware o f her liberal feminist perspective, intentionally edited their stories to present images of acceptable authority figures and happy endings which they believed corresponded to the expectations Weiler might have because of her conservative family background. 8 1 These examples demonstrate that awareness and discussion of the context o f interviews, o f the goals of the historian, and of the interaction between the subjectivities of researcher and researched are mandatory in the exploration of the 'historical knowledges' o f women teachers' narratives. They illustrate how it is important for historians to be critical not only of themselves but also o f subjects' efforts to construct a convincing historical narrative from the stories. While these issues are not new for oral historians, Weiler 's work speaks to an emerging awareness among scholars of the emancipatory potential of women's stories, as opposed to white, male 'experts,' when the production aspects of the oral history are clear. Whi le the contextual production of oral histories can address concerns for location, materialist feminists argue that historians also must be wary of obscuring the voices of their subjects. A poststructuralist approach that implies all narratives represent equally valid knowledge could result in the textual dominance o f the researcher's experiences. This 35 danger is particularly evident in Kathleen Casey's work entitled I Answer With My Life: Life Histories of Women Teachers Working for Social Change. Casey undertakes a study of the life and work o f thirty-three women who, obtained through snowball sampling, came from three general subject positions: religious Catholic women, secular Jewish women, and black 89 women teachers. Her study o f these women's stories is framed by Casey's own awareness that knowledge is not produced 'out there,' but, rather, in relationship between the subjectivities o f herself and those she interviewed. In an effort to illuminate this dialogue, Casey at times dominates with a lengthy description o f her family background, political stance, and perspectives on education. 8 3 This occurs in conjunction with attempts to create an open-ended format for her interviews that, she claims, allow the interests of the narrators to be at the forefront of the content and interpretation. That outcome is in fact undermined by sampling, questions and categorizations which are powerful forces in directing narratives. While self-conscious of her methodological and textual dominance, Casey is careful to note that women teachers' interests can usurp her agenda. Specifically, she began her research seeking to interview Communist women teachers. She often confronted secular Jewish women with this characterization, but was repeatedly told by the women themselves that OA they were not 'radical' or 'terrorist' Communists. Casey recognized that, in the context o f the 'Left ' in the 1980s, when she conducted the interviews, her categories not only no longer corresponded with but were deeply threatening to the identities of the subjects. In retrospect, Casey comments that her own biography of conservative schooling and remoteness from Communist networks prevented the effective inclusion of evidence. Historians should be cautioned against imposing their agenda on women's oral histories and their conceptions o f historical knowledge for there is not a clear window into women's past experiences that can be uncovered. A t the same time, women teachers' 36 various remembrances represent historical knowledge o f how they understood and attempted to interact with their positions in education systems of a given time and place. The historian must lay bare his or her intention to interrogate women teachers' experiences from their own 'objective' lens, thereby making claims from oral histories that hold political truths and value. T H E LOCATIONS OF W O M E N ' S DISCOURSES Casey's work demonstrates how feminist analysis of the evidence or knowledge women teachers create through oral history is directly related to debates between language and materialism as sources of gender oppression. Michele Barrett notes that poststructuralism rejects the supremacy o f materialism over signs or discourses. 8 5 In particular, poststructuralism challenges materialist feminism's focus on the cause o f women's oppression rooted in economic relations. 8 6 We should not interpret such a challenge, however, to mean that discourse is not intimately related to material life. Materialist feminists react against work, associated with poststructuralism, which describes women's lives as floating above their contexts, rather than within them. Signs should not simply replace production as a root cause of women's oppression. A n analysis of discourse with respect to women's narratives must seek to examine the system of ".. .controlling metaphors, notions, categories and norms which develop and delimit the subjects' conceptions and expressions of personal, work and social relations." Discourse is thus a way of perceiving women's experiences through multiple and competing forces within on society. A s theorist Mikha i l Bakhtin argues, voices create structures through which the reality o f a multitude of concrete worlds might be perceived or discussed. 9 0 In addition to 37 perceiving how women construct themselves, such discussion enables the historian to better understand the ways that dominant discourses, as they relate to structural institutions, also construct women's narratives. The oral historian must not identify language as synonymous with life. Women teachers' lives and language are active sites of negotiation for the historian to explore subjectivities and material constraints that ground language choices according to factors such as gender, class, race, region, and workplace. It is up to the historian to provide an effective reading o f both discourses and the material world o f the texts. Historians must approach oral narratives with dual, simultaneous interpretations, namely, a reading for structure, or the experiences o f the material world and the workings of it, and a reading for culture, or the ways memories of events and experiences are organized through language. 9 1 The work of Richard Quantz and Margaret Nelson is particularly attuned to how discourse and material realities shape their subjects' histories. They each focus on teachers' negotiations of material factors as they are expressed through discursive strategies. Quantz argues that women teachers during the Depression era in Ohio dealt with careers that were characterized by both empowerment and confinement. Using the shared language and subjectivities he observed in the narratives, he describes how women used metaphors for teaching that publicly accommodated and personally resisted their situation. These metaphors include the subordinate-authority figure (teacher as both respected/feared by students and respectful/fearful of male administrators) and the school as family (mother/child relationship with students and a sister-like relationship with co-workers, but expected to be single with the father-like figure of an administrator). Quantz notes that the complete picture o f these women's experiences is not to be found in these abstractions, as women teachers did not approach life metaphorically, but concretely. He argues that teachers' subjective redefinitions under the structural conditions of that period made it possible for them to think o f themselves in oppositional ways rather than always accommodating dominant discourses. This study provides interesting examples of how teachers' work experiences do not always conform to hegemonic discourses of material conditions. For example, his interviewees strongly identified with a mother metaphor that afforded them a great amount of authority within the community, while keeping them subordinate within the educational system. 9 3 Despite such dynamics, Quantz's concluding remarks allude to the idea that these women contributed to their own powerlessness as teachers because they did not change their material realities, merely their subjective worlds. He acknowledges the discursive authority women had over their experiences and then subsequently dismisses any 'real' power. Quantz misreads the teachers' narratives, namely, that they are speaking to the negotiating of a meaningful identity within the context o f patriarchal oppression. A s a result, he negates a dialectic relationship, expressed by the women in their narratives, between 'formal' avenues o f power and a person's own 'informal' influence. Nelson, who deals with teachers' relationships to their working conditions in Vermont, reconfigures Quantz's conclusions regarding the relative impact o f discourse and structure.9 4 Specifically, Nelson notes that the meaning or satisfaction derived from teaching cannot be understood solely on materialist terms. Rather, she credits women's expressions o f power or oppression as having an impact on their positions and work environments. 9 5 Unlike Quantz, she concludes that women teachers' talk o f empowerment was as 'real ' as their structural context when determining their experiences of work . 9 6 The importance o f this distinction is clear in the work of Kathleen Casey. Casey, in contrast to Quantz, focuses intimately on her subjects' discursive structures and does not 39 fully explore their material realities. Her work, which sets out to be an analysis of women's experiences through the primacy o f language, is useful for historians to understand the narrative construction of the teaching self. Casey's study, however, only brings the historian so far. Her study should be complemented by a greater contextual analysis of the women's narratives. It is this type of linguistic analysis, associated with poststructuralism, which materialist feminists accuse o f presenting women's lives as floating above their contexts. Casey's work centres on reproducing dimensions o f women teachers' work for social change through the repetitive, yet distinctive concepts and metaphors they construct. She notes that she needed to identify with the particular, gender-bound, religious languages that were consistently being used by Catholic women teachers before she recognized their political theorizing. For example, Casey argues that many women would not explicitly make negative comments against administrators in their schools, yet they often described times o f school reform and disruption with the metaphor of death and sacrifice. One woman recalled the death of a fellow teacher when discussing a change in administration. 9 8 The inability of some women to vocalize their experiences must be understood with respect to the constraints they endured as both women and nuns in society. In addressing the potential for women's voices to be 'privatized,' Casey also includes body language within her discourse analysis. She recalls an interview in which a woman was recounting her choice to become a nun, and traced a figure eight in the air to represent a sense of unity among her childhood, religious life, and teaching. 9 9 Casey's ability to read for cultural meaning or the construction of language enables her to illuminate women's experiences. She fails, however, to show how women negotiated their relationships with the dominant discourses of institutions that shaped their voice, such as church, state, and school. The reader wants to know more, for 40 example, about the metaphor o f death as it related to educational discourse and work environments within this specific context. The opposite can be said for the work o f Sue Middleton and Helen May, which explores the strategies that teachers used to understand the dominant discourses and social movements that swept through New Zealand schools between 1915 and 1995. 1 0 0 Using materials from administrators, philosophers, and a cross-section of teachers, Middleton and M a y assert that they want to recapture how teaching affected and was affected by a diverse range o f issues (the purpose of schooling, the streaming of Maori children, and 'progressive' child-centered education). 1 0 1 Unfortunately, their study does not fulfil this goal, as they confuse descriptions of structural conditions with discourse analysis. What they construct is a descriptive historical account that focuses on the political irrespective of the personal, with little analysis of subjects' memories or languages. Although Middleton and M a y powerfully state ". . .now, let us listen as teachers talk teaching," they actually edit women's stories in compliance with competing dominant discourses o f education that existed during the period 102 in question. This is particularly evident as the authors admit to cleaning up the raw data, removing subjects' slang words and digressions, as well as indiscriminately incorporating their own narratives into their subjects' stories. A s a result, Middleton and May, at times, treat oral histories as anecdotal evidence. Wi th the removal of the silences, and the inattentiveness to literary devices, such as metaphors that structure speech, the reader can miss how women teachers organized or determined their subjectivities located within rapidly changing public institutions. Middleton and M a y do not examine some o f the most fascinating questions: How did the mothers whom they describe as "reserve labour" in the 1950s rationalize their careers? How did teachers feel about students who espoused racism during the tension filled decade of the 1960s? 41 A s a whole, these works demonstrate that studies o f women teachers' narratives, which are founded on an analysis o f discourse or materialism, do not provide the fullest historical explanation o f women's teaching lives, since the meaning o f these concepts are defined in relation to one another. Women's narratives are embedded within the historical and contemporary context of their lives. A s such, their oral histories reveal the societal imperatives by which they organized their narratives as effective teachers, as well as the ways women manipulated discourses to shape the structural parameters o f their working lives. Schools did not simply impose themselves upon the identities of women teachers nor did women teachers have full control over the shape o f their teaching selves within the school environment. T H E SOCIAL SELF OF T E A C H E R S ' IDENTITIES Obviously the relationship between women's discursive positioning and identity formation are inextricably linked. A t the centre o f this relationship for feminist theories and historians is how to express women as subjects. Given the focus o f poststructuralist feminism on multiple subjectivities, the concern is that readings for the material effects could create a seemingly unified 'Woman's ' discourse. Feminist standpoint theorists, for example, seek generalizable and singular definitions of 'Woman ' for political efficacy. Standpoint theorists, like Nancy Harstock, contend that women as an oppressed group, by virtue o f their material realities according to the sexual division o f labour, have a vision of social relations distinct from men . 1 0 4 She argues that this vision, struggled for by women over time, must be privileged for its unique commentary on patriarchy. 1 0 5 Dorothy Smith also acknowledges the need for researchers to begin from women's distinct standpoint. Unlike Harstock, she 42 does not argue that women's standpoint refers to an authentic women's perspective. 1 0 6 Instead, Smith argues that standpoint is a research method for understanding the ruling apparatuses that women speak to as shaping their everyday worlds. She argues that researchers, particularly those persuaded by poststructuralism, must concentrate on historically placing and embodying female subjectivity in order to check the general validity of their accounts. 1 0 7 Smith and Harstock turn to a materialist Marxist framework as a means for 'escaping' seemingly poststructuralist abstract categories o f meaning that ignore the "coordering of actual activities," or the patterns o f women's experiences, and changes in women's l ives . 1 0 8 Scholars have challenged this position, arguing that materialists' desire to locate the 'Woman's ' perspective implies that they can locate the 'authentic centre' o f the female identity through an examination o f the personal, inner l i f e . 1 0 9 Defined as such, the oppressed individual, or in this case a woman, can be politically liberated by articulating their fixed identity. Postcolonial feminists provide beneficial insight into this matter. Many strongly argue that inferences of fixed identity construction are inaccurate and continue to colonize the "Third World Woman' or the 'Black Woman' according to White Western images of their powerlessness. 1 1 0 Chandra Mohanty argues that many feminist researchers' discursive practices reproduce hegemonic public discourses o f non-Western women's identities and cultures as statically 'Other . ' 1 1 1 It is necessary to adopt, therefore, an analysis that acknowledges that women do not have a coherent self moving through history with a single identity. Instead, the self is a socially constructed, unstable identity constantly created and negotiated through both dominant, contradictory discourses and resistance to those conceptions. A l l female subjects, therefore, have agency or power for resistance, at least theoretically. The notions of 43 separated private, powerful selves from social selves, as Mikha i l Bakhtin notes, are myths. The self is defined in its encounter with the 'other,' thus the self-identity is a product of 112 social forces. A s such, a materialist or contextual analysis o f oral history, informed by the feminist poststructuralist negation o f the search for unity, is most helpful for the oral historian. This synthesized approach is illustrated in the work o f Natasha Mauthner and Andrea Doucet. In examining issues of child care and motherhood these researchers employ a relational ontology for the analysis of women's interviews. They do not read for a positivist rational self, but, rather, for women as they define themselves in relationship to the others and contexts, and as they were defined by the researcher's location within the interview. 1 1 3 The self as defined by the other should not mean that women can only control, know and define a fragment of themselves. Women can articulate a coherent identity but it is for the historian to explain the formation of that identity as an ideological struggle for agency within patriarchal and oppressive institutions and discourses. Miche l Foucault writes that " in thinking o f the mechanisms o f power [researchers should] think o f its capillary form o f existence, the point where power reaches into the very grain of individuals, touches their bodies and inserts itself into their actions, attitudes, their discourses, and everyday l ives . " 1 1 4 Identity formation needs to be deconstructed to understand the frameworks o f women's differentiated experiences. What it means to be a woman, how that is defined according to the subjects' material needs and available languages should be the main points o f exploration for the historian. Kathleen Weiler 's study of rural teachers provides one of the most beneficial, integrative analyses. She illustrates that identity formation, as revealed through women teachers' narratives, is free and structured, personal and public, as well as internally and 44 externally shaped. These contradictions are particularly clear as Weiler explores why women chose to teach. Most respondents could not provide an answer, and only a few acknowledged their limited options or the few jobs that were considered 'women's w o r k . ' 1 1 5 Despite the awareness of structural constraints, almost all women presented themselves as autonomous individuals, making personal choices. Weiler notes that women's identities as teachers were constructed around American nationalist discourses based on the freedom o f individuals to make their own futures regardless o f l imitations. 1 1 6 Contradictorily, therefore, the subjects did not challenge the idea that teaching was women's work, and they did not describe themselves in terms of'natural ' avocation, such as sacrifice, and nurturing. These women constructed themselves in opposition to stereotypical characteristics o f femininity, while also presenting narratives that reveal taken-for-granted assumptions about the restrictions women faced. Such contradictions, or what feminist historians term 'bad fits,' highlight the very point at which the subject actively negotiates her concept of self . 1 1 7 Language used to conceptualize the ' se l f is not unitary. Instead, apparent coherence obscures meanings o f class and gender that define women teachers' identities. This is evident in the narrative o f a white Protestant teacher who framed her identity as a teacher in traditional terms, asserting her respectability within the community. 1 1 8 Weiler notes how the intersections of class and gender work subversively within this narrative. The subject represents her ' s e l f as a powerful, Christian, pure woman, without reference to her financial struggles and lack of upper class associates. This woman's choice o f representation is very significant for understanding her perceptions of her status and roles in society. Kate Rousmaniere, like Weiler, reads women teachers' narratives for self-representation, rather than literal content, in her effort to examine what it meant for her subjects to be teachers in 1920s' New York . Focusing on the collectivity o f her subjects' 45 narratives, Rousmaniere seeks to understand women teachers' occupational identities. She begins this study by explaining the problems associated with categorizing teachers' identities. She argues that women teachers exist within a paradoxical position. Teaching is characterized as a profession, but exists under close supervision; it is a middle class career but has a high proportion of marginalized groups." 9 A n analysis o f such incongruencies reveals the thin line historians tread between exploring common themes among narratives and over-generalizing, thus imposing an essentialist identity on the woman teacher. Foremost, however, it is evident to the reader that locating the identity of women teachers as a group means that the historian and the subject must negotiate the context of women's work in relation to intersections of class, gender, 'race,' sexuality, region, age and so on. For Rousmaniere, that means exploring the recurring themes of narratives in order to provide herself with a tentative roadmap to the internal and external ordering o f teachers' subjectivities. She concludes from this map that women teachers created an identity for themselves as semi-independent workers. 1 2 0 A s a result, teachers maintained some individual control and personal integrity for their job, but worked in isolation that discouraged effective change through unionization. Rousmaniere argues that this collective identity shaped both city teachers' work and their responses to that work. Whi le Weiler and Rousmaniere argue that the formation of identities for women teachers was defined primarily by accommodation, Kathleen Casey provides oppositional readings. Casey argues that the 'progressive' female subjects she interviewed consistently resisted or reinterpreted dominant and conservative constructions o f their identities as teachers. The subversion of dominant meanings to represent the identities o f women teachers is particularly explicit in the narratives of black women teachers. These black women teachers use their narratives to disclose, disguise and remake their identities. In doing so 46 they are exposing racist stereotypes produced by whites, undermining the construction o f race as biological category, and asserting their power to articulate their own identities. 1 2 2 For example, within black women's narratives, whites often appear as caricatures, the timeless slave narrative provides a framework, and the meaning o f derogatory words, such as mammy, are transformed into more powerful characters. 1 2 3 While less likely to directly state the constraints o f school life, these narratives represent the diversity, agency, limitations, personal and public frameworks that shape women teachers' identities in specific national contexts. Women's oral histories are embedded narratives, to which historians need to be attuned. Feminist theorists, based on Habermas' work on communicative action, argue that women can only know 'themselves' once they have reflected upon their "own structural 'embeddedness' in formal and informal political and language structures." 1 2 4 Women thereby negotiate and act upon difference " in relation, and response, to meaningful social interactions with others." 1 2 5 Women's oral histories are at once, therefore, individual and social stories. These texts, as a field, reveal the productive tensions offered by feminist poststructuralist and materialist readings for women teachers' oral histories. Their findings require historians to elicit, and listen carefully for, the interrelated concepts of historical knowledge, discourse and identity, as they are the central organizing principles for women teachers' oral narratives and the historians' representations o f those narratives. A n integrated reading reveals how school structures shaped women teachers' identities, while also demonstrating the ways women invoked cultural discourses, such as the school as family, to assert their authority. B y openly acknowledging the complex production of oral 47 history, historians can understand that their research priorities, such as teacher resistance or structure of the one-room schoolhouse, must co-exist with women teachers' priorities, such as their daily workload. A n integrated analysis also highlights that the diverse definitions of work are dependent on the discourses available for women's social status. The historian can understand how white women teachers focus on education as community building, while black women teachers focus on education as a freedom struggle. A n integrated analysis further reveals how an individual woman teacher's lack of'official' autonomy can depend on her perceptions of collective power for women teachers. As Joan Sangster notes, poststructural analysis helps to deconstruct the narrative form of scripts for meanings in women's oral histories and to acknowledge the construction of the narrative as text by both researcher and researched. 1 2 6 She further argues that feminist materialist insights are heeded to focus historians to examine the ways relations of power shape women's choices within social, cultural, political and economic boundaries. 1 2 7 Although the approaches are often contested within feminist theory, it is an integrated feminist poststructuralist and materialist analysis for women teachers' oral history that provides a framework for 'good' feminist research. This framework provides a guide for my analysis of women teachers' oral histories in twentieth-century Canada that can cross the often unstable and dichotomizing post-modern bridge. The deconstruction of women's teachers' narratives reveals the structuring paradigms and processes that have shaped women's individual and collective material realities in our educational past. 48 An earlier version of this chapter has been published: "When Oral Historians Listen to Teachers: Using Feminists' Findings," Oral History Forum 23 (2003): 89-112. 4 4 Sandra Harding, "Introduction," in Feminism and Methodology, ed. S. Harding (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), 8-9. 4 5 Shulamit Reinharz, "Neglected Voices and Excessive Demands in Feminist Research," Qualitative Sociology 16(1993): 71-72. 4 6 Barbara Johnson, A World of Difference, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), 37. 4 7 Jennifer Wicke, "Celebrety Material: Materialist Feminism and the Culture of Celebrety." The South Atlantic Quarterly (Fall 1994): 741. 4 8 Judith Butler, "For a Careful Reading," in Feminist Contentions: A Philosophical Exchange, ed. S. Benhabib, J. Butler, D. Cornell, and N . Fraser (New York: Routledge, 1995), 127-128. 4 9 Nancy Fraser and Linda Nicholson, "Social criticism without philosophy: An encounter between feminism and post-modernism," in 77ze Postmodern turn: New perspectives on social theory, ed. S. Siedman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 5 0 Joan Sangster, "Telling Our Stories: Feminist Debates and the Use of Oral History," in Rethinking Canada: The Promise of Women's History, Third Edition, ed. V . Strong-Boag and A . Fellman. (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1997), 317. 5 1 Feminist researchers have begun to challenge the monolithic characterization of these two 'camps' of thought. The diversity of analysis within poststructuralism and materialism is not central to this study, but, rather, the permeable boundaries between them are explored. 5 2 Majorie Theobald, "Teachers, memory and oral history," in Telling Women's Lives: Narrative Inquiries in the History of Women's Education, ed. K . Weiler and S. Middleton (Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1999), 21. 5 3 Luisa Passerini, "Women's Personal Narratives: Myths, Experiences, and Emotions," in Interpreting Women's Lives: Feminist Theory and Personal Narratives, ed. Personal Narratives Group (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989), 197. 5 4 For an overview of work in the field of teachers' oral history, see Jack Doughterty, "From Anecdote to Analysis: Oral interview and New Scholarship in Educational History," Journal of American History 86, no.2 (1999): 712-723; Ivor F. Goodson, "Studying Teachers' Lives: A n Emergent Field of Inquiry," in Studying Teachers' Lives, ed. I. Goodson (London: Routledge, 1992). For an overview of research in the more specific area of women educators' oral histories, see Peter Cunningham, "Narrative and Text: Women, Teachers and Oral History," History of Education 29, no.3 (2000): 273-280; Kathleen Weiler and Sue Middleton, "Introduction," in Telling Women's Lives: Narrative Inquiries in the History of Women's Education, ed. K . Weiler and S. Middleton (Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1999). 5 5 Kathleen Weiler, "Reflections on writing a history of women teachers," in Telling Women's Lives: Narrative Inquiries in the History of Women's Education, ed. K . Weiler and S. Middleton 49 (Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1999), 44. Weiler discusses briefly the importance of understanding some of these concepts when utilizing oral histories of women teachers. 5 6 See, for example, Kathleen Casey, "Why do Progressive Women Activists Leave Teaching?: Theory, methodology, and politics in life-history research," in Studying Teachers' Lives, ed. I. Goodson. (London: Routledge, 1992); Passerini, "Women's Personal Narratives." 5 7 Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology (Maryland: John Hopkins University Press, 1976). 5 8 Joan Scott, "Experience," in Feminists Theorize the Political, ed. J. Butler and J.W. Scott (New York: Routledge, 1992). 5 9 Richard A . Quantz, "The Complex Vision of Female Teachers and the Failure of Unionization in the 1930s: An Oral History," in The Teacher's Voice: A Social History of Teaching in Twentieth Century America, ed. R.J. Altenbaugh (London: Falmer Press, 1992), 139-140. 6 0 Ibid., 153-155. See, also, Richard A . Quantz, "Interpretive Method In Historical Research: Ethnography Reconsidered," in The Teacher's Voice: A Social History of Teaching in Twentieth Century America, ed. R.J. Altenbaugh (London: Falmer Press, 1992). 6 1 Rousmaniere, City Teachers, 1-2. 6 2 Ibid., 3-8. 63 Ibid., 9 6 4 Sandra Harding, "Conclusion," in Feminism and Methodology, ed. S. Harding (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), 182-184; Spalter-Roth, Roberta and Heidi Hartmann, "Small Happiness: The Feminist Struggle to Integrate Social Research with Social Activism," in Feminist Approaches to Theory and Methodology, ed. S. Hesse-Biber, C. Gilmartin and R. Lydenberg (New York: Oxford, 1999), 334-336. 6 5 Harding, "Conclusion," 184. See also, Spalter-Roth and Hartmann, "Small Happiness." 6 6 Spalter-Roth and Heidi Hartmann, 340-341. 6 7 Donna Haraway, Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: the reinvention of nature (New York: Routledge, 1991), 191. 6 8 Ibid., 188. 6 9 Ibid., 187. 7 0 Joy Parr, "Gender History and Historical Practice," in Gender and History in Canada, ed. Joy Parr and Mark Rosenfeld (Toronto: Copp Clark Ltd., 1996). 7 1 Paul Thompson, Voice of the Past: Oral History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 90. 7 2 Alice Duffy Rinehart, Mortal in the Immortal Profession: an oral history of teaching (New York: Irvington Publishers, 1983), v. 50 Ibid. Review by Richard Altenbaugh, "Introduction," in The Teacher's Voice: A Social History of Teaching in Twentieth Century America, ed. Richard J. Altenbaugh (London: Falmer Press, 1992), 3. 7 4 Kathleen Weiler, "Remembering and representing life choices: a critical perspective on teachers' oral history narratives," Qualitative Studies in Education 5, no.l (1992): 40. 7 5 Michele Barrett, "Words and Things: Materialism and Method in Contemporary Feminist Analysis," in Destabilizing Theory: Contemporary Feminist Debates, edited by M . Barrett and A . Phillips (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1992), 211. 7 6 Leslie Rebecca Bloom, "Stories of One's Own: Nonunitary Subjectivity in Narrative Representation," Qualitative Inquiry 2, no.2 (1996): 176-188. 7 7 Wolf, Diane, "Situating Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork," in Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork, edited by D. Wolf (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1996), 2-3. Methodological issues such as these are explored at length in the following resources: Lynda Measor and Patricia Sikes, "Visiting Lives: Ethics and Methodology in Life History," in Studying Teachers' Lives, ed. I. Goodson (London: Routledge, 1992); Sherna-Berger Gluck and Daphne Patai (ed.), Women's Words: the feminist practice of oral history (New York: Routledge, 1991); Joyce McCarl Nielsen (ed.), Feminist Research Methods: Exemplary Readings in the Social Sciences (Boulder: Westview Press, 1990). 7 8 Wolf, "Situating Femininst Dilemmas in Fieldwork," 34-36 7 9 Kathleen Weiler, Country Schoolwomen: Teaching in Rural California, 1850-1950 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998), 1-7; Kathleen Weiler, "Reflections on writing a history of women teachers." She discusses various uses of the same sample of subjects. 8 0 Weiler, "Reflections on writing a history of women teachers," 45-55. 8 1 Ibid., 55-56. 8 2 Kathleen Casey, I Answer with My Life: Life Histories of Women Teachers Working for Social Change (New York: Routledge, Inc. 1993), 13-17; Kathleen Casey, "Why do Progressive Women Activists Leave Teaching?" In this article she uses the same subjects' narratives as in her book, I Answer With My Life. 8 3 Casey, I Answer With My Life, 8-9. 8 4 Ibid., 69-71. A similar point is made clear in the narratives of religious Catholic women teachers. 8 5 Barrett, "Words and Things," 202-203. 8 6 Ibid. Barrett discusses feminist poststructuralist critiques of a single causality of women's oppression. 8 7 For example, critiques of Judith Butler, Gender Troubles: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, Chapman and Hall Incorporated, 1990). 51 Casey, I Answer With My Life, 31. 8 9 Parr, "Gender History and Historical Practice," 15 Parr states: "Experience, this is to say, is formed through discourses. Experiences are not made by discourses, but discourses are the medium through which experiences are comprehensible. Thus the study of the elements from which experience is constituted is not a diversion from the analysis of power, but a way to understand how power works." 9 0 M . Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), as quoted by Casey, I Answer With My Life, 20-21. 9 1 Popular Memory Group, "Popular memory: Theory, politics, method," in Making Histories, eds. R. Johnson, G. McLennan, B . Schwartz, D. Sutton (London: Hutchinson, 1982), 228-234. See, also, Peter Munro, Subject to Fiction: Women Teachers' Life History Narratives and the Cultural Politics of Resistance (Buckingham: Open University Press, 1998). 9 2 Quantz, "The Complex Vision of Female Teacher," 142-146. 9 3 Ibid., 145-148. 94 Ibid., 156. 9 5 Margaret K . Nelson, "From the One-Room Schoolhouse to the Graded School: Teaching in Vermont, 1910-1950," Frontiers 7, no.l (1983): 14-15 and 19. See, also, Margaret K . Nelson, "Female Schoolteachers as Community Builders," in The Teachers's Voice: A Social History of Teaching in Twentieth Century America, ed. R.J. Altenbaugh (London: Falmer Press, 1992); Margaret K . Nelson, "The Intersection of Home and Work: Rural Vermont Schoolteachers, 1915-1950," in The Teacher's Voice: Social History of Teaching in Twentieth Century America, ed. R.J. Altenbaugh (London: Falmer Press, 1992); Margaret K . Nelson, "Using Oral Case Histories to Reconstruct the Experiences of Women Teachers in Vermont, 1900-1950," in Studying Teachers' Lives, ed. I. Goodson (London: Routledge, 1992). 9 6 Nelson, "From the One-Room Schoolhouse to the Graded School," 15-16 and 19 9 7 Casey, I Answer With My Life, 31. 9 8 Ibid., 42-43. 9 9 Ibid. ,48. 1 0 0 The description of the method of interviewing and sampling is provided in both of the following resources: Sue Middleton and Helen May, "Disciplining the teaching body 1968-78: progressive education and feminism in New Zealand," in Telling Women's Lives: Narrative Inquiries in the History of Women's Education, ed. K . Weiler, and S. Middleton (Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1999), 76; Sue Middleton and Helen May, Teachers Talk Teaching, 1915-1995: Early Childhood Schools and Teachers' Colleges (New Zealand: Dunmore Press, 1997), 9-17. 1 0 1 Middleton and May, Teachers Talk Teaching. This work is reviewed by Laura Docter Thornburg, "Review of Teachers Talk about Teaching, 1915-1995: Early Childhood Schools and Teachers' Colleges," History of Education Quarterly 38 (1998). 52 1 0 2 Middleton and May, Teachers Talk Teaching, 17. 1 0 3 Ibid., 9-17. 1 0 4 Nancy Harstock, "The Feminist Standpoint," in Feminism and Methodology, ed. S. Harding. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), 159-160. See also, Patricia Hi l l Collins, "Learning from Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought," in Feminist Approaches to Theory and Methodology: an interdisciplinary reader, ed. S. Hesse-Biber, C. Gilmartin and R. Lydenberg (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). Collins discusses the distinct standpoint of Black women academics (as Outsiders Within) to influence the knowledge interrogation of concepts such as family and culture. She argues that her outsider within status enables an analysis of women's experiences based on the simultaneity of oppressions (class, race, gender).. 1 0 5 Ibid. 1 0 6 Dorothy Smith, 772e Everyday World as Problematic (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987), 111. 1 0 7 Ibid, 108 and 122. 1 0 8 Ibid., 141. 1 0 9 Barrett, "Words and Things," 210. 1 1 0 Chandra Talpade Mohanty, "Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses," in Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism, ed. C.Mohanty, A . Russo, and L . Torres (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), 54. 1 1 1 Ibid. 1 1 2 Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination, as paraphrased by Casey, I Answer With My Life, 26. 1 1 3 Natasha Mauthner and Andrea Doucet, "Reflections on a Voice-centred Relational Method," in Feminist Dilemmas in Qualitative Research: Public Knowledge and Private Lives, ed. J. Ribbens and R. Edwards (London: Sage, 1998), 125-133. 1 1 4 Michel Foucault, Discipline and punish. 1 1 5 Weiler, "Remembering and representing life histories," 44-46. 1 1 6 Ibid., 46. 117 Ibid., 43. 1 1 8 Weiler, "Reflections on writing a history of women teachers," 52-54. See, for example, Weiler, Country Schoolwomen. 53 1 1 9 Rousmaniere, City Teachers, 5-7. Her point is particularly relevant for the urban teaching force in the United States. See, also, Kate Rousmaniere, "Where Haley Stood: Margaret Haley, teachers' work, and the problem of teacher identity," in Telling Women's Lives: Narrative Inquiries in the History of Women's Education, ed. K . Weiler and S. Middleton (Philadelphia: Open University Press, 1999). 120 Ibid. She discusses this theme in most chapters. 1 2 1 Ibid., 135. 122 Ibid., chapter " A Signifying Discourse of Black Women Teachers Working for Social Change." 1 2 3 Ibid. 1 2 4 Jurgen Habermas, The Theory of Communicative Action, Volume 2 (translated by T. McArthy) (Boston: Beacon Press, 1993), as cited by J. Dillabough, "Gender Politics and Conceptions of the Modern Teacher," 387. 125 Ibid. 1 2 6 Joan Sangster, "Telling Our Stories," 317. 1 2 7 Ibid. 54 Chapter 2 The Post-WWII Objectives for Educational 'Democracy' in Secondary Schools To understand the position of women teachers, we must first examine the objectives that shaped their work as agents for post-World War II Canadian secondary schools. This chapter outlines the ideological terrain women teachers had to negotiate before turning, in the following chapters, to their position within and reaction to the broad social shifts in education during the period. Most Canadian educational historians who examine the purposes of schooling, whether they focus on issues of curriculum and instruction or policy and administration, debate the extent to which progressive or traditional theories of schooling shaped education systems. Notable historians, from Henry Johnson to Robert Stamp and Ne i l Sutherland, have declared traditionalism the winner o f this debate. 1 2 8 They argue, with Ontario or British Columbia as the typical references, that Canadian education systems did not embrace progressivism in the same manner as schools in the United States, and, that progressivism, when included in schooling, was primarily confined to the elementary level. These scholars conclude that Canadian secondary schools held strong to traditional philosophies until well past the mid-twentieth century. Robert Stamp makes the specific case that post-WWII secondary schools were marked by a back to basics curriculum focused on traditional subjects of history, English and languages, teachers with liberal arts backgrounds, and the physical expansion in the number and size o f schools themselves. 1 2 9 Provincial governments and boards of education sought to ensure a formalist mandate through prescriptive curriculum, enforced by school inspectors who evaluated teaching techniques, and capped by province-wide matriculation examinations that served to regulate student learning. 1 3 0 55 Other educational historians, including Paul Axelrod and Robert Gidney, assert that a picture of traditionalism is not that clear. They recognize elements of progressivism within all levels of twentieth-century Canadian schools. 1 3 1 Robert Gidney notes in his book, From Hope to Harris: The Reshaping of Ontario's Schools, that post-war secondary institutions, with the growing prominence of psychology, utilized progressivism, which challenged traditional pedagogy and ushered in new theories of child learning. The rapid growth o f urbanization and consumerism demanded a new curriculum relevant to the modern w o r l d . 1 3 2 The implementation of vocational programs, and an emphasis on 'child centered' and experiential learning, both in the physical organization of the classroom and instructional methods, similarly symbolized ingredients of educational progressivism in the secondary school system. 1 3 3 While addressing this long standing historiographical debate, Gidney contends in passing that the popularization of the concept 'democracy' in post-WWII Canada brought elements o f progressivism into schools. Indeed most scholars have assumed that progressivism, with its promise of gentle guidance, student choice and experiential-based learning, was the model for a democratic education. That association was not novel. John Dewey, a father o f progressive pedagogy, explained: "democratic social arrangements promote better quality of human experience, one which is more widely accessible and enjoyed, than do non-democratic and anti-democratic forms o f social l i f e . " 1 3 4 How could Dewey's ideal of'democratic' education have been a popular objective for post-war schools i f traditionalism, with its focus on academic elitism, authoritarian pedagogy, and formal discipline, was the major influence? Have Axelrod and Gidney overestimated signs of progressivism in post-war secondary schools? 56 Posing these particular questions is not, however, especially helpful, perpetuating as it does the idea that post-war education was caught between two purely antagonistic modes o f thought. Within this binary model, progressivism produced good, democratic schools and, by contrast, traditionalism was undemocratic and bad. Such a dichotomy is especially unhelpful when exploring the popularity of 'democracy' as an objective for post-war public secondary schools. First, 'democracy' was not the preserve of the 'Progressive Educator. ' 1 3 5 Second, the majority o f educators, namely, administrators and teachers, did not fit these two discreet ideological categories. Third, educational 'democracy' for post-war Canada was not necessarily synonymous with egalitarian ambitions. While historians may want to declare winners and losers in this debate of theoretical influences, education officials from the period resisted clear and consistent definitions of progressivism and traditionalism. Except for the exceptional individual, like conservative scholar Hi lda Neatby or progressive educator George Weir, most academics and commentators did not proclaim full allegiance to either dogma. Instead, most post-war educators claimed to work in the name of 'democracy.' While this had been a central focus for compulsory education since Confederation, the concept has taken on particular urgency in moments o f national crisis. 'Democracy' gained renewed prominence in the 1940s and 1950s as citizens sought to avoid totalitarianism in the wake of the Holocaust, ensure participatory citizenship at a time o f growing c iv i l rights and decolonization movements, and assert the superiority o f Western democracies to communist regimes. Public schools offered a means to counter all these dangers. Secondary schools with their special role in forming apprentice adults into citizens, rather than their elementary feeders, supplied primary targets for educational democracy. 'Democratic' rhetoric was a central part o f the pedagogical agenda, inclusive of both progressive and traditional influences. Public education, along 57 with other burgeoning social institutions and services in the areas of recreation, health and employment, was intended to uphold liberal democracy. To that end, education officials touted the need for the best of both old (traditional) and new (progressive) theories to produce superior sites of every kind. In his much over-looked later work, Dewey makes just this case: democratic education cannot be defined by divisive 'isms,' the learning of skills or historical values, and teaching to the child or the 136 subject. After WWII , commentators used democratic maxims of unity and accord in several collections o f essays on Canadian schools. In one contribution, W . H . Swift, Deputy Minister of Education in Alberta, expressed the democratic impulse for education as an era of Hegelian synthesis. Swift did not assert that progressive and traditional theories would be easily blended, "since some concepts are diametrically opposed," but insisted that "we are attempting to create the best we can by way of reconciliation.. .the old and the new and, in so far as human ingenuity permits, improve on both." 1 3 7 In a similar peace-making tone, Sperrin N . F . Chant, Dean o f Arts and Science at the University of British Columbia and author o f the British Columbia Royal Commission on Education in the late 1950s, reflected on the debate between progressives' emphasis on individual needs versus traditionalists' emphasis on the requirements o f the nation: "No attempt w i l l be made here to disentangle these two basic functions o f Canadian education, they are complementary and should merge 138 harmoniously in every feature o f the educational programme." Swift's and Chant's words differed little from those o f their contemporaries who, similarly working in the name of democracy, promised schooling free o f dissension and partaking of a range of the best educational methods. The rhetoric o f educational 'democracy,' encompassing both the democratization of schools and educating of citizens to uphold a democratic nation promised individual 58 autonomy, equality, and order in an era o f seeming instability. Such guarantees reflect the often generic quality of much 'democracy' talk which rather vaguely publicized post-war democratic education as everyone's business. Post-war democratic rhetoric or discourse was not, however, simply words without consequences. A s much recent scholarship reminds us, discourse "denotes statements, practices, and assumptions that share a linguistic coherence and work to identify and describe a problem or an area of concern." Here I understand 'democratic rhetoric' to include the policies, standards and assumptions educators embraced to produce ideal post-war citizens. Canadian historians, such as Doug Owram, Shirley Tillotson, Mona Gleason and Mary Louise Adams, have explained that definitions of citizenship, which existed under the popular banner o f national egalitarianism, served to contain those qualities and practices that lay outside the desired post-war norms. 1 4 0 Educational 'democracy' in the 1940s and '50s promised universal access, social services and local autonomy. These 'democratic' offerings simultaneously re-affirmed the ideal citizens as productive individuals who would self-govern according to their positions within the social stratification of a capitalist, Judeo-Christian, and ultimately imperialist society that enshrined the nuclear family. Educational democracy, expressed through both progressive and traditional philosophies, was never primarily humanitarian. Rather, democracy was conservatively interpreted to preserve an orderly and superior 'democratic' state. 1 4 1 Despite the recognized popularity of 'democratization' in the post-war national agenda, few educational historians have explicitly examined how policy-makers, administrators, and 'experts' translated 'democracy' on the ground. 1 4 2 Even fewer have taken a comparative approach to determine whether this agenda was a regional phenomenon or more national. It is for this purpose that the thesis centres on a regional analysis o f 59 Toronto and Vancouver. The comparison, between 'hogtown,' with its 'Tory ' legacy, and the Pacific Gateway, with its 'pioneering' heritage, provides a valuable opportunity to measure the relative potential of democratic pedagogy. A n examination o f provincial policies and local programming demonstrates that regional legacies hold true to a certain extent. British Columbia had more officials who used Deweyan rhetoric for progressive-oriented programming, such as individualized timetables and guidance/psychological services for secondary school students. Ontario secondary schools were more traditionally t academic in orientation, but still embraced greater local autonomy for schools and teachers than prior to WWII , particularly in the area of curriculum planning. Despite differences, national trends and ideology, as illustrated through senior academic and political discourses across the country, ultimately prevailed even though public education was in Canada a provincial responsibility. In ways that were reminiscent of some o f the common pre-WWI trends identified by Jean Barman and others, when nationally-oriented 'schoolmen' and women were at work, such as British Columbia's first superintendent of education John Jessop and the McQueen sisters, English Canada's two dominant centres were in substantial agreement in the years after 1945 as they faced pressures to protect the West against 'godless' communism. 1 4 3 This chapter explores three areas in which potential Tiberatory' trends were evident on both a national and local level for secondary schools. The first is curriculum or the programming for schools. Programming changes post-WWII included increased vocational training within the diversified course offerings o f composite or comprehensive secondary schools. Enhanced equality o f initial opportunity was compromised by policies that sorted students into intellectual streams, academic elites and future blue-collared workers. 60 The second area is character education. Wi th formal guidance departments, supported by psychologists, and the introduction o f more social studies courses, educators embraced secondary schools as a social service, responsible for ensuring maximum personal growth for every individual. The teaching of seemingly universal values, like good-will, tolerance, and loyalty, was matched by a simultaneous emphasis on 'responsible' citizenship and the merits of social hierarchy. The third aim was school re-organization or administrative reform. In the post-war period, educators sought to re-organize the school as a microcosm for participatory democracy, where local autonomy was honoured in decision-making processes and supervision practices. Autonomy was offered by educators within the boundaries of consolidated, central systems and for the purpose of encouraging citizens' independence from the social welfare net. In brief then, this chapter unravels the contradictory ways 'democratic' rhetoric was invoked for learning 'effective' citizenship, from national discourses about Canadian education to the debates within Toronto and Vancouver school boards. ' D E M O C R A T I Z I N G ' THE C U R R I C U L U M In the years following W W I I academics and political and administrative officials spoke o f a two-pronged objective for the secondary curriculum: a universal education open to all , but also aimed at producing an intellectual elite. The post-war secondary school was to have a broadening, seemingly 'progressive' purpose in developing the average citizen. In line with the inclusion o f education under article 26 of the United Nations' 1948 Declaration o f Human Rights, the official mandate for many Canadian educators o f the time was the gospel 61 of universalism. Secondary schools were meant to produce a mass population that was literate, technically trained, and knowledgeable. H . L . Campbell, Deputy Superintendent of Education for British Columbia, under the Liberal-Conservative Coalition, and author o f well-known curriculum texts during the period, stated that "democracy, or progress based on the w i l l o f the majority, is in danger i f the average citizen is ignorant." 1 4 4 Stanley Spicer, Vice-President o f the Canadian Association for Health, Physical Education and Recreation, writing on fitness in the expansion or re-construction of post-war curriculum, commented: "The problem of educating the many, with wide differences in I.Q. background, and ambition, is tremendous. The answer lies not in the restricted curriculum o f years ago.. .education must help boys and girls prepare for life in a democratic society - a life in which they can make their maximum contribution." 1 4 5 Both men would have applauded trends which saw rates of attendance in high school rise. While in the 1940s only 28 percent of students ages fourteen to seventeen in British Columbia were attending grade nine or higher, by 1955 that figure rose to over 55 percent. 1 4 6 For three to five years, the secondary school was becoming a common experience in the lives of most urban teenagers and thus an all the more appropriate site for social reconstruction. 1 4 7 Vocational education, or the preparation of citizens for useful employment, was one outgrowth o f the 'democratization' of school curriculum. The events o f Wor ld War I encouraged educators and others, most notably parents, to question secondary education's preparation purely for the professions. WWI I made the effective training o f trades' workers all the more urgent. The prosperity of the 1940s and '50s with their growing urban infrastructure, which included new schools to accommodate Toronto and Vancouver's population boom, highways, railways, and hydro-electric projects, afforded parents the chance to have their children in school with the fair certainty that graduates could obtain a 62 job, at least in the expanding blue-collar sector. Politicians across Canada responded to such hopes. The federal government, led by Liberal Prime Minister Wi l l i am Lyon Mackenzie K i n g , implemented the 1942 Vocational Training Coordination Ac t that funded vocational programs in secondary schools. 1 4 9 In 1944, Ottawa entered into an Apprenticeship Agreement with most provinces. 1 5 0 These acts spurred changes at the local level that enabled more student choice of technical/vocational programs in secondary schools. B y the early part o f the 1950s, most Toronto secondary schools were establishing new business and industrial courses. For example, Malvern Collegiate Institute created a commercial department, while Bloor Collegiate Institute increased its Industrial Arts and Crafts courses. 1 5 1 A t much the same time, the Vancouver Board of Trustees announced the renovation of Industrial Arts shops and Home Economics laboratories in more than six 152 secondary schools. When speaking at a 1956 Canadian symposium, B . F. Addy, principal o f the Manitoba Technical Institute, pointed to the 'democratic' impetus for burgeoning vocational and industrial education initiatives: "The strength of Canada and its progress as a nation is inseparately bound with the skills and technical and scientific knowledge o f its people. We must ever maintain a productive people i f we are to remain free." 1 5 3 The pure vocational or technical school, however, was unusual. Educators sought a less divisive and more egalitarian 'democratic' model. The most common pedagogical pattern was the 'one-size-fits-all' composite or comprehensive secondary school. Such initiatives combined the technical institute and academic high school, but also provided instruction in general education for non-university bound students who did not want to declare a vocation. This model provided for diversified programming, inclusive of three graduation programs for university, general or technical education, alternative courses for slow and gifted children, and a greater number of elective courses. The composite school v 63 meant a significant curriculum overhaul to address individualized needs of students and to fulfill the ideal o f education for 'every man's child. ' Reflecting on the comprehensive school model sweeping across most Canadian provinces, Winnipeg'principal and Assistant Superintendent, Ewart H. Morgan, wrote: "The Canadian high school today is one of our democracy's great experiments. It adventurously undertakes to gather in the masses of our teen-age youth and to provide them a large part of the cohesive elements that bind them into a Canadian people." 1 5 4 Implementing decisions made just prior to the war, the Vancouver Board established seven new or re-structured six-year composite secondary schools, to replace most separate junior high and high schools (grade seven to twelve with senior matriculation). 1 5 5 The larger composite school and its wider range of study options enabled the Vancouver Board to introduce individual timetables as opposed to class timetables and to experiment with the innovative use of majors for students. 1 5 6 H . M . Evans, Registrar o f the Department of Education for British Columbia, stated in 1958 that the province committed itself to a comprehensive policy in an "attempt to satisfy.. .the extensive requirements o f mass secondary education in its varied communities." 1 5 7 In the Toronto area at the time, the majority of secondary students experienced comprehensive programming within four year collegiate institutes (grade nine to twelve with senior matriculation), retaining junior high schools for middle grades. This course o f study included fewer options for students than in Vancouver, as more core academic subjects were necessary for graduation. These core courses were accompanied, however, by additional options in home economics, commercial subjects, business, typewriting, and shop. Speaking o f post-war trends in education, C C . Goldring, the director o f the Toronto Board of Education from 1951 to 1959, emphasized that the Board needed "classes and schools that were organized differently to meet the 64 varying needs." 1 5 9 For example, in 1952 alone North Toronto Collegiate Institute ( C L ) , Harbord C.I., Humberside C L , Jarvis C L , Oakwood C.I. and Riverdale C L experimented with remedial programs in most o f their academic subjects, and intensified their guidance departments to assist students in selecting courses to ensure successful completion. 1 6 0 Although based on differing strategies, the annual reports from both the Vancouver and Toronto Boards signal that secondary schools were no longer meant to be preparatory colleges for elites. Instead, secondary schools became focal points for ensuring a breadth o f moral, physical, and labour force competence. Attempts to increase and diversify programs to include all types o f students did not necessarily result in equality within the system or the 'democratic' community. Board officials in both cities promised universality and inclusion in response to complaints that schools failed too many students. Matriculation was still most common among the middle-upper class but enrolment increasingly included a growing urban immigrant population. 1 6 1 Although the average girl or boy was attending school for more years than ever, the majority of those who entered high school failed to graduate. Figures across Canada show that only approximately one quarter of students attained high school graduation in 1956. 1 6 2 Retention rates in urban centres were typically higher than in rural areas but only one-quarter to one-third of students were completing grade twelve in Toronto. 1 6 3 Statistics were significantly higher for British Columbia, and specifically Vancouver: approximately 50 percent o f children were completing grade twelve in the early to mid-1950s. 1 6 4 Statistical variation could, however, reflect a number of factors from the lure o f employment opportunities and the socio-economic demographics of the school population to inconsistent data collection methods. I f post-war educators' assertions o f the correlation between curriculum and retention rates are accurate, however, then a central factor may also 65 have been the different types o f post-war comprehensive schools in the two cities. Vancouver secondary schools were more comprehensive, housing six levels and more individualized student plans. Toronto, while certainly working towards similar goals, kept a four year graduation program within its predominant collegiate institute, which retained fewer options outside academic subjects. In any case, Toronto vice-principals, to a much greater degree than their Vancouver counterparts, made retention a primary initiative for the early 1950s by conducting surveys on the causes o f drop out rates and measures to of address this issue. 1 6 5 The seemingly more academic bias of Toronto's programming may have been a tacit acknowledgement of the unrealistic hope for equality of vocational and academic programs within mass secondary education. This point was made explicit by Ralph Tyler, University of Chicago Professor o f Education and renowned curriculum theorist, who wrote in the 1953 issue of the British Columbia Teachers' Federation ( B C T F ) newsletter, The B.C. Teacher. "We have been doing something about getting more and more o f our youth population into the school, but all too often we have failed to realize that equal opportunity is not thus assured. Many children, because o f their limited background, are not receiving in the school the opportunity.. .to live as intelligent citizens in a free society." 1 6 6 Tyler 's remarks accurately describe the post-war secondary school in which general education was offered to one and all , yet students were still not positioned to reap its touted benefits equally. A survey conducted in 1957 by the Vancouver School Board showed that only 31 percent o f grade twelve students had chosen the General Program. From 1945 to 1961, only approximately 27 percent of the total secondary school population in Toronto was participating in non-academic programs. Even with a poor graduate rate, it is l ikely students remained in university entrance programs because employers, parents and educators 66 continued to believe in its prestige over the stigma attached to general and vocational streams in schools. 1 6 8 A s Canadian historian Harry Smaller points out, based on the work o f American sociologist Aaron Benavot, while some have seen the development o f vocational education as a moral commitment to equal educational opportunity, others have observed it as "a natural outcome of expanding democratic societies bent on integrating and socializing new cit izens." 1 6 9 He supports this latter point by arguing that in Ontario most pure vocational and technical institutes were situated in working-class, immigrant, and industrial urban communities. Ron Hansen's work on composite schools explains that its growth can be attributed, in part, to the hope that the public would have confidence in a new and better school concept that embraced expanding notions of egalitarianism. A t the same time, he argues, the concept originated in England, and flourished in post-war Canada, when policy makers needed to create the perception o f comprehensiveness in order to temper potential public unrest over class differentials, including class-based schools. 1 7 0 It is not difficult to see how the democratic innovation of the inclusive and flexible post-war curriculum, could also be viewed as a giant sorting system to funnel students along pre-determined channels. In the context of post-war Canada, many public commentators were not subtle in communicating their belief that general and/or vocational education was a suitable dumping ground for 'unsuitable students,' namely, newly arrived immigrants, working class youth or even the 'retarded,' who might become semi-educated workers to meet the demands of industry in an expanding capitalist society. In 1957, Dorothy Thompson, a columnist for the Globe and Mail, described general education as "utilitarianism at the expense of precise knowledge, and apparently assumes the average American (Canadian) child is half-171 moron." These sentiments were echoed by education officials. George M . Weir, self- , 67 proclaimed progressive, Head of the Department of Education at the University of British Columbia, and later Minister o f Education under successive Liberal governments, described the early stages of vocational training in the following manner: "There are jobs for the fit, and we are trying to fit the unfit for jobs. That is the whole purpose o f our vocational 172 training." C C . Goldring explained his policy o f inclusiveness as experimenting to "adapt programmes to the abilities and needs of students with limited capacities.. .not curtailing pupils' preparation for higher education." 1 7 3 For these educators, the paramount problem was not actually mass education or children of ' l imi ted capacities,' it was the gifted child. Educators were anxious that the intellectual elite, seen as the future leaders of the nation, could be lost in the masses. A t a 1956 conference held at the University of British Columbia and covered extensively by The B. C. Teacher, an executive for Imperial O i l Limited expressed the widespread belief that the security of the nation was dependent on the secondary school focusing on the small group "whom we call the gifted." 1 7 4 Society, he argued, relies on the gifted "for pioneering advances in knowledge, for expert opinion in all fields, and for the leadership upon which the fate of our Western civilization must ultimately depend." 1 7 5 Discovering and developing untapped human intelligence was critical to post-war educators. This resource was considered one o f the greatest weapons in the intelligence race o f the period; a race that reached its peak with Russian's Sputnik in 1957. School promoters used Soviet technological and scientific advancements as a reason to focus on intellectual leaders. In 1957 Dr. Samuel R. Laycock, renowned Alberta educational psychologist and professor of education, warned Toronto audiences that his latest study showed: "The gifted child in Russia is getting every opportunity to develop his talents.. . .Long before the end of high 68 school [in Canada], gifted boys and girls meet a distaste for academic work. They are made to travel the pace of the average child." To focus on the intellectual elite, many educators argued, was not undemocratic. Indeed, ignoring the gifted simply for the principle of universalism was portrayed by many as unjust, undemocratic and dangerous. Historian Jacques Barzun from Columbia University wrote for the University of Toronto Quarterly: "We cannot afford to waste talent and keep ourselves at the common level of amiable dullness when every 'people's democracy' manufactures as many elites as it does classes of fighter planes." 1 7 7 Hi lda Neatby, outspoken conservative Canadian educator and critic, asserted that the country's democracy could only be assured with the re-intellectualization of schools. A University o f Saskatchewan history professor, she believed that non-university bound students were genetically inferior burdens on an overcrowded secondary system. In one o f Neatby's many popular texts, A Temperate Dispute, she cited contemporary statistics that identified 70 percent of children as incapable of intellectual development past age twelve or fourteen. A s a result, educators should properly focus resources on the more promising 30 percent. 1 7 8 If this did not occur, in her words " . . . we w i l l be looking for a master race to organize us . " 1 7 9 Neatby led the Canadian campaign against progressivism. In her well-known book, So Little for the Mind, she argued that progressive ideas that school should be child-centered, stress experiential learning, and reward all students' individuality were anti-intellectual and anti-cultural and did not exercise the m i n d . 1 8 0 Neatby believed egalitarian aims for more vocational courses, or the provision of resources for every child, translated into lowered standards and mediocrity. In her view, the educator's primary function was intellectual 181 training: " . . .to dispel ignorance, and to train the mind for control and power." Unless this was the standard for all students, according to Neatby, 'true' democracy could not survive, 69 as the masses would become like a herd blindly following a leader. Neatby did not reject the principle o f universal access to education. She asserted, however, that education should set a high academic standard for all students, and that no special provision should be made: essentially, the fittest survivors needed to lead a 'democratic' nation. The assertion that the best kind of universalism should mean access for all to a traditional, academically oriented education was representative, albeit in more tempered form than Neatby, of much post-war provincial political dialogue and policies. In the 1950s, British Columbia and Ontario appointed royal commissions to investigate education: both invoked the principle of universality, highlighting the need for every student to be intellectually challenged in post-war secondary schools. Many historians have argued that the 1950 Ontario Commission on Education, chaired by Justice John A . Hope, took a moderate position somewhere between progressive and conservative ideas. They cite the report's call for a three-tiered system (six years of elementary, three years of junior and four years o f secondary level schooling) and its limited funding for separate schools, as well as its traditional focus on teaching students the virtues of Christianity and honest hard work . 1 8 3 Education officials supported the report's traditional elements, namely, the commissioners' lengthy declaration that: " . . .mastery of subject matter is the best present measure o f effort and the most promising source of satisfaction in achievement. We are not unduly concerned that a proportion of school tasks should be hard and unpalatable, because much of life is 184 equally so." Leslie Frost's Tory government shelved many of the more radical elements of the report. Significant Ontario administrators and politicians, such as Wi l l i am Dunlop, Minister of Education in the 1950s, supported the centrality of the traditional pursuit for the mastery o f knowledge. Dunlop, supported by Premier Frost, stated in his annual report on education in 1951 that schooling's prime purpose was to produce loyal, intelligent, right-70 thinking citizens. He argued that this would not be accomplished until the 'fads' o f progressivism were eliminated. Although vocational programs continued to retain more students than academic streams, Dunlop concentrated his efforts on reinstating history and geography as separate subjects in place of the progressive favourite of ' socia l studies,' curtailing course options in high schools, and limiting grants for extra-curricular activities. 1 8 6 A s the decade o f the space race intensified so too did the focus on intellectual leaders in British Columbia. In 1958 its Royal Commission on Education, led by Sperrin N . F . Chant, was given a mandate to assess all phases o f the educational system and its philosophy, organization and finances. The Report concluded that the general aim o f the public school system should be "that of promoting the intellectual development of the pupils, and that this should be the major emphasis throughout the whole school programme." 1 8 7 This Report sharply departed from the previous government-initiated curriculum review, the 1925 Survey of the School System, and its explicitly progressive agenda set by Harold Putnam, an Ottawa School Inspector, and George W e i r . 1 8 8 Historian F. Henry Johnson notes that Chant commissioners rationalized a new focus on the academically inclined as being necessary first to learn "more intelligent ways for dealing with the problems that threaten the human race," and second because "intellectual development has been traditionally accepted as the primary concern." 1 8 9 Towards this goal the commission recommended the re-classification of school subjects so that more time would be devoted to the 'central' subjects o f English and math and less time 'wasted' on art and home economics. It also recommended that teaching techniques, like the project method, should only supplement external examinations, uniform grading standards and competition in the classroom. 1 9 0 The Vancouver Sun reported that education officials uncritically embraced the Chant Report. Only Nevi l le Scarfe, Dean o f the University of British Columbia's College o f 71 Education and outspoken progressive, was opposed: slamming the Report as "depressing, disappointing and reactionary." 1 9 1 Evidently he found few to agree with him. Almost all o f the Chant recommendations, including a lengthening o f the school year, were implemented in some form or another by the Minister of Education, Leslie Peterson, in the early 1960s. Despite the trend toward vocational subjects and despite differences between educational authorities in British Columbia and Ontario, most were faithful to a conservative conception of democracy; the promise of universality, but limited by the necessity for an intellectual elite. The concept o f a 'democratic' curriculum was for most prominent post-war critics of education based on equality of access and not equality o f opportunity. Secondary schools represented an investment in human capital that promised successful competition in the volatile postwar world. The effects of economics on school objectives were highly visible. Population increases put resources at a premium. A s Goldring noted in a 1959 Globe and Mail article, educators faced with "overcrowding schools and all types of abilities" had to focus on the idea of the "same opportunity rather than equality o f opportunity in terms of ability or need." 1 9 2 Equity of access was set within the bounds o f affordable liberal arts subjects. The academic bias of the secondary school lessened the strain on the system's limited finances and teacher supply. 1 9 3 A more academic curriculum could promise equality at more affordable costs while in fact favouring those pupils who were intellectually and otherwise gifted by reason o f class, gender and ethnicity. 72 ' D E M O C R A T I C ' V A L U E S In addition to curriculum reconstruction, the development o f values or 'character' was a critical post-war educational objective. The comprehensive secondary school would expand professedly 'progressive' services and courses that would provide social, physical and emotional guidance for the 'whole' child. The character-building function was intended both to assist students' personal development and to teach them responsible civic choices. Instruction of 'democratic' values promised personal and national freedom. For that reason, school officials placed the objective of character education on par with intellectual stimulation in their agenda for educational 'democracy.' This was the message of Wi l l i am F. Russell, the president o f Columbia University Teachers' College, in an address to the Toronto chapter o f the Ontario Secondary School Teachers' Federation (OSSTF) in 1950. He started by arguing that freedom was "not only confronted by hostile armed forces," but in seemingly peaceful times "by that sly enemy within and without - Communism." 1 9 4 Russell argued: ". . .we may expect our descendants at some future time to go so very far to the left that they may make certain decisions.. .that w i l l end in the destruction of their liberties." 1 9 5 He went on to cite Aristotle's doctrine that democracy is fragile without counter measures. 1 9 6 In Russell's opinion, protection o f democracy began with educators' eliminating the "great gap between knowledge and conduct." 1 9 7 Familiarizing students with the knowledge of their rights and responsibilities as citizens within a democracy was not enough. Students had to learn how to perform their citizenship duties according to the nation's culture. The patriotic imperative for teaching 'democratic' values informed the 1951 article written by Paul R. Hanna, Professor o f Education at Stanford University and a specialist in the area of social studies, for The B.C. Teacher. A s he explained: "In a divided world, where the totalitarian 73 governments are effectively using education to indoctrinate for authoritarian values and to immunize against democratic values, the democracies have no alternative except to do a fundamentally better job o f preserving and improving our way of l i f e . " 1 9 8 Guidance programs were a specific manifestation of efforts to provide morally grounded and productive curriculum and life choices. Such services had been for the most part an incidental and nebulous part o f school life for almost two decades prior to 1945. 1 9 9 Not until the post-war period did school officials formally organize guidance departments and services in secondary schools across the country. These programs were intended to address public concerns that youth were rejecting 'proper' citizenship under the influence of immoral actions in the world and transgressions to traditional values within Canada. A s historian Mary Louise Adams argues, public expressions o f fear escalated over a supposed rise in juvenile delinquency due to inferior wartime mothering, an increasingly consumer-oriented culture, and exposure to communist sentiments. 2 0 0 Reformed youth were central to a post-war reconstruction agenda to restore order and a sense o f 'normality.' N o other time or place to indoctrinate 'proper' character was better than sites where almost all teens spent a number of their formative years. Dr. Jack Griffin, first president o f the Canadian Mental Heath Association, explained that the "child is in a relatively controlled environment for several hours each day and the possibilities of building in him sound emotional habits and attitudes as well as good social relationships are unexcelled." 2 0 1 Guidance services were established for these very purposes, namely, the personal and social adjustment of students to make suitable educational and life choices. Based on services ranging from individual counselling to aptitude studies, the secondary school began assuming functions of other social institutions, including the home and church, to help students function better in post-202 war society. 74 B y the early 1950s, guidance services were implemented in the comprehensive Toronto secondary schools through Attendance Departments, with the assistance of Chi ld Adjustment Services and Chi ld Guidance Clinics. C C . Goldring reported in 1951 that students were increasingly seeking their assistance. The Attendance Department, for example, had assisted 5,943 children and parents, up by 22 percent from the previous 203 year. According to Edward Davidson, the Chairman o f the Toronto Board, secondary schools had fully implemented guidance services by the end of the decade. He outlined the mounting work of the Attendance Department, including visits to truants' homes to "improve trouble which may be financial, psychological, physical and environmental" and contributing to a clothing centre for students who lacked "adequate attire." 2 0 4 Guidance programs were expanded to address reports of growing absenteeism, parental neglect, juvenile employment, delinquent behaviour, and health problems. 2 0 5 Vancouver started formally addressing these same issues with the inception in 1944 of the Divis ion of Educational and Vocational Guidance within the Department o f Education. This division in the 1948-49 school year alone approved 34 counselling schemes for British Co lumbia . 2 0 6 Support for counselling included the distribution o f guidance materials, bursaries for secondary school in-service training, and studies on pupils' employment aptitudes. The Vancouver School Board regularly used these resources. Furthermore, under its own initiative in 1955, the Board co-ordinated with the Department of National Health and Welfare and local secondary schools to establish training programs for 'special counsellors' who would assist teachers with designated problem pupi ls . 2 0 7 Such social services were imbued with the pro-active, scientific 'expertise' o f psychologists. A s historian Mona Gleason argues, psychologists' claims to specialized knowledge of children's development guaranteed them a primary place in character 75 training. The 'scientific' methods of psychologists were incorporated into post-war \ schools as a progressive and democratic method, unlike the subjectivity of teacher observation, to enable fair and accurate measure o f student maturity. Longstanding faith in science's ability to measure and control human behaviour soared in the post-war search for guarantees in an age of uncertainty. The resurgence of scientific testing came despite increased post-Holocaust public skepticism to claims to a hereditary basis o f character and intelligence. Teachers, counsellors, and parents turned to psychologists' scientific findings to help 'guide' students. Toronto Board officials certainly considered the mental health community to be partners in producing proper citizens. The board took over Chi ld Adjustment Services from the Department of Public Health in 1951, and consequently began to establish permanent psychological services for the mental, emotional and social development of all secondary pupi ls . 2 0 9 B y 1954, the Board reported regular visits by psychologists to service 'problem children,' train teachers to administer group intelligence tests and improve their techniques o f interviewing children, and to direct parent workshops 210 on mental health. The focus on children's social and mental health needs pressed school systems, and specifically teachers, to diagnose and correct maladjusted characters. 2 1 1 B y the end o f the 1950s Dr. Stogdill, a psychologist working with the Toronto Board, reported to a newspaper that the heavier load on the child adjustment services staff necessitated hiring more mental health specialists for secondary schools. 2 1 2 Psychologists also flourished in Vancouver secondary schools. Indeed psychological testing had an exceptionally strong presence in British Columbian schools. According to historians Thomas Fleming and David Conway, the post-war mandate for mental testing had been set as early as 1925 with Putnam and Weir 's survey. It recommended that a Bureau of Measurements be set up in Vancouver for the province to conduct some o f the first 76 standardized intelligence testing in Canada. Within its first year, the Divis ion of Tests, Standards and Research administered achievement tests to seventy-seven thousand pupils and aptitude tests to more than fifty-thousand. 2 1 3 B y year ten it had conducted over 500,000 such tests. 2 1 4 Whi le tests were explicitly designed to differentiate the bright from the slow, supporters believed they also served to give reliable, though not infallible, guidance to moral worth. G . M . Weir, who organized the institutionalization of testing, made regular pronouncements in line with progressive educator Edward L . Thorndike, a leader o f the American eugenics movement, that pure intelligence, social intelligence, nationality, and socio-economic background correlated positively. Drawing from his intelligence study of student nurses, Weir concluded that the most intelligent and moral were from middle-class families of English, Scotch and Irish ancestry. He wrote: "dullness and moral worth are related almost as closely as twin brothers." 2 1 5 Mona Gleason argues that psychologists presented testing as an instrument to demystify the developmental needs of each student, but those needs were in turn strictly set within the bounds of race, culture and class. She cites, by way of example, poor scores on Stanford intelligence tests given to interned Japanese students of British Columbia as legitimating educators' insistence on assimilation through the use of English. Gleason further notes that the emphasis o f psychologists " . . .on the satisfaction of children's needs for affection, belonging, independence, social approval, self-esteem, and creative achievement," instead o f providing justification for diversity and self-expression, lent itself to the demands of social authorities for the production of an "obedient, 9 1 fx industrious, and happy citizenry." The affirmation of traditional racial, class and gender boundaries was a clear part of the character education agenda o f Toronto and Vancouver secondary schools. Educators expressed concern that in the comprehensive and mass secondary school age, students would 77 neither learn nor accept their appropriate social position. Middle class youth, particularly males, symbolized hope and prosperity with their potential for scholastic achievements and future professional careers. 2 1 7 In contrast, working class adolescents, and especially ethnic minorities, with their seemingly culturally impoverished homes, conjured up delinquency and required a moral discipline rather different than their class and racial superiors. 2 1 8 Part of citizenship training in schools, therefore, was teaching all students 'responsible' behaviour that varied according to their appropriate social positions in society. H . L . Campbell revealed this philosophy in a 1952 lecture: without training "responsible citizens who seek the common welfare rather than selfish goals," modern universal education may reach a point in which all are educated for white-collar work and "no youth are wil l ing to do necessary physical work of the world." Fundamental values of integrity and service to others needed to be taught to guarantee class and gender as wel l : " . . .w i l l young women with high school education be content to marry and raise families on a farm?" 2 2 0 To address these concerns, Toronto and Vancouver educators complemented greater social services with more formal and informal classes in the lessons o f normative and 'responsible' post-war citizenship. L ike discussions o f the aims of guidance and psychology in schools, talk of 'democratic' values in Canada's youth through revised course offerings was most often steeped in vague language of liberation. The opaqueness of 'character' is perhaps most evident in the growing number o f social studies courses offered in post-war schools. Both the Vancouver and Toronto Board increased their social studies course options to include subjects from history and geography to law, economics and political science. The importance o f such courses is indicated by the fact that the number of social studies credits required for graduation, not to mention the number o f electives, was equal to mathematics in 78 both school systems. The overall purpose for social studies courses in Toronto and Vancouver was similar, and not surprisingly, explicitly intended to invoke patriotism, skepticism regarding left-wing propaganda, a sense o f 'brotherhood' within the country and the world, respect for law, and acquisition o f such personal habits as courtesy and neatness. A close study of each group of social studies courses is beyond the scope o f this study, but one innovative course for Vancouver secondary schools provides some insight into the more specific agenda for post-war reconstruction of 'normality.' In 1951-52, British Columbia created a new course entitled Effective Living that was implemented for grades ten to twelve. In support of its goal of open minds and toleration, the course encouraged question and answer and discussion and personal reflection, rather than traditional memorization or recitation. A l l course units, including Personality, Family, and Community Health, underscored "developing a stable heterosexual pattern," "developing habits of constancy and loyalty," and "adjusting to accepted customs and conventions." The course guide offered such leading questions as "Why is wearing the right dress a mark o f maturity?"; "I spend every cent I can. Society won't let me starve. Is this a mature attitude?"; "What is the importance o f religion to happiness in life and in marriage?" Toronto schools would not offer a similar course until the 1960s, but did address these units within their 1942 social studies curriculum revisions, particularly in Physical Education and Health. From establishing the nuclear family to becoming a mature worker, social studies courses clearly differentiated proper and improper citizenship. Educational historians have particularly noted lessons in implicit racial superiority within social studies courses. Timothy Stanley argues that by 1925 schools textbooks had contributed towards British Columbia becoming a white supremacist society. He demonstrates that geography and history texts transmitted imperialist and racist ideas of a 79 province born out of white man's progress over the morally depraved Asian and First 221 Nations 'Others.' Jose Igartua has undertaken a similar study for Ontario, but specifically addressing the 1940s and '50s. Approved history texts, namely George W . Brown's Building a Canadian Nation (1942) and Arthur Lower 's Canada: A Nation and How it Came to Be (1948), detail how a hierarchy of the races was a basic component o f secondary school texts. Igartua argues that these texts represent the British 'race' as the authors o f freedom and democracy, fighting off threats to the birth o f Canada, namely, Aboriginal and 222 French peoples. Social studies courses, like the new social services o f the post-war secondary school, thus served disciplining, limiting, and sorting functions. While social studies is most often given the greatest attention by citizenship scholars, 'character' education pervaded formal and informal classes. For example, lessons in the re-affirmation of the nuclear family were central to the secondary school environment in both cities. In her introduction to A Diversity of Women, Joy Parr concludes that social authorities considered the disruption o f the nuclear family to be a main cause for unrest and it thus garnered a great deal o f attention in the post-war years. She argues that legal heterosexual coupling, with the middle-class father as breadwinner, was a national metaphor for a strong consumer economy, cohesive and peaceful relations, and thus a defense against 223 Communism. Societal trends fed fears o f social breakdown. Particularly worrying were veterans coming back mentally scarred from fighting, mothers absent in war work entering paid labour in greater numbers than any previous peacetime period, increasing numbers o f urban immigrant and working-class families, and divorce rates steadily rising from 88.9 per 100,000 married persons ages fifteen or older in 1951 to 124.3 in 1968. 2 2 4 N o wonder the moral backbones of Canadian youth needed stiffening. 80 According to A.D. Flowers, a principal in British Columbia, writing in a Vancouver newspaper, children needed to learn "more than just reading, writing and arithmetic. Boys had to learn how to be boys, and girls had to be taught how to be ladies." 2 2 5 Vancouver school reports made special mention of their ladies' fashion shows to exhibit the great work of home economics, the strength of their future nurses' and teachers' clubs that would direct unmarried girls into admirable professions, as well as mother-daughter and father-son evenings to solidify gender identification. Toronto School Board reports highlighted night classes in homemaking, domestic arts classes for immigrant women, and more co-educational sports, like square dancing and badminton. This latter program was part of a wider array of secondary school offerings in both cities, including marital classes, which were intended to foster nuclear families. William Blatz, the director of the Institute for Child Study at the University of Toronto, made this point when he recommended that teen-agers mingle more between the sexes so they "can sublimate their sex appetite into directions which will aid them to maintain the ideals of chastity and faithfulness which our 227 social culture considers to be essential." Mary Louise Adams notes that Christian ideals underpinned educators' encouragement of students towards middle-class, domestic goals. 2 2 8 These goals provided a bulwark against godlessness, symbolized by the potentially harmful influences of a burgeoning popular culture. Specifically, educators suspected that youth were being 'corrupted' by crime comics with their subversive homosexual imagery, rock and roll music with Elvis' pelvic thrusts, and salacious Hollywood movies from James Dean's Rebel Without a Cause to Marilyn Munroe's fatal sexuality in Niagara. While materialism encouraged the growth of capitalism, and its offerings of the middle-class life, social authorities worried that youth would become self-indulgent or unproductive without 81 Christian discipline. A survey conducted by the Canadian Youth Commission in the mid-19408 indicated that most young women and men were aware of and even shared educators' concerns. They agreed that while schools taught them important subjects and developed thinking abilities, they were less convinced that they had suitable learning in citizenship, 231 specifically, sufficient preparation for the wise use of leisure time. J.G. Althouse, acting in his role as Chief Director of Education for Toronto schools, appealed to board members, early in 1950, to address the proper use of youth's leisure time. He noted that prior to depression and wars, the West had been lulled "into a false sense of security" based on the "assumption that knowledge meant wisdom." 2 3 2 With the threat to democracy, he asserted, children understood that freedom was not a natural state. Youth's years should be spent in practicing self-discipline, greater human understanding, and religion. 2 3 3 Althouse was reaffirming a policy for religious instruction that had been implemented in elementary schools since 1944. At that time, Ontario Premier George Drew's Conservative government introduced the 'Drew Regulation,' which legislated two half hour periods of religious instruction per week in public schools. This instruction was under consideration for secondary schools upon recommendation by the Hope Commission in 1950. During the post-war period, religious exercises, inclusive of a scripture reading, repetition of the Ten Commandments at least once a week and the Lord's Prayer daily, and memorization of selected Bible passages, opened each secondary school day. 2 3 4 Martin Sable, a Jewish Studies scholar, argues that it fell upon the Jewish community, and particularly, Rabbi Abraham Feinberg of Toronto's Holy Blossom Temple, to protest on behalf of minority children the Protestant doctrine of the 'Drew' regulation and other such regulations. The Jewish community issued a particular complaint to the Toronto Board 82 over the distribution of Gideon Bible that excluded the Old Testament to all Toronto students. Spirituality, as a replacement for worshipping material progress, would also be a central lesson for Vancouver secondary students. In a 1960 speech to Magee Secondary School graduates, school board vice-chairman Wi l l i am J. Burnett explained that success was defined, not by wealth, but by happiness. He stated: "No work is menial or humble.. .neither wealth, education, position, nor power w i l l necessarily guarantee success." The valedictorian of the ceremony confirmed Burnett's message by insisting that students use their biblical school motto as their guide in life: "Let There Be Light." The driving force behind religious instruction was again progressives Weir and Putnam. Their Survey of the School System in 1925 proposed the option of Bible study in public schools to compensate for insufficient character training in other social institutions. Faced with the fear that Bible study would spur a separate school system, and the fact that the Public School Act policy precluded sectarian teaching, Putnam and Weir had to wait until leaders from the various Christian denominations reached an agreement on the content for instruction. In 1941, Bible study was approved as an 'extra-mural' or elective course for grade nine to twelve students to take for university entrance. 2 3 7 The rationale stressed personal enlightenment motivating students towards social obligations o f harmonious l iving. Although not compulsory, unlike the prayers and biblical readings required at the start of the day, the Bible course illustrated the direct relationship between Christianity and good citizenship. This was certainly the message for minority students, in particular aboriginal youth, who were being forcefully integrated in the British Columbia school system in the post-war per iod. 2 3 8 After a revision of the Indian Act in 1951 to educate Indian children in association with other children whenever possible, the British Columbia Government made 83 arrangements for an increasing number of aboriginal children to attend public schools. While the integration of aboriginal students would primarily take place in rural schools, public enrolment figures went from 1,200 in 1952 to 3,788 in 1961. B y 1962-63, almost 400 aboriginal students were entering public secondary schools. For all youth, the message o f 'democratic' citizenship held central tenets, defined similarly by senior education officials across the political spectrum; students were to adhere to Christian ethics, uplift traditional family values, and realize the potential contribution of their social status. The difference between those educators who would claim progressive or traditional alliances was not so much the substance of 'democratic' values, but rather the method of their transmission. For the healthy psychological and social development of students, progressive adherents supported the introduction of courses and social services, albeit through methods of discussion and debate, rather than traditional discipline and rote learning. They interpreted the school as a critical part of an increasing social safety net, inclusive of broadened health-care initiatives and unemployment provisions, which came to characterize Canada in the post-war period. It was this extra responsibility that concerned more conservative educators. Hi lda Neatby acknowledged that liberal definitions of democracy that focused on personal liberty and social equality were admirable, "but these same functions can and should happen in homes and churches.. .schools have done well in some o f these areas with health services and guidance and psychological treatment.. .but should focus on its main purpose that no other agency can provide.. .to dispel ignorance." 2 3 9 Neatby's national discourse joined more localized discussions that lauded citizenship training of'democratic' values in the schools in so far as it did not detract from academic goals. 84 This was the tone of a series of editorials in local and national newspapers in the post-war period. A Vancouver Sun editorial in late 1946 reviewed an education conference in Vancouver on social studies led by G . M . Weir. The author commented that educators were groping in the fog for a way to address ethical values in education: "Too many teachers seem to think the solution lies in pil ing more courses upon the unfortunate pupi ls ." 2 4 0 Weir and his supporters were criticized as overestimating the capacity o f children. In a Vancouver Herald editorial over a decade later, similar sentiments were expressed. It juxtaposed 'drivel ' guidance offered in the Chicago public system, including lessons on 'building good relations with our parents,' with Japanese schools that merely insisted on behaving in a civilized manner, without 'social studies" or "elaborate courses in behaviourism which make our forefathers look like dolts." 2 4 1 The author concluded that education should not be 'social behaviour' under any fancy name or methods other than traditional study with "a 242 considerable exercise of muscle." A year later, reporter Philip Deane of the Globe and Mail extensively critiqued secondary schools in the United States in an article entitled "Character, Not Missiles, Is the Challenge." Citing the work o f Arthur Bestor, well-known conservative education critique and author o f the Educational Wastelands: The Retreat from Learning in Our Public Schools (1953), Deane blamed schools offering girls courses in 'marital adjustment' for creating ignorant students. Most educators did not assert an either/or choice between education for life adjustment or knowledge. J .G. Althouse, a political moderate, agreed that schools were becoming burdened with new responsibilities. Yet he also approved o f them helping children to develop wholesome human relationship through religious and moral teaching. Althouse's solution was to teach such qualities "through indirect methods more than courses." 2 4 4 For Althouse and others, indirect methods included dress codes, extra-curricular 85 activities, Home and School or Parent Teacher organizations, student involvement with volunteer organizations and industry, and, most importantly, exposure to teachers of 'good' character. While most of these elements were certainly a part of school environments, secondary schools in both Vancouver and Toronto also embraced direct methods of character education. Character training encompassed professedly progressive aims for personal development and contribution towards a broadening social safety net. At a time when transgressions of normality or the fears of abnormality seemingly threatened 'democracy,' these aims were firmly and conservatively rooted in pre-war patterns of gender, class and racial hierarchies. ORGANIZING FOR ' D E M O C R A C Y ' In order to foster the personal development of'democratic' values, the school attempted to use these principles as a guide for effective social organization. A n autocratic and pedantic climate was out of fashion in the post-war context. Educators rationalized trends towards decentralized decision-making powers as both a 'progressive' step towards equality and a necessary lesson in self-sufficiency. Its products need not become dependent on a welfare nation. In keeping with the rationale, most post-war educators agreed that the secondary education system needed to be re-organized as a laboratory for society's participatory 'democracy,' complete with collaborative methods and harmonious living. School officials needed to redistribute power so that all school communities, teachers, students, parents and administrators from the rural and urban regions could meaningfully contribute to educational and national betterment. 86 Such sentiments were also international in scope, according to the editors of The B.C. Teacher and its sister newsletter of the OSSTF, The Bulletin. Both extensively covered British conferences and reports on the role of education in the making of national democracy. A February 1951 issue of The Bulletin that detailed a British report on the best forms of school organization was indicative.245 The authors presented three potential structures for the secondary school. The first was depicted as factory-like, a place in which students were given facts like widgets and memory-based tests at certain ages to split them out mechanically into the work world.246 This model treated students as automatons unable to cultivate personal relationships and understand 'real living'. The second, the happy family, addressed such shortcomings by focusing on the pursuit of friendliness and happiness for all school members. While the authors suggested personal fulfillment is a positive goal, they argued true 'democracy' could not exist without motivating citizens by a broader purpose. In contradiction to the two flawed models, the third democratic model was held up as the ideal. The democratic school focused on members taking individual responsibility to enrich the entire community. Relationships among staff and students, and staff and administrators, and administrators and political officials were to be marked by consultation and mutual respect. The environment would not be authoritarian, but, rather, enable choice, individuality and teamwork. The authors idealistically concluded from the British research that: "Only experience of life in a democratic school community can give young people the values they need and the understanding upon which to build full and happy 947 personal lives." In order for the secondary school system to fulfill its objectives for the training of all students into productive and good citizens it had to practice democracy. If the ideals of democratic partnership were to be realized, one of the first issues for Canadian educators was regional equality. This was one premise behind the post-war trend 87 toward larger school districts. Their advent in post-war Canada was hailed as a progressive step towards solving financial inequities. Consolidation would provide more adequate funding and facilities to out-lying areas. 2 4 8 B y the end of WWII , Canada had fallen behind most English-speaking countries in its efforts to conquer the geographical expansion o f schooling. 2 4 9 Because o f its shift to consolidated school units, Britain had become the measure for democratic organization in teachers' federation newsletters. Popular demand for equitable distribution of education resources had swept Canada for years prior to the war as better roads, proliferation of motorized cars, the mechanization o f farm work and increased technical education lessened the rural and urban divide. Demand outpaced the initial response of provincial officials who largely left local communities to fund their education costs. For example, prior to the war, Ontario's provincial grants were approximately 10 percent o f the total costs of school boards, unlike Great Britain which provided grants that covered between 40 to 80 percent of local school costs. 2 5 1 The lack o f central funding disadvantaged poorer rural communities who, without tax bases comparable to more prosperous urban areas, could not pay for educational improvements or better credentialed teachers. Post-war Canadian school officials believed consolidation provided the democratic solution to equal opportunity for smaller municipalities and rural communities. Provincial authorities intervened to centralize education funding so that taxes would be collected and re-distributed evenly, based on the needs o f districts. This money would go to more consolidated school facilities where provinces could cost-efficiently provide adequate facilities and educational standards to youth of less wealthy communities. B y the mid-1950s, provincial grants across Canada started to climb to British rates as some 780 larger unit boards amalgamated 16,000 smaller boards. 2 5 2 According to the Superintendent o f Education in British Columbia, J .F .K. English, the greatest advantage o f 88 consolidation was "the contribution o f the larger unit to social l iving. Because of the facilities offered by the larger unit for secondary education, rural and urban children mix readily, and social barriers are broken down." 2 5 3 British Columbia led the national trend with a quicker and more geographically • encompassing response than most provinces. 2 5 4 Change came in 1944 when the provincial government appointed a one-man inquiry into the finances o f the public education system. Dr. Maxe l l A . Cameron, who was an education professor at the University of British Columbia and the author of a study o f educational financing in Ontario, was charged to make recommendations for wide-scale reform. While initially a finance study, Cameron soon found this issue inseparable from administrative reform. His primary objective was the creation of school districts "large enough and powerful enough that their work w i l l be a challenge to the trustees who control them and to see to it that these districts have financial resources adequate to their responsibilities." 2 5 5 Cameron recommended the creation of 74 large districts out o f an original 650. The new entities would be financed by a basic district rate o f taxation, with provincial grants to cover the difference between tax revenue and extra expenditures, a share of total costs that "would always be well over half ." 2 5 7 This scheme was unique on the national scene, covering more villages and cities than most re-organization plans, providing for a provincial contribution second only to Prince Edward 9SR Island, and implementing the plan within a year o f its finalization. Provincial grants that seemed generous in 1945, however, quickly became inadequate with rising inflation, birthrates and capital expenditure costs. The province spent the next decade trying to determine a more equitable formula for school funding. After an investigation by H . L . Campbell in 1955, a revised formula increased school districts to eighty-two, and more importantly, replaced Cameron's suggested fixed grants with a diversified plan that 89 addressed local needs for capital building costs and transportation expenses. While school consolidation had the largest impact on rural areas and their administrative structures, the Vancouver School Board, re-zoned during this time as district 39, was also hugely influenced by the new funding formulas and the increasing capital costs the province covered. The Toronto Board also underwent consolidation in response to the need for greater financial equity. L ike British Columbia, change did not come until the mid-1940s. Historian Robert Stamp details Ontario's movement towards assuming more local costs, beginning with recommendations in a 1938 report by the Committee on the Costs of Education. During the 1943 election, when Conservative leader George Drew, in his attempt to stave off a left-wing Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF) victory by running on a platform of social justice amidst global prosperity, guaranteed the provincial assumption of 50 percent o f school taxes previously collected on real estate. Upon victory and the necessity to balance the books, this promise dropped to 50 percent o f an approved list o f costs. Nonetheless, once implemented in 1945, local expenses were appreciably less than prior to WWII : urban boards received between 30 and 60 percent of approved costs based on population and grants for rural boards ranged from 50 to 90 percent. The same post-war inflation, population boom and increase in capital projects that reduced the effectiveness of the Cameron plan on the Pacific in the 1950s meant that provincial grants would slip to below 30 percent o f total costs for some school areas. Larger school districts were again the answer to spiraling costs. Ontario's school consolidation plans were more haphazard and slower than British Columbia's. Not until 1950 did the Hope Commission recommend the province-wide replacement o f local administrative units with large regional boards. 2 6 3 Wi th disagreement among the commissioners and surrounding 90 controversy over some radical elements o f the report, few provincial educators were ultimately wi l l ing to systematically impose reform on rural areas. 2 6 4 Nonetheless, many school boards voluntarily amalgamated to cope with the demand for more schooling and dwindling revenues. B y the early 1950s some 536 township areas had replaced 3,465 rural school districts. In addition, the Toronto Metropolitan School Board emerged in 1953 from urban and suburban municipalit ies. 2 6 6 While the intent o f such broad changes was financial equity, some educators and communities resisted centralization schemes that abolished locale authority and identities. Furthermore, increased provincial grants did not erase the large disparities in tax revenue for rural consolidated districts. In Ontario, rural resistance halted compulsory wide-scale reform. In the West early experimentation with district consolidation was similarly met by rural accusations that the government was being "arbitrary, undemocratic, coercive, despotic, fascist, and even un-British." To justify consolidation provincial authorities advocated strong local controls. For example, Maxwel l Cameron advocated that local residents elect their own school trustees who would work in direct communication with the province through district superintendents to determine allocation o f resources, staffing decisions and priorities for school programming. The British Columbia Teachers' Federation supported this revised structure in a 1959 brief to the Royal Commission on Education: " A s school boards assume policy-making responsibility and cease to be primarily executors of policy made in [the provincial capital of] Victoria, they may be expected to attract to their membership outstanding, community-minded ci t izens." 2 7 0 Similarly, The Hope Commission advocated that amalgamated boards assume more decision-making powers over in standards of teaching, school management routines, and selection of 271 curriculum materials. J .G. Althouse spoke o f the delicate, yet critical, relationship 91 between local and central authorities when implementing new reforms: "Forward steps in Ontario education are taken when a number o f communities become interested in new phases of educational service.. .Our reforms march forward on a ragged front... [but] they march forward with the informed understanding and active support o f the people who maintain and patronize the schools." 2 7 2 One major initiative to produce a smoother and clearly democratic partnership between local and central authorities was a post-war change in the conception of supervision. In particular, inspectors shifted from the older arm's length critical assessors to locally-employed collegial assistants. A s new, less qualified teachers were responding to the demand for their services, inspectors could not provide necessary, personalized assistance. Ideal supervision was re-conceptualized as democratic, decentralized and collaborative. In 1956 G . E . Flower, the Director of the Canadian Education Association's Kel logg Project in Educational Leadership, described the transformation. Under the old system the provincial government would send out inspectors to ensure that local boards were using grant money properly, namely, following all school regulations, such as attendance laws, and following the prescribed course of studies, particularly judging the competence o f teachers. 2 7 3 Wi th the creation of larger school districts, the inspector no longer skipped from board to board auditing standards. Rather, larger districts, and particularly urban boards, which now had the responsibility o f operating more complex school systems, were granted permission by the province to employ their own inspector. In theory, the 'new' inspector, being locally appointed, would be able to better address community needs while ensuring provincial standards for schooling. J .G. Althouse described the 'new' inspector o f Ontario as "an 9 7 4 executive officer and a financial advisor to his boards." J .F .K. English of British Columbia described the same official, whose title in that province was officially changed to 92 district superintendent of schools in 1958, as working " in a closer relationship with school boards... [with] more administrative work in addition to their special responsibility, which is the supervision of instruction in the schools." 2 7 5 While inspectors or superintendents worked in an executive capacity, typically with the due respect from trustees and teachers, they were no longer the locus of official provincial power. Inspectors had the legal right to attend board meetings but lacked voting privileges. Instead, it was assumed that board members would avail themselves o f the inspector's "experience, training and knowledge." 2 7 6 According to the Public School Acts of British Columbia (1958) and Ontario (1954), the city boards o f Vancouver and Toronto would use inspectors in their new administrative capacity; to evaluate and record the organizational and instructional quality of a school district, and, where necessary, provide recommendations for change to maintain provincial standards. 2 7 7 Given the extra duties o f administration for the local inspector, or district superintendent, J .G. Althouse reported, there was little time or energy remaining for 978 instructional supervision. Local inspectors required the growing support o f assistant supervisors, grade consultants, and directors o f instruction. Vancouver appointed four teachers in 1955 to the newly created position of teacher-consultant. Teacher-consultants, who became province-wide with the Public Schools Act of 1958, were meant to assist teachers, particularly those at the probationary stage, with their instructional methods. 2 7 9 For Ontario, according to the Supervision and Inspection Committee o f the OSSTF, it was the school staff, and particularly the heads of departments, who took on the duty of regular peer 280 supervision. The provinces' inspectors were instructed to appraise the work of teachers, the accommodations of the class, and the success of students, as well as schools' internal 981 methods of supervision. 93 School officials in both provinces looked to the principal for internal school supervision. In an article entitled "The New Principal," G . E . Flower explained that post-war Canadian officials had borrowed from the British model o f the principal as headmaster. 2 8 2 A s a master teacher in close daily contact with teachers, pupils and the community, the principal was ideally suited to be an instructional leader, rather than an administrative co-ordinator. Local principals' associations developed, and university summer courses on principalship thrived, in efforts to address the previously overlooked role of the principal on the supervisory team. Whether principal, department head, teacher consultant or inspector, the expected form of supervision in the post-war secondary school had changed from judgment and f enforcement to a more 'democratic' process of collaborative review for improved instruction. C . W . Booth, deputy minister of education for Ontario, spoke to the revised aims in supervision at a national level in the September 1959 issue of Canadian Education. Booth argued that supervision had changed from "cold, critical analysis imposed from above to the present friendly, sympathetic, co-operative appraisal of daily work by supervisor and teacher for the benefit o f teacher and pupils a l ike . " 2 8 4 The prime purpose, he insisted, was to prompt professional self-study and regulation. 2 8 5 He concluded that: "Supervision at its best is a co-operative project, involving pupils, teachers, department heads, principals, superintendents, and inspectors - all working together and giving their best for the school, the community, and the nation." The rhetoric of the period often managed to frame supervision as democracy in process but this was not always obvious. G . E . Flower recounted a story of a teacher who was visited first by an inspector, then by the assistant inspector, followed by a helping teacher, and ending with a supervisor for public health and one for the province's physical education branch. The teacher commented after all o f these 94 friendly visits: "I am glad to say that none o f them managed to keep me from doing my 9 Si *7 work." Stories of supervision were not always that innocuous. Boards and teachers spoke o f inspectors who remained over-authoritarian, especially in rural areas where they had more authority, trustees who 'blacklisted' teachers from certain districts, and principals who withheld teachers' increment pay with overly-critical written reports. Educators treated these issues as scandalous when they found their way to newspapers, because excessive supervision disregarded one principle o f participatory democracy; a sense of autonomy. A s British educator, Sir Arthur Binns, stated at a Principals' Conference held at the University of British Columbia in 1958, " Y o u can never make professional people out o f men and women who merely or even mainly carry out the orders o f other people." 2 8 9 The need for autonomy in a substantive educational 'democracy' carried over from the re-conception of supervision to curriculum reforms. The post-war years saw growth in the participation of teachers, and even lay groups, in the development of curriculum. A s the populace and purpose of the post-war secondary school broadened, so too did its stakeholders. More parents were demanding a voice in what their children learned in school, and industry leaders were demanding certain skills be taught to their future employees. I f teachers were required to transmit an increasingly complex program of study and take responsibility for making this knowledge base fit for each student, then they needed to be trained participants in curriculum development. It no longer sufficed for one or two 'experts' who were removed from the classroom to dictate materials that teachers were simply to f o l l o w . 2 9 0 While the initial writing of course studies and final approval remained in the hands of provincial experts, Departments of Education across the country more than ever were wi l l ing to consider the desirability of teacher and lay representation on general curriculum policy and procedure committees, and to a greater extent on subject committees 95 to revise or prepare courses of study and materials to suit local situations. A l l an Morrison, Director o f Curriculum and Research for the Department of Education in Nova Scotia, argued that the increased participation was a necessary part o f a democratic nation: " A society which is based on government responsible to a widely enfranchised population is founded on an assumption that people can and w i l l make decisions which are good in the long run.. ..that the individual can be depended upon to do his best according to his 'light and leading. ' " 2 9 2 Morrison's faith in democratic procedures for curriculum building, from an administrative perspective external to the classroom, found some room in the policies of Ontario. In 1949, the newly appointed Tory Minister of Education, Dana Porter, announced the 'Porter P l a n . ' 2 9 3 Porter was assisted by the head of the Ministry of Education's curriculum branch, Stanley Watson, a rare self-proclaimed progressive in Ontario political c i rcles . 2 9 4 A significant component of the plan was a relatively wide divestment o f power to school communities. The Department of Education, through co-ordinating committees, provided suggested courses of study to local committees who had the power to disregard them and create their o w n . 2 9 5 Furthermore, province-mandated Departmental examinations, except for Senior Matriculation, were abolished, which freed school staff to determine assessment o f their course requirements. 2 9 6 The process for curriculum development also underwent reconstruction. In addition to the standard input of superintendents, principals, and teacher training personnel, curriculum committees would have official representation 297 from Home and School Associations and the Ontario Teachers' Federation (OTF). The O T F had a uniquely co-operative relationship for a teachers' federation with provincial authorities in this period, which provided for strong leadership from teachers in the area o f curriculum design. This was due in part to an O T F initiative which, in conjunction with the 96 Ontario Education Association and co-ordinated by Ontario teacher Blanche Snell, established more than sixty committees in 1947 and 1948 to study each subject area in the secondary curriculum. The high level of participation demanded by teachers became apparent within years of the implementation of the Porter Plan. Over 5,000 teachers on 139 local curriculum development committees revised more than 1,400 courses in 129 areas, including a number in Toronto. 2 9 8 The Department o f Education encouraged teachers' participation: "...the acceptance of the responsibility for curriculum revision provides teachers with an opportunity to reach their true professional status.. .group participation wi l l give teachers practice in those democratic techniques and procedures...It w i l l afford the opportunity for the development o f democratic leadership." 2 9 9 Within a year of this statement, Porter left his position with the Ministry to pursue leadership of the provincial Tory party. His replacement, W.J . Dunlop, did not see curriculum reforms as a priority. B y the end of the decade, only twelve committees remained and only 18 percent of teachers participated. 3 0 0 Education leaders in British Columbia shared Dunlop's underlying skepticism of the program. While school officials in the province sought curriculum feedback from teachers and lay groups, they did not call for the same widespread consultation and local powers. According to H . L . Campbell, the British Columbia government believed that not only the public, but teachers, lacked the ability to decide independently on courses o f study. With lower professional qualifications due to high demand, and the presence of scientific, well-trained, curriculum personnel in central offices, untrammeled local initiative was no answer. 3 0 1 British Columbia officials were not wi l l ing to say, however, that Ontario's curriculum organization was superior or more democratic. Chairman o f the B C T F curriculum committee, Don Pritchard, explained that Ontario was "just catching up with the 97 more progressive centres. Secondary classes there are still organized in 'forms'; there is little use of 'options ' in our meaning of the term; and 'promotion by subject', and 'individual timetables' are used as yet by only a very small minority o f the high schools." 3 0 2 Undeterred by rebuffs, the B C T F still pushed for a greater teacher voice in curriculum building. Upon the advice o f progressive educator Herbert B . K i n g in 1935, who later became the Chief Inspector o f Schools, curriculum committees had been created, under the Council o f Public Instruction, with teacher and public membership. The B C T F wanted direct representation on the province's Central Curriculum Committee in 1948. 3 0 3 Despite being guaranteed only consideration of representation, the federation and its teachers continued to participate in some curriculum committees, albeit in relatively low number compared to Ontario. Approximately 125 teachers worked on various standing and advisory curriculum committees in 1958. 3 0 4 In 1961 the Department o f Education formally recognized the value o f their contributions and granted the federation three places on newly established secondary and elementary Professional Curriculum Committees. 3 0 5 Although central authority would continue to characterize the post-war secondary school, with prescribed content and inspections, officials supported a shift in policy that encouraged the active participation by an increasing number in the education community. Movement toward democratic re-organization, or at least the rhetoric of democratic administration, resembled for some educators, such as Stanley Watson o f Ontario and G.E . Flower o f British Columbia, a Deweyan model: educators' co-ordination o f experiences to stimulate change by and in the best interest of those whom the changes affected. In Flower's writings, the post-war re-organization was to create an environment "to stimulate, to encourage, to assist, to guide, and even to direct teachers so that they wi l l experience the maximum professional development and hence make available to their pupils the riches 98 possible learning experiences." Most school officials who supported such reforms rarely spoke directly of progressive influences. Instead, educators made the case for system-wide democratic procedures based on their cost-efficiency and productivity. After all, the consolidation of schools was a money saver, as was the extra-curricular, voluntary participation of teachers in curriculum planning. Some academics and political officials proffered an even more conservative ideological justification: practices in participatory democracy, which offered elements of local autonomy and space for individual voice in administrative matters, rightly discouraged citizens from dependence on the state. They warned that without democratic reforms the secondary school might produce citizens who were reliant on the welfare of government-supported education and thus a welfare nation. This conservative message was the foundation of Frank MacKinnon's many widely-read texts on education, history and governance in Canada. At the time principal of Prince of Wales College (later the University of Prince Edward Island), he was well-known within political and administrative arenas of education. In one of his most noted texts, The Politics of Education, MacKinnon wrote that "democracy itself is on trial" because the state was simply telling schools how to educate, and doing so according to populace fads. 3 0 7 He argued that political authorities had refused to grant teachers and administers enough control over education, a refusal based on the assertion that they had a democratic responsibility to the public that elected them to oversee such matters. 3 0 8 MacKinnon implied that the state's emphasis on submission to authority did not represent the public will, but, rather, resembled a totalitarian regime. He asserted that there would be greater efficiency i f teachers were not forced to adopt the duties of administrators or "play politics," but, rather, simply had the "freedom to teach." 3 0 9 Teachers who "subordinate their own thinking and efforts to the kind of window dressing which impresses officials.. .thereby stifle the innate quality of initiative 99 and independence necessary for scholarship." 3 1 0 MacKinnon was not arguing for each person to have direct decision-making powers within the democratic school. Rather, each member of the school should concentrate on their specific function in the system. MacKinnon wanted teachers to be free from interruptions by inspectors and bureaucratic duties like heavy paper work, so that they could focus on the academic training o f young people. I f not, he argued, the state would continue to dominate; teachers and students would get into the habit of receiving rather than getting, and expecting rather than doing . 3 1 1 Peoples' dependency on the state, according to MacKinnon, was sparked by 'undemocratic' school organization and was hazardous to teachers and students. It was, thus, teachers' responsibility to not only protect their rights within the school, but to ensure democratic rights in their classrooms. Teachers could only effectively teach i f they inspired self-discipline. Such arguments in favour of autonomy influenced instructional methods in post-war secondary schools. The Toronto Board experimented with the implementation of language labs for French courses, which would allow girls and boys to follow their own pace o f study along with dictation cassettes.3 1 2 The Vancouver Board proudly announced that their straps were locked away and discipline through 'man-to-man' talks was the modern approach that got results from teenagers. 3 1 3 Secondary schools in both cities used workshop techniques and open debating in social studies classes to encourage students to form their political opinions. In addition, towards the end o f the period, Vancouver and Toronto schools experimented with television programming, provided by the Canadian Broadcasting Company, to motivate students to develop their own interpretation o f the content provided in the classroom. 3 1 4 According to post-war psychologists, healthy adolescents could only develop within a democratic setting that enabled them to practice inner discipline in their work, and have freedom in school to make their own choices and mistakes. Influential 100 American child psychologist, Dr. Benjamin Spock, spoke to this point at an international conference on child psychology held in Toronto in Apr i l o f 1954, stating that teachers influenced " . . .the atmosphere of the classroom.. .their [students] inner discipl ine." 3 1 5 The famous pediatrician often directed his message to elementary teachers. The same message was also given to their secondary colleagues. George Roberts, a Durham Board principal and past president o f the O S S T F and O T F , explained to secondary teachers in the 1959 issue o f The Bulletin that flexibility could result in wrong decisions by students, but that: "This, we are told, is a lesson in responsibility for democratic choice, and a risk that must be taken." 3 1 6 School officials' desire for individuality within educational democracy fit snugly with a conservative vision of a productive citizenry that served, rather than burdened, the state. Roberts warned: '"joyriders' are perhaps the greatest obstacle in the way of one o f the teacher's major objectives: the nurturing o f the individualist in the age o f conformity." 3 1 7 It was not simply the health of the student, but rather the health of the democratic nation that concerned Roberts and many other educators. Roberts worried that Canadian schools were following the trend o f the United States where, "having created a welfare state of the body, they are now trying to create a welfare state o f the mind . " 3 1 8 Roberts and other conservative critics, including MacKinnon who referred to education as the new 'social service,' were also concerned with the government's renewed social security initiatives during the postwar period, such as health insurance, unemployment insurance and workmen's compensation. While more broadly based welfarism could be interpreted as protective measures for labour, the state provided only those concessions, some scholars have argued, that would thwart socialist activities, and secure a labour force fundamental to the Fordist regime o f 319 accumulation. Conservatives worried that the social security net would produce a lazy or 101 overly-dependent citizenry. The school could prevent this by inculcating students' with self-reliance and individuality. A s the first director o f U N E S C O , Julian Huxley stated at the time, " M a n must now take a conscious part in his own evolution, or there w i l l be no evolution." A s this chapter has suggested, schools were to ensure that each person made the 'right' choices to contribute as 'good' citizens to the 'democratic' nation. This chapter argues that, to understand the post-war period, educational historians need to look beyond progressivism or traditionalism. Rather, educational officials worked to produce secondary schools in the name o f democracy, a term that embodied diverse values. Given the chaotic post-war years, few education officials could deny those values that liberal 'democracy' conjured up in the minds of the public: freedom, equality, autonomy and order. What did 'democracy' really offer for the post-war educational agenda? 'Democratic' objectives, from national to more localized political and administrative discourses, and inclusive of both progressive and traditional theories of learning, produced an educational agenda that solidified, more than it disrupted, pre-war patterns o f normality. The ideal citizen was re-affirmed through post-war secondary schooling as white, middle-class and heterosexual. The conservative invocation of citizenship was often masked in the fluidity and multiplicity of language for 'democratic' values, relations and practices in secondary education. A closer examination of the assumptions and practices that underlay such discussions reveals that potentially 'democratic' visions were rife with hierarchical, bureaucratic and autocratic methods designed to "lead and direct an adequately socialized 321 majority." The freedom and choice o f a universally accessible education was envisioned as equality o f access and not of opportunity. Moral stability through character education provided for personal growth but always within the bounds of traditional values. The 102 secondary school's laboratory for practical democracy provided for individuality and autonomy accompanied by inner-discipline that was to guarantee social stability. This critical examination of educational 'democracy' illustrates that the concept itself is at once identifiable and clear, as well as unstable, contradictory, and at times, elusive. The next chapters w i l l suggest what the conflicted message of educational democracy meant in classrooms. In particular, they explore what the gendered implications were of democracy for the agents o f its implementation. What did freedom, morality and autonomy offer for women teachers in post-war secondary schools in Toronto and Vancouver? 103 1 2 8 Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education; Stamp, The Schools of Ontario; Sutherland, "The Triumph o f Formalism." 1 2 9 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 193. See, also, Robert M . Stamp, "Growing U p Progressive? Part II: Going to High School in 1950s Ontario," Historical Studies in Education 17, no.2 (Fall 2005): 321-31. 1 3 0 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 193. 1 3 1 Paul Axelrod, "Beyond the Progressive Education Debate: A Profile o f Toronto Schooling i n the 1950s," Historical Studies in Education 17, no.2 (Fall 2005): 227-41; Gidney, From Hope to Harris. 1 3 2 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 30. 1 3 3 Ibid., 31. 1 3 4 John Dewey, Experience and Education (60 t h Anniversary Edition) (Indiana: Kappa Delta P i , 1998), 34. See, also, John Dewey, School and Society (Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 1900); John Dewey, Democracy and Education (New York : M a c M i l l a n , 1916). 1 3 5 There exists on-going debate among education scholars, particularly in the United States, concerning competing strands o f progressivism. Scholars have identified two primary strands, namely, the liberal pedagogical progressives and the conservative administrative progressives. Most educators agree that more radical groups o f progressives had a limited presence in schools, particularly in first part o f the last century, with administrative reforms dominant. Furthermore, as David Labaree notes, pedagogical and administrative progressives, for their differences, shared many beliefs and often worked together. This was the case in post-war Canada. M y study places a greater emphasis on these similarities than Labaree, working as it does from the perspective o f 'senior officials' and teachers for whom such distinctions were rarely acknowledged in the post-war context. See, David F . Labaree, "The E d School's Romance with Progressivism," in Brookings Papers on Education Policy, ed. Diane Ravitch (Washington: Brookings Institution Press, 2004). 1 3 6 Dewey, Experience and Education. 1 3 7 W . H . Swift, "Pendulum or Synthesis?" in Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 1, 1954-1956 (Toronto: W . J . Gage, 1956), 83-84. 1 3 8 S.N.F. Chant, " A Canadian Education," in Canadian Education Today: A Symposium, ed. J . Katz (Toronto: M c G r a w - H i l l , 1956), 15. 1 3 9 Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal, 8. She bases this definition on M i c h e l Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction (New York , 1990); Jeffery Weeks, 'Foucault for Historians,' History Workshop 14 (Autumn 1982): 106-119. 1 4 0 Owram, Born At the Right Time; Tillotson, The Public at Play; Adams, The Trouble With Normal, 18-38. 1 4 1 Jean Mann, " G . M . Wei r and H . B . K i n g : Progressive Education or Education for the Progressive State?" in Schooling and Society in 20"' Century British Columbia, ed. J .D. Wi l son and Dav id C . Jones (Calgary, Alberta: Detselig Enterprises Limited, 1980), 115. 104 1 4 2 Notable exceptions in the Canadian context include: Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal; Adams, The Trouble with Normal. 1 4 3 Jean Barman, Sojourning Sisters; F. Henry Johnson, John Jessop: Goldseeker and Educator: Founder of the British Columbia School System (Vancouver: Mitchell Press, 1971). 1 4 4 H.L. Campbell, Curriculum Trends in Canadian Education (Quance Lectures in Canadian Education) (Toronto: Gage, 1953), 96-97. 1 4 5 Stanley T. Spicer, "Physical Fitness - A Problem for the Schools?" Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 2, 1956-1958 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1959), 61 and 64. 1 4 6 M.Wisenthal, "Summary of total full-time enrolment, by level of study, related to relevant population, Canada, selected year, 1951 to 1975" Historical Statistics of Canada, Section W: Education, 11-516-XIE (Ottawa: Statistics Canada, 2003). 1 4 7 Adams, The Trouble with Normal. 1 4 8 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 9. 1 4 9 John E. Lyons, Bikkars Randhawa, and Neil A . Paulson, "The Development of Vocational Education in Canada," Canadian Journal of Education 16, no.2 (1991): 142. 1 5 0 B.F. Addy, "Vocational and Industrial Education," in Canadian History Today: A Symposium, ed. J. Katz (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1956), 135. 1 5 1 Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University of Toronto, Ontario Historical Education Collection (OISE/UT, OHEC), Toronto Board of Education, Director of Education, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools work by the Toronto Board of Education, 1951, 5; 1952,37-39. 1 5 2 City of Vancouver Archives (CVA), Public School Records, Vancouver School Board, Board of School Trustees Annual Report, 1951-1952. 1 5 3 Addy, "Vocational and Industrial Education," 136. Ewart H . Morgan, "Secondary Education," in Canadian History Today: A Symposium, ed. J. Katz (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1956), 124. 1 5 5 C V A , H.B. Smith, "Ten Years of Secondary Education," Board of School Trustees Annual Report, 1959-60. 1 5 6 D. B . MacKenzie, "Providing for Individual Differences in Secondary Education in British Columbia," Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 1, 1954-1956 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1956), 33-36. 1 5 7 H . M . Evans, Composite High Schools in Canada, University of Alberta Monographs in Education, no.l , (1959):76, as cited by F. Henry Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia (Vancouver: Publications Centre, U B C , 1964), 182. 154 105 Toronto District School Board Sesquicentennial Museum and Archives (TDSBA.), Toronto Board of Education, Year Book (Toronto: Noble Scott Co. Limited, June 30, 1954), 12. For a listing and map of the collegiate institutes in the Toronto and Metropolitan areas see the Ontario Secondary School Teachers' Federation provincial newsletter, The Bulletin, November 1957 and November 1959. Newspapers of the period show that education officials debated the proposition of combining junior and senior high schools. This initiative was, however, shelved during the period under study. 1 5 9 TDSBA, C C . Goldring, "Appendix: Trends in Education," Toronto Board of Education, Board Minutes, January 6, 1950. 1 6 0 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects..., 1952, 8-10. 1 6 1 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 183. 1 6 2 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 188; Chant, "A Canadian Education," 15. 1 6 3 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 183; OISE/UT, OHEC, Canadian Teachers' Federation, "Information Notes - Pupil Retention in Canadian Schools," Pupil Retention in Canadian Schools (Ottawa: Canadian Teachers' Federation Research Division, January 1957). 1 6 4 OISE/UT, OHEC, "Pupil Retention in Canadian Schools"; Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 188; C V A , Board of School Trustees Annual Report, 1952-1958. 1 6 5 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects, 1953, 4. 1 6 6 Ralph W. Tyler, "Facing Up to the Big Issues," The B.C. Teacher, January 1953, 155. 1 6 7 W.G. Fleming, Ontario's Educative Society, Volume 3: Schools, Pupils and Teachers (Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1972), as quoted by Harry Smaller, "Vocational Training in Ontario's Secondary Schools: Past, Present - and Future?," Training Matters: Works In-Progress for the Labour Education and Training Research Network (York University, Centre for Research on Work and Training, April 2000), 14. 1 6 8 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 184. Toronto officials state in their 1953 annual report that schools were finding it difficult to obtain consent from parents to limit academic course options to those grade nine students who had limited ability or ambition. OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects, 1953, 3-4. 1 6 9 Aaron Benavot, "The Rise and Decline of Vocational Education," Sociology of Education 56, no.2 (1983): 63-76, as cited by Harry Smaller, "Vocational Training in Ontario's Secondary Schools," 10. For information on the history of streaming in Ontario schools see, Bruce Curtis, David W. Livingstone and Harry Smaller, Stacking the Deck: The Streaming of Working-Class Kids in Ontario Schools (Toronto: Our Schools/Our Selves, 1992). 1 7 0 Ron Hansen, "Comprehensive Secondary Schools: A Pilot Study of Two Ontario Schools Fifty Years After the Introduction of Comprehensive Programming," (Unpublished Report) (London, ON: The University of Western Ontario, Faculty of Education, 2002), 1: 106 1 7 1 Dorothy Thompson, Globe and Mail, 15 November 1957, as cited by William E. Hume and Harold F. Taylor, Trouble in the School: Educators Cheat Your Child and the Nation (Bracebridge, ON: Bracebridge Books, 1958), 12. 1 7 2 "Weir Says B C Youth Get Equal to Best," News Herald, 24 January 1947. 1 7 3 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects, 1951, 2. 1 7 4 R.S. Ritchie, "Your Product and Customers," The B.C. Teacher, February 1957. This was a talk adapted from an address delivered before the B.C. Education Conference, held at the University of British Columbia on November 16, 1956. 1 7 5 Ibid. 1 7 6 "One Student In Five Is 'Wasting School's Time'," Vancouver Herald, 4 Februrary 1957. This was a Canadian Press story that came out of Toronto. 1 7 7 Jacques Barzun, "The Battle Over Brains in Democratic Education," The University of Toronto Quarterly 23, no.2 (January 1954): 115. 1 7 8 Hilda Neatby, A Temperate Dispute (Toronto: Clark, Irwin and Company, 1954), 19. 1 7 9 Ibid. 1 8 0 Hilda Neatby, So Little for the Mind (Toronto: Clark, Irwin and Company, 1953). See, also, Arthur Bestor, Educational Wastelands: the retreat from learning in our public schools (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1953). 1 8 1 Neatby, So Little for the Mind; Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 12. 182 Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 32-34, 45-49. 1 8 3 Hugh A . Stevenson, "Developing Public Education in Post-War Canada to 1960," in Canadian Education: A History, ed. J.D. Wilson, R. Stamp, and L.P. Audet (Toronto: Prentice-Hall Limited, 1970), 387-399; Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education, 170-171; Douglas Myers, "From Hope to Hall-Dennis: The Official Report as an Instrument of Educational Reform," in Means and Ends in Education: Comments on Living and Learning, ed. Brian Crittenden (Toronto: The Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, 1969), 11-14. 1 8 4 Province of Ontario, Report of the Royal Commission on Education (Hope Commission) (Toronto: King's Printer, 1950), 34. 1 8 5 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 193. 186 Ibid. Province of British Columbia, Report of the Royal Commission on Education (Chant Commission) (Victoria: Queen's Printer, 1960), 17-18. 107 1 8 8 J. Harold Putnam and George M . Weir, Survey of the School System (Victoria: King's Printer, 1925). 1 8 9 Ibid., as quoted by Henry F. Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 257. 1 9 0 British Columbia, Report of the Royal Commission on Education, 264-360. 191 Vancouver,Sun, 30 December 1960, 1, as cited by F. Henry Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 267. 1 9 2 "How To Guide Pupils Outlined by Goldring," Globe and Mail, 9 February 1959. 1 9 3 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 15 and 28. See, also, Charles E. Phillips, Public Secondary Education in Canada (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1955). 1 9 4 William F. Russell, "Education Can Save Democracy," The Bulletin, April 1950, 65. 1 9 5 Ibid. 196 Ibid. 1 9 7 Ibid. 1 9 8 Paul R. Hanna, "The Educational Outlook at Mid-Century," The B.C. Teacher, January 1951, 152. 199 Morgan, "Secondary Education," 123. 2 0 0 Ibid., 40-41. 2 0 1 J .D.M. Griffin, "The Contribution of Child Psychiatry to Mental Hygiene," Canadian Public Health Journal 29 (November 1998), quoted by Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal, 119. 2 0 2 Ibid. 2 0 3 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects, 1951, 31 -32. 204 Tj)SBA, Toronto Board of Education, Annual Report - The Board of Education for the City of Toronto Reports to the Citizens for the Academic Year, 1960-1961, 13. 2 0 5 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1951-1954; TDSBA, Annual Report, 1960-1961. 2 0 6 C V A , Public School Records, British Columbia, Department of Education, Public Schools of the Province of British Columbia, Seventy-eighth Annual Report, 1949-1949 (Victoria, B C : King's Printer, 1950), 126-127. 207 208 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 186. Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal, 119. 108 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1954, 20-22; TDSBA, Annual Report, 1960-1961, 13. 2 1 0 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1954, 20-24. 2 1 1 Gleason, Normalizing the Ideal, 119-139. Gleason discusses the resistance of teachers to psychologists' demands for them to diagnose their students. 2 1 2 "Psychiatry Costs More At Schools," Toronto Sun, 2 March 1959. 2 1 3 Thomas Fleming and David Conway, "Setting Standards in the West: C.B. Conway, Science and School Reform in British Columbia, 1938-1974," Canadian Journal of Education 21, no.3 (1996): 303-304. The bureau was subsumed in 1947 by a larger Division of Tests, Standards and Research, under the direction of well-known British Columbian administrator C.B. Conway. 2 1 4 C V A , British Columbia, Annual Report, 1955-1956, 143-146. 2 1 5 Mann, " G . M . Weir and H.B. King," 99. 2 1 6 Ibid., 119-120. 2 1 7 Adams, The Trouble with Normal, 42. 2 1 9 Campbell, Curriculum Trends in Canadian Education, 44-46. 220 Ibid., 47. 2 2 1 Timothy J. Stanley, "White Supremacy and the Rhetoric of Educational Indoctrination: a Canadian case study," in Children, Teachers, and Schools In the History of British Columbian, ed. J. Barman, N . Sutherland, and J.D. Wilson (Calgary: Detselig, 1995). 2 2 2 Jose E. Igartua, "What nation, which people? Representations of national identity in English-Canadian history textbooks from 1945 to 1970," unpublished paper for CISH 2005, Themed Session, Textbooks: from the Narrative of the Nation to the Narrative of Citizens. Rebecca Coulter argues that textbooks by Donalda Dickie, written for the elementary level and approved for use in both British Columbia and Toronto, may have been an exception to the Anglo-Canadian nationalism of social studies textbooks during the period. For example, Coulter notes that in the 1930s and 40s Dickie produced two primers that featured Aboriginal children as protagonists. See, Donalda J. Dickie and George Di l l , Two Little Indians (Toronto: J .M. Dent, 1933); Donald J. Dickie, Joe and Ruth Go To School (Toronto: J .M. Dent, 1940). Rebecca Priegert Coulter, "Getting Things Done," 680-681. 2 2 3 Joy Parr, "Introduction," in A Diversity of Women: Ontario, 1945-1980, edited by Joy Parr (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995), 5. 2 2 4 Veronica Strong-Boag, "Canada's Wage-Earning Wives and the Construction of the Middle Class, 1945-1960," Journal of Canadian Studies 29, no.3 (1994), 7; Adams, 77je Trouble with Normal, 26. 109 2 2 5 "Girls in Slacks Spark a Furore," The Province, 22 December 1956. 2 2 6 See, for example, Franca Iacovetta, "Recipes for Democracy? Gender, Family, and making Female Citizens in Cold War Canada," in Rethinking Canada: The Promise of Women's History, 4 t h Edition, ed. V . Strong-Boag, A . Perry and M . Gleason (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). 2 2 7 W.E. Blatz, "Your Child - and Sex," Maclean's Magazine, 1 January 1945, 37-39, as cited by Adams, The Trouble with Normal, 75. 2 2 8 Adams, The Trouble with Normal, 2 1 . . 2 2 9 Martin Sable, "George Drew and the rabbis: Religious education and Ontario's public schools," Canadian Jewish Studies 6 (1998): 25-53. 230 Adams, The Trouble with Normal, 41. 2 3 1 Chant, " A Canadian Education," 18; Canadian Youth Commission, Youth Challenges the Educators (Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1946). For more on the commission, see, Michael Gauvreau, "The Protracted Birth of the Canadian 'Teenager': Work, Citizenship, and the Canadian Youth Commission, 1943-1955," in Cultures of Citizenship in Post-war Canada, 1940-1955, ed. N . Christie and M . Gauvreau (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2003). 2 3 2 TDSBA, Toronto Board of Education, Board Minutes, 6 January 1950, 138. 233 Ibid: 2 3 4 Hope Commission, Royal Commission on Education, Chapter IV, "Social, Spiritual and Other Aspects of Education" as cited by Edward E. Stewart, The 1955 Status of Recommendations in the Report of the Royal Commission on Education in Ontario, 1950 (Master's thesis: University of Michigan, 1956), 48-50. See also, Paul Axelrod, "Beyond the Progressive Education Debate," 237; Robert D. Gidney and Wynn P.J. Millar, "The Christian Recessional in Ontario's Public Schools," in Religion and Public Life in Canada: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives, ed. M . Van Die (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001). 2 3 5 Sable, "George Drew and the rabbis." According to the newspaper of the period, the issue gained renewed interest among educators. See, "Should Public Schools Teach Religion?" Globe and Mail, 10 February 1959. 236 Putnam and Weir, Survey of the School System, 53-55. 2 3 7 Moriah Shaw, "Bible Study," Homeroom: British Columbia's History of Education Website www.mala.bc.ca 2 3 8 During the same period, the provincial government was proposing the assimilation of Doukhobor children as a solution to their passive and violent protests for their own separate schooling. See Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 138-147. 2 3 9 Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 11-12. 110 2 4 0 " A n Ethical Basis," Vancouver Sun, 30 November 30,1946. 2 4 1 "Can Civilized Living Be Taught?" Vancouver Herald, 9 April 1957. 2 4 2 Ibid. 2 4 3 Philip Deane, "Character, Not Missiles, Is the Challenge," Globe and Mail, 25 January 1958, as cited by Hume and Taylor, Trouble in the School, 173. 2 4 4 J.G. Althouse, Addresses: A Selection of Addresses by the Late ChiefDirector of Education for Ontario, Covering the Years 1936-1956, 63. See, also, J.G. Althouse, Structures and Aims of Canadian Education (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1949). 2 4 5 E.J. Palmer, "Democracy in School Life: Report of the Schools Committee of the Association for Education in Citizenship," The Bulletin, February 1951, 24. 2 4 6 Ibid., 25. 2 4 7 Ibid. 2 4 8 G.E. Flower, "The Larger School Unit in Canada," in Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 1, 1954-1956 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1956), 37. 2 4 9 J .M. Paton, "Democracy's Challenge to Our Schools," in Concern and Competence in Canadian Education: Essays by J.M. Paton, edited by D.A. Maclver (Toronto: Guidance Centre, Faculty of Education, University of Toronto, 1973), 5. 2 5 0 Flower, "The Larger School Unit in Canada," 37. 2 5 1 Paton, "Democracy's Challenge to Our Schools," 6. 2 5 2 Flower, "The Larger School Unit in Canada," 37. 2 5 3 J.F.K. English, "The Reorganized System of Local School Administration in British Columbia," Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 2, 1956-1958 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1959), 44. 2 5 4 T. Fleming and B. Hutton, "School Boards, District Consolidation, and Educational Governance in British Columbia, 1872-1995," Canadian Journal of Educational Administration and Policy, 10 (January 1997): 1-22. The province began experimentation after the delivery of the 1935 Report on School Finance in British Columbia by Dr. Herbert B . King, a Liberal appointed investigator, principal at a Vancouver high school and part-time lecturer at the University of British Columbia. Fleming and Hutton discuss the initial experimentation with district consolidation, when Bi l l Plenderleith, inspector of schools for the Peace River region, filed a report to the Department of Education concerning the deplorable conditions of schools in his area and the potential savings of consolidation with bulk purchasing of supplies and the elimination of duplicate administrative services. 2 5 5 Maxwell A . Cameron, Report of the Commission ofInquiry into Educational Finance (Victoria: King's Printer, 1945), 83-87, as quoted by Johnson, A History of Education in British Columbia, 128. I l l 2 5 6 Ibid., 125-129. 2 5 7 Ibid., 131. 2 5 8 Ibid.; English, "The Reorganized System of Local School Administration in British Columbia,' 41. While most jurisdictions required years of local negotiations, Premier John Hart, and George Weir, his soon to be reinstated Minster of Education, delivered on a promise to fully implement Cameron's report throughout the province upon re-election. 259 260 English, "The Reorganized System of Local School Administration in British Columbia," 42-44. Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 184. See, also, Norman B. Baird, Educational Finance and Administration for Ontario (Toronto: Department of Research, Ontario College of Education, University of Toronto, 1952). 2 6 1 Ibid., 185. 2 6 2 Ibid. 2 6 3 Hope Commission, Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Chapter X and XI ; Stevenson, "Developing Public Education in Post-War Canada to 1960," 387. Similarly to British Columbia, Ontario had undertaken initial consolidations from the late 1930s onward. 2 6 4 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 24. One particularly contentious recommendation was restrictions on Roman Catholic schools. 2 6 5 Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education, 114-116. 266 -yy -p Newnham and A.S. Nease, The Professional Teacher in Ontario: The Heritage, Responsibilities and Practices (Toronto The Ryerson Press, 1965), 35. The Toronto Metropolitan School Board included both elementary and secondary schools in the city of Toronto, the towns of Leaside and Weston, the villages of Forest Hi l l and Swansea, the Lake'shore district, and East York, North York, Etobicoke, York, and Scarborough townships. For more information on the creation of metropolitan governance see W.J. McCordic, " A n Experiment in Metropolitan Government," Canadian Education 14, no.2 (1959). Canadian Education was a quarterly publication of the Canadian Education Association. 2 6 7 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 7. 2 5 8 Fleming and Hutton, "School Boards, District Consolidation, and Educational Governance in British Columbia." 2 6 9 English, "The Reorganized System of Local School Administration in British Columbia," 43. 2 7 0 "What We Said," 77J<? B.C. Teacher, December 1959, 132. This was a B C T F Brief to the Royal Commission on Education. 2 7 1 Hope Commission, Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Chapter X and XI ; Stevenson, "Developing Public Education in Post-War Canada to 1960," 387. 112 272 Althouse, Addresses, 117-118, as cited by Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 187. 2 7 3 G.E. Flower, "Supervision in School Systems," in Canadian Education Today: A Symposium, ed. J. Katz (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1956), 54-55 and 61. See, also, Eric Williams Ricker, Teachers, Trustees, and Policy: The Politics of Education in Ontario, 1945-1975 (Ph.D diss: University of Toronto, 1981). 2 7 4 Althouse, Addresses, 84. The emphasis is mine. 2 7 5 English, "The Reorganized System of Local School Administration in British Columbia," 44. 2 7 6 Cameron, Report of the Commission of Inquiry into Educational Finance, 87-96. 2 7 7 Province of British Columbia, Manual of School Law, (Victoria: Queen's Printer, 1958), 7, as cited by British Columbia Teachers' Federation, "What We Said," The B.C- Teacher, December 1959, 133; Province of Ontario, Partial List ofActs Pertaining to the Administration of Education in Ontario (Public Schools Act) (Ontario: Baptist Johnston, Printer to the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty, 1954), 86-90. 2 7 8 Althouse, Addresses, 148; OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1952, 2-3. 2 7 9 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 156. 2 8 0 W.D. Douglas, "The Principal and Supervision and Inspection," The Bulletin, 31 May 1957, 141; C.W. Booth, "Some Basic Aims and Recent Trends in Secondary Education," Canadian Education 14, no.4 (1959): 46-47. Douglas was a member of the Supervision and Inspection Committee of the OSSTF. 2 8 1 OISE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1952, 2-3. 2 8 2 G.E. Flower, "The New Principal," Education: A Collection of Essays in Canadian Education, Volume 2, 1956-1958 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1959), 69. 283 284 Ibid., 71; Flower, "Supervision in School Systems," 56-57. Booth, "Some Basic Aims and Recent Trends in Secondary Education," 44. 2 8 5 Ibid. Flower, "Supervision in the School System," 56. 2 8 8 For examples of supervision concerns in British Columbia: "Editorial - Rating Scales," The B.C. Teacher, December 1947, 87-88; "Teacher Blacklist Charge Under Probe," Vancouver Sun, 28 September 1951; C V A , Public School Records, Minutes of School Principals' Meetings, Loc. 74-A-6, "Principal Reports on Teachers: Teacher Absences, and Teacher Exchange to Toronto," February 113 28, 1956. For a more thorough examination of such concern in the Ontario context, see Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism. 2 8 9 "What We Said," The B.C. Teacher, December 1959, 146. 2 9 0 "Education 1959," The B.C. Teacher, May-June 1959, 389. 2 9 1 Ibid., 84-85. 2 9 2 Allan B. Morrison, "Curriculum Construction," in Canadian Education Today: A Symposium, ed. J. Katz (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1956), 80-81. 2 9 3 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 190. 2 9 4 Ibid., 190. 2 9 5 D .L . Pritchard, "Curriculum Planning in Ontario," The B.C. Teacher, December 1952, 113-114. 2 9 6 Ibid. 2 9 7 Morrison, "Curriculum Construction," 89-90. 2 9 8 Myers, "From Hope to Hall-Dennis," 16. 2 9 9 L.S. Beattie, "Group Planning and Teacher Participation in Curriculum Revision," The Bulletin, June 1951, 120. 3 0 0 Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 191. 3 0 1 Campbell, Curriculum Trends in Education, 101-107. 3 0 2 Pritchard, "Curriculum Planning in Ontario," 114. 3 0 3 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 253. 3 0 4 "Education 1959," The B.C. Teacher, May-June 1959, 389. 3 0 5 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 253. 3 0 6 Flower, "Supervision in School Systems," 53. 3 0 7 Frank MacKinnon, The Politics of Education: A Study of the Political Administration of the Public Schools (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1960), 3-4. 3 0 8 Ibid., 24-42. He argued that administrators, who had little access to students but still gave orders to teachers about how to instruct them, decreased the profession's autonomy and the ability to recruit 'good' teachers. Large post-war initiatives, notably by the Canadian Education Association in association with the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, to develop leadership in the schools had designated the teacher as relatively unimportant compared to administrators. See, also, Althouse, Addresses, 58. The Canadian Education Association often worked in association with the W.K. Kellogg foundation 114 to improve educational research through workshops and lectures during the period in question. The Foundation was created in 1930 by the United States entrepreneur W.K. Kellogg. Kellogg created the foundation to support philanthropic initiatives that would primarily focus on the education and health of children. 3 0 9 Ibid, 86-87. 3 1 0 Ibid., 87-88. While he acknowledged the need for certain central regulations and administrative duties that might affect teachers' academic freedom, he argued that it should be avoided as much as possible. 3 1 1 Ibid., 8, 82. 3 , 2 OTSE/UT, OHEC, Report on the experimental and newer aspects of schools, 1952, 5. 3 1 3 Chris Crombie, "New Approach to School Problem," Vancouver Sun, 13 September 1950. 3 1 4 TDSBA, Toronto Board of Education, Annual Report, 1960-1961; C V A , Vancouver School Board, Board of School Trustees Annual Report, 1959-1969. 3 1 5 Benjamin Spock, "Preventative Applications for Psychiatry," Merrill-Palmer Quarterly 1 (1955): 7, as quoted by Gleason, 132. 3 1 6 George Roberts, "What Do 'They' Mean?," The Bulletin, October 1950, 189. 3 1 7 George Roberts, "What's Wrong with Our Teachers?" The Bulletin, December 1959, 393. 3 1 8 Ibid., 392-393. 3 , 9 Bryan D. Palmer, Working-Class Experience: Rethinking the History of Canadian Labor, 1800-1991, Second Edition (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1992), 269. 3 2 0 J.W. Perks, "To What Ends Shall We Teach?," Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 1, 1954-1956 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1956), 7. 3 2 1 Mann, " G . M . Weir and H.B. King," 115. / 115 Chapter 3 'Democratic' Knowledge, Teacher Professionalism, and the 'Female' Weak Link The professional standards set for post-war teachers implied that any committed and properly trained individual could further democracy. The growing body o f feminist research into education and democracy has refuted such easy connections, arguing that liberal discourse, such as that in post-war education circles, marginalizes egalitarian principles o f professionalism. 3 2 2 Political theorist Diana Coole explains that reason is the idealized crux of liberal democratic thought. It endows the holder with political power to participate in Western democracy. In European philosophical tradition and political theory, only man can possess reason. Western thought, Coole argues, continues to assert gendered hierarchies o f knowledge and citizenship, "mind over body, culture over nature, reason over emotion, order over chaos," within which the feminine is a metaphor for the lesser terms. 3 2 3 The knowledge-bearing, rational, and autonomous subject is conflated with dominant notions of masculinity, and the feminine 'other' conflated with subjectivity and emotionality. Women are, as Lorene M . G . Clark suggests, in the 'ontological basement' o f political life and the democratic state. 3 2 4 Carole Pateman's work on the 'fraternal pact' in the public sphere stresses that liberal discourse positions women far removed from the disembodied and reasonable citizen, symbolized through the freedom-fighter male soldier. Ironically enough, given assumptions regarding women's supposed lesser capacity for violence, they are conceptualized as a threat to social order. 3 2 5 Within this essentialist binary, only men can objectively transcend personal interests to legitimately participate in and uphold orderly, public politics. 116 A t least in theoretical terms, the ability to reproduce or teach curriculum productive of civilized democratic citizens is predicated upon this gender dualism. This is Jo-Anne Dillabough's primary point as she explores how Enlightenment concepts have re-emerged in the modern narratives of teachers and diminished the view o f women as professionals. 3 2 6 She argues that contemporary British educational discourses present 'neutral' representations of teachers in which women are free and equal to men in their capacity for independent educational practice within a liberal democracy. Simultaneously, however, governing authorities deem seemingly 'feminine' characteristics o f personal reflexivity, authenticity, and sociability as ineffectual. A 'good' teacher becomes a technician of state-determined standardized outputs, not a socially-engaged critical reformer. Dominant masculinist models o f autonomous and politically detached subjects denote success. Drawing on the work o f Valerie Walkerdine and Helen Lucey, Dillabough notes "it is still the bourgeois male teacher or student who is honoured with the title of 'rational being' in the purest sense.. .women teachers and female students cannot possess knowledge in their own right because they are viewed as moral vessels through which liberal democracy and the rational society are 327 cultivated." The structure o f both teaching and professionalism has located women teachers as symbolic of the private sphere, unable to fulfill the rational ideal for liberal democratic citizenship. A t the same time, women teachers, positioned as mothers in the school and as guardians of the nation, must support the very democratic principles that underlie their inferiority to men teachers. 3 2 8 The result, Dillabough suggests, "leads to women's exclusion from the formal language o f teacher professionalism, yet simultaneously defines their inclusion on the basis of female subordination." 3 2 9 Most feminist scholars of women teachers' identity formation, like Dillabough, have examined the relationship between knowledge production and gender social construction 117 through a contemporary lens. Wi th the notable exception o f Walkerdine and Lucey, few have explored the historical evolution of this relationship. The contractions between the ideals o f knowledge production and the gendered codes o f professionalism can readily be detected in post-WWII Toronto and Vancouver. Canada and its democratic schools required instructors who gained and transmitted 'expert' knowledge to technical, vocational and academically streamed students. Teachers were to be instrumental actors for 'democratic' state goals. This meant, as outlined earlier in this thesis, producing technologically literate workers for capitalist accumulation and citizens with higher-order rationality for Western supremacy. This orientation came at the expense of a broadening 'democratic' purpose for developing students' unique strengths. It also readily disadvantaged socially engaged, reflexive teachers. This chapter demonstrates how women teachers, like students who were sorted in the new 'democratic' curriculum that devalued non-academic streams, were classified as gendered in their capacity for academic/rational knowledge. Most progressive and traditional teacher educators did not correlate secondary teachers' competency with 'feminine' capabilities, such as an effective connection with children or appreciation o f learning theories. Rather, in the era of the space race and faith in scientific expertise, teachers were evaluated according to technical functionalism, measurable student achievement and objective standards of practice that took masculinist advantage for 330 granted. Women teachers in Vancouver and Toronto were confronted by educators, from politicians to federation representatives, who affirmed that men were natural scholars and thus more committed to academic qualifications as professionals. Women teachers, who flooded schools in response to post-war staff shortages, were routinely counted as less qualified, less capable and less committed. Women, with their assumed primary obligation 118 to the home, could not fulfill the intellectual and technical ideal for 'democratic' citizenship. Yet, ironically enough, they were to be its handmaidens in ushering in the new post-war world. This chapter also moves significantly beyond those feminist political and social theorists who concentrate on women's exclusion from 'democratic' life. It examines the responses o f women teachers themselves to their contradictory inclusion as 'professionals' in 331 schools. How did they define their identity given the gender dualism? D i d women teachers capture a sense of professionalism by embracing their perceived private sphere capabilities, despite its weak status, or did they take up dominant masculine forms o f competence to achieve professional autonomy? 3 3 2 Do their narratives question these distinctions? Without the experiential understandings of the women teachers themselves, the gender dualism of teacher professionalism within liberal 'democratic' discourse remains at best abstract and at worst universal. Their oral histories, introduced in the first section o f this chapter, reveal that the majority o f women attempted to cast their teaching selves as rational, knowledge-bearing professionals. The following section demonstrates the ways women's grip on such an identity was made tenuous by education administrators and women's own various social locations. A DISEMBODIED ' R A T I O N A L ' IDENTITY In the course o f interviews, teachers revealed that they understood they worked during a period in which there was increased public faith, and corresponding government actions, for schools to contribute to the progress o f the West. Wi th burgeoning ambitions but limited resources, post-war citizens relied upon teachers to meet the challenge of the nuclear age. 119 School officials needed instructors who could act on these hopes. J . G . Althouse, the Chief Director o f Education for Ontario, and Dean from 1934 to 1944 of the Ontario College of Education (OCE) , responded to worries about schools' capacity to take on the task o f modern democracy and voiced a commonplace dilemma: "the rising tide that demands special treatment for every child is hard to square with the insistence for raising 333 standards." Other critics went further. Hi lda Neatby posed the question: "Is Teaching a Learned Profession?" 3 3 4 A teacher training manual used in Ontario during the latter part o f the post-war period, written by W . T . Newnham and A . S . Nease, similarly asked "Is 335 Teaching a Profession?" Although these two administrators answered in the affirmative, the reduction in qualifications for teaching, even as teachers' responsibilities for 'democratic' security grew, was greeted with uneasiness. 3 3 6 Teachers' federations across the country supplied thorough in-depth analyses of what it meant to be a 'good' teacher for educational 'democracy.' Both progressive and traditional commentators writing in the B C T F and OSSTF newsletters agreed that 'good' classroom instructors had to defend democracy by nourishing intelligence in youth, thereby preparing them for employment. Teachers were not to instruct 'the subject or the child,' the typical paradigm for these learning theories, but were to know their subject in sufficient depth, to translate specialized knowledge, and instill a desire for intellectual development in youth. Historian Rebecca Coulter argues that progressive educator Donalda Dickie, a recognized leader in teacher-education who authored the textbook The Enterprise in Theory and Practice, believed in teaching based on child-centered instruction and the mastering of knowledge and skills. In the later stages of her career, Dickie retracted her sole adherence to the progressive-oriented 'project method' for democratic instruction, because students "leave school without ever having read a complete, connected history o f their country." 3 3 8 r 120 While debates continued regarding the best methods for achieving such ends, namely a progressive emphasis on experience-based learning or traditional teacher-directed instruction, substantial agreement existed about the need for professional training and the qualities of a 'good' teacher. This commonplace consensus was revealed in a 1959 article on the definition of the professional teacher. The author, F.J . McNamara, a senior teacher in Sault Ste. Marie and regular contributor to the O S S T F Bulletin, explained: "we w i l l discover that what we admire in modern pedagogy is in many ways but a rediscovery of Christian tradition." While he may have underestimated the differences in educational theory, he reflected the widespread agreement that competency was based on the association between expertise and service to the community. These qualities were outlined more specifically in an accompanying article by J .L. Ord, Superintendent of Schools for Ontario's Windsor District. In "The Qualities of a Good Teacher," he pointed to a person's feeling for teaching, their interest in understanding children, and serving students' educational needs. Equally important was sound scholarship and a thorough knowledge of subjects. 3 4 0 These two qualities were echoed by a prominent British Columbian educator, Edgar Dale, in an A p r i l article that same year. In The B. C. Teacher, he presented the professional teacher as an "an efficient learner" who had "mastered the subject matter o f his own f ie ld . "^ 1 Dale argued, moreover, that intellectual goals were only effective with teachers who could communicate to boys and girls from a diversity of backgrounds. He further insisted: "Our democratic tradition of universal education was fought for by public-minded citizens.. .he [the teacher] must see himself as a person in the public service, dedicated to helping others build a freely communicating, "^ 49 inclusive society." 121 Professionalism was commonly presented as relatively apolitical. It simply meant garnering the natural respect o f the community as 'experts' who would elevate the raw material of youth into precious human resources for the nation. Specific qualifications for professionalism often sounded innocuous. Newnham and Nease assumed that teaching was a typical profession in requiring university education, professional training, and recognition by the publ ic . 3 4 3 Conservative Neatby pointed similarly to public recognition, an ethical code of moral integrity, and skills in teaching practice. 3 4 4 The implication was that potential teachers, like their students, had every chance to obtain the knowledge necessary for proficiency. Underlying these seemingly gender-neutral concepts of competency, however, was a hierarchy o f knowledge that subordinated the caring, communicative teacher to those deemed intellectual 'craftsman.' The intellectual part o f teaching was continuously stressed by post-war commentators. McNamara, who asserted himself as a centralist in the progressive and traditional debate, made this especially clear when he discussed the need for teachers to understand not only the 'gifted' but the ' s low' student. In his assessment, however, it was "much easier for the bright teacher to develop such understanding than for the stupid or mediocre teacher to become bright." 3 4 5 Nevi l le Scarfe, Dean of the University of British Columbia's Faculty o f Education and self-proclaimed progressive, actually warned that affective teaching could create gullible and undiscerning citizens. In "The Aims of Education in a Free Society," for the Second Canadian Conference on Education in March of 1962, Scarfe compared learning to scientific research, within which the teacher's job was to mentally train students for clear logical thinking, thereby decreasing students' "susceptibility to emotional persuasion and subtle propaganda." 3 4 6 For Scarfe, a teacher's ability was judged first and foremost by the development o f rational powers in students. O f course, in 122 democratic fashion, he was not simply reserving rationality for university-bound students: "Thinking is in no sense restricted to academic subject-matter... Music and vocational subjects may engage the rational powers o f pupils equally so . " 3 4 7 Ken Argue, Scarfe's more traditional colleague in educational philosophy, was crude in his prioritization of a teacher's personal aptitude for working and relating to youth. Quoted in the March 1953 issue o f Maclean's, Argue stated: "Many people think that as long as you love children you can teach.. .Dogs love children." These educators signaled that teachers' 'natural' creative and communication ability were not learned skills for professional expertise. Rather, intellectualism was the prized commodity with observable outcomes, which fitted well with a renewed emphasis in Vancouver and Toronto secondary schools on streaming students based on intelligence testing, implementing government-developed external and standardized tests, and having faith in science-based 'experts.' The narratives o f the women in both cities reflected this rather 'taken-for-granted' conception o f post-war professionalism. When referring to their colleagues or role-models, the majority of women plainly referred to them as 'good' teachers. It was difficult to tease out more, as the definition seemed self-evident to them. When asked what exactly a 'good' teacher was during the late 1940s and '50s, Donna Weber, who taught in Vancouver secondary schools,-answered: "Someone who knew the subject...who could put it across in a way that the student could enjoy it and take it in, learn something, change their behaviour." 3 4 9 Donna's general, third person response was typical. She and the other teachers were acknowledging the basic dual function for them of knowledge expertise and communication with students that was established by teacher representatives and political officials. A t the same time, however, the women recognized the different value put on professional scholarship and supposed natural sympathies. Catharine Darby, also of 123 Vancouver, argued that a 'good' teacher was one who was "interested in kids," but she summed up the best teachers as "a l l scholars." Catherine asserted that "anyone who didn't fit into that category [scholar] soon drifted away - they went elsewhere." Phoebe McKenz ie of Toronto echoed these sentiments. M u c h like school officials o f the period, she contended that teachers guaranteed school order, respect and control not so much by sympathy as by respect. Phoebe McKenz ie believed that teachers were perceived as caring when "there was order in a classroom and there was going to be respect.. .the big thing was to get your [students'] schoolwork done and get them to university." 3 5 1 These women recognized that ? professional autonomy and authority was predicated upon rational 'expertise'; a quality that could garner respect by setting teachers apart from parents, critics and even many political administrators. When the women were asked i f or how they perceived themselves as 'good' teachers, their rapport with youth seemed secondary. In a rare statement, Abigai l Sears o f Vancouver commented: "I had a good relationship with students and therefore I didn't have any great problem." Most of the interviewees called upon dominant masculinist conceptions o f teacher professionalism, namely as disengaged scholars and technicians for student achievement, to define their successful careers. A scholar or 'expert' identity was perhaps the strongest theme that characterized women's narratives from both cities. For most women with university backgrounds, which accounted for seventeen o f the twenty interviewees, their liberal arts background was central to teaching. They often discounted t the significance o f their teacher training as "how to" and "boring." In contrast, they provided detailed and energized accounts o f their undergraduate and/or graduate courses and the scholars from which they learned their subject areas. Compared to the easily passed year at O C E , Karen Phillips, a teacher in Toronto, recalled her undergraduate degree in languages 124 V during the 1940s as "...unrealistically heavy... a high degree o f breakdowns and people dropping out because o f the pressures o f the course." Although difficult, she referred to her professors as "inspiring, brilliant, and famous." Despite her unusual qualification of a doctorate in English, Karen's heavy emphasis on academic work versus professional training was far from unique. Women without graduate degrees, and in less academic subjects, still asserted the centrality o f their university training. Vancouver's Catharine Darby recounted her academic success in home economics in the late 1930s and early '40s as really being a triumph in science, involving quite a few courses in conjunction with the medical school, still an uncommon practice for women at the time. Her science knowledge lay at the heart of her effectiveness: "When you get into dyes there is a tremendous amount o f chemistry involved. When you get into baking a cake .. .there is physics involved... .it 's no wonder it is a science field." Other women did not dwell upon academic backgrounds, despite their university training, but they nevertheless asserted 'expertise' in their teaching area. This was particularly the case for the physical education teachers, most of who interviewed for this study taught for the Vancouver Board. Sophie Canning, for example, spoke extensively about her athletics background in the 1940s playing for championship sports teams and, in fact, working as a professional athlete to pay for university, as the basis of her teaching proficiency. Obtaining her first job had nothing to do with her teacher training or her ability to interact with youth generally. Rather, she stated: "I started at 14 on a senior women's team so I was on a championship team and so they wanted a good athlete - that's how I got the j o b . " 3 5 4 Sophie's was one of a number of narratives in which specialized knowledge and the expectations o f post-war education officials strongly correlated. Demonstrating 'expert' 125 knowledge, regardless o f practical experience and specific teacher training, seemed to provide many women with access and promotion to what they deemed the 'best' employment opportunities. Karen Phillips, an English and language teacher, made this clear as she described her first job interview for a collegiate institute in the Toronto area in the mid-1940s. A long with asking about "what church you belonged to," what the male administrators mostly cared about was "your academic standing, realizing the importance o f being on top of your subject." In fact, some women credited their superior academic performances as essential for urban employment. Rural schools, with their smaller budgets, l ikely attendance problems, were almost always less desirable. 3 5 5 The interviewees, like the broader education community, credited city situations with superior standards, greater possibilities for promotion, and higher salaries. Teaching in centres such as Vancouver and Toronto was often deemed a privilege for the strongest 'experts' in each field. June West, who taught English and was the only one in Toronto who also instructed physical education, affirmed this in observing, "It was very difficult to get jobs particularly in the city so most of my classmates had to get jobs out of town... Barrie, All is ton, you name it. But with higher grades I got a job at [a Toronto school] just starting." Cecil ia Reynolds' study on becoming a teacher during this period supports June's memory. Reynolds shows that hiring practices in the 1940s, often based on personal connections, meant that women were placed in multi-grade, rural schools in which they were the junior staff member with a male 357 manager. In contrast, men may gain some experience in rural areas but were typically i f o given their smaller school to alone teach and manage. Many women in the study, particularly those in Vancouver, had to start careers in quite isolated regions of their province. They asserted that it was their superior subject 126 knowledge that eventually got them not only a job in the city, but employment in the best 'academic schools,' promotions to teach senior grades, and even appointments to typically male held positions as head of department. Sadie Chow stated that she did not get a position in the city initially because "first o f all I am Oriental and they would only take the top ten." 3 6 0 Chow, the only visible minority woman in the study and actually one o f the first Chinese women to teach at the secondary level in Vancouver, argued she forced school officials to see her ethnicity as a non-issue by proving she was an expert in home economics. A s a result, she believed that she obtained a position at one of the best city schools and later became a department head at a different secondary school. In Toronto, Murie l Fraser acknowledged that it was critical for her to have attended the University of Sorbonne to study French in the late 1940s in order to be recognized as an "expert" in French, to access the "serious French students," and become head o f the languages department. Women implied that they needed to go 'above and beyond' what was expected of their male peers, which at that point was a university degree, plus one-year training at a College of Education. These requirements were often waived to find enough teachers, especially for rural areas, but formal teacher preparation and higher credentials were increasingly becoming the requirement. 3 6 1 Women teachers portrayed their accomplishments as part o f a seemingly normal process of building credentials and climbing the professional ladder. They constructed narratives as 'normal' professionals working within the bureaucratic system, much as technical experts for standardized outputs. Perhaps Phoebe's earlier reference is most telling. She defined teacher competency as control and discipline for high examination results and the production o f university-bound students. British Columbia's women teachers made a similar case. Their oral histories were characterized by language o f efficiency and 127 productivity as they explained how they got observable, concrete results for their work as 'experts.' A l m a Erickson, a teacher in math and science, claimed that her school had a reputation for 'good' teachers because the staff was a disciplined cadre o f professionals. She defined 'discipline' in this way: " W e l l you taught the material and you got good results from your students and later in the year when they wanted a good course and they were going on to University they wanted to enroll in your classes." 3 6 2 These results were not just expected from the traditional academic courses that A l m a taught. Donna Weber expressed similar expectations o f her physical education students. She stated: "I was considered to be a good teacher. I didn't have any discipline problems.. .1 also just followed the system that was there...It was a very academic school." Stories of'successful' secondary school graduates supplied the dominant theme in women's narratives. Whi le discussing her pedagogy in teaching French, Beth Merle noted: "I have a former student who is a Ph.D. in French and has developed this programme and her father sent me a brochure...she can get them [students] used to hearing different voices for the language." 3 6 3 For Beth, this former pupil 's accomplishments confirmed the professionalism of her mentorship. Similarly, Mur ie l Fraser focused the interview on her successful graduates that used French and German in their careers: "One needed it [bilingualism].. .ended up at one point being the President o f York University." The same narrative typified the memory of Grace Logan, a Latin teacher in one of the only specifically designated schools for technical students in Vancouver. She was specific in making the case that: "everyone had the wrong impression about Tech . . . Tech was meant really to train for technical jobs but they found that i f they took a language and English until their grade twelve they could get into university . . . a lot of them d i d . " 3 6 4 Through stories of their 128 former pupils, women teachers demonstrated that they had in fact produced leaders for their communities. Despite teaching in vocational, general and academic streams, few spoke o f students other than the university-bound. Furthermore, the interviewees rarely discussed classes as a whole, or students that they personally helped from 'slipping through the cracks' o f the system. The women did not discuss 'failures' in their classes, even when directly questioned. They seemed to assume not only that post-WWII secondary schools were more accessible, but that in practice educational 'democracy' was 'sink or swim' for their students and themselves. Failures indicated a failure of their abilities as teachers, without the recognition of external factors to student success. Ironically, it was almost as i f their memories of the most 'successful' students ultimately kept the women themselves from 'slipping through the cracks' o f educational 'democracy.' If their interviews were any guide, their relationship to star graduates made these teachers successful. Few teachers alluded to patriotic inspiration or the ideal of 'democratic' superiority for desiring the status of rational, knowledge-bearing professionals. They sought to express professional competency, even as they acknowledged women's precarious standing, by describing their careers within a survival theme. The women repeatedly used defensive language to suggest a lack o f respect by educational officials. Phoebe McKenz ie , a teacher in one of Toronto's collegiate institutes, repeatedly returned to this theme: "There was strain •> s c on me. I knew I had to prove myself again." In Phoebe's case, the strain to prove she was a 'good' teacher was directly related to her marriage. Phoebe had many interruptions in her career in the late 1940s and 50s as a result of getting married and having children. She typically deferred to her husband's "very successful" secondary teaching career. Although not dealing with the tensions of marriage and motherhood, like Phoebe, Mur ie l Fraser 129 described her career as "managing to survive." A t the same time, she noted being passed over for promotion to head o f the French department because a male colleague wanted the position and he was a 'family man' who had served in the war. Abigai l Sears, a physical education teacher, appropriately selected the metaphor o f a "game" for her post-war teaching career. In her experience, playing that game meant fighting for resources and respect from her male colleagues. The game was the potentially damaging value system of'democratic' knowledge that produced particular gender dynamics for women teachers in the post-war period. Women, as mothers, nurturers and social creatures, were viewed by the school community as unable to acquire and transmit 'rational' knowledge. The 'secondary' status o f seemingly 'rudimentary' and 'naturally' abilities, like sociability, reflexivity, and subjectivity, is troubling in itself. O f particular concern is how school officials positioned women in association with these 'inferior' qualities, and thus as second-class professionals for the functioning o f educational 'democracy.' Women were presented with the dilemma o f balancing their 'feminine' subjectivities, constructed as inappropriate for the profession, and emulating 'masculine' attributes, considered unacceptable for women at that t ime. 3 6 6 Not surprising most o f the women constructed their oral histories through stories o f emotional detachment, similarly noted in Emma Rich 's study as "a utilitarian approach to teaching, with less emphasis on responding to students' needs or the processes of learning, and more emphasis on learning 367 outcomes and control." Such a unitary, singular picture of the professional self was a seemingly irrefutable self-defense against any accusation that women were not capable of setting aside 'feminine' qualities o f emotionality and sociability to produce rational, democratic citizens for the strength of the nation. Such defense was ultimately, however, quite fragile in the eyes o f most contemporary educational authorities who questioned 130 women's grasp on 'democratic' knowledge necessary for professionalism. Women's narratives, however, challenge liberal democratic rhetoric that conveys women's personal inadequacies, rather than their social positioning, as the 'weak l ink' for post-war professionalism. The women interviewed were proud of their accomplishments. W O M E N TEACHERS' PROFESSIONALISM AS PROBLEMATIC Despite their faith in their academic prowess, women teachers had to confront the common distinction educators of the era made between teacher training for the secondary level, dominated by men, and the elementary level, dominated by women. Superior occupational status was denoted for the secondary level, because of its relative focus on the academic stream or university-bound students. This status was most often constructed by post-war school officials as simply an issue o f higher credentials, with secondary teachers holding university degrees. A closer reading of teacher educators' perceptions o f the qualities of female-dominated elementary teaching, however, reveals that such distinctions were based on the pervasive conception of a gendered rationality for teacher proficiency; secondary women thus had to deny guilt by 'female' association. In both Vancouver and Toronto, women accounted for approximately 30 percent o f secondary teachers and 80 percent o f 368 elementary teachers. Like the comprehensive schools of the post-war period, educators implemented a change to the structure of teacher training that was intended to bring equality o f opportunity for elementary and secondary teacher training within one setting, that being the university. While this move created an appearance of improved opportunity for all teacher candidates, the result was sustained differentiation of the offerings and assessment of these programs. 131 Mil ton LaZerte was a leading proponent of the establishment o f faculties o f Education across Canada that would encompass teaching training 'under-one-roof.' A Professor Emeritus at the University o f Alberta, Dean of Education at the University of Winnipeg, and the expert to whom most educators turned when discussing the criteria for teacher professionalism in the 1940s and '50s, LaZerte stood out among many teacher educators o f the period who insisted that the lower qualifications for elementary training, and thus for mostly female teachers, needed to be addressed to increase the publics' waning trust in the knowledge of its educators. Most notable was his 1949 report for the Canadian Education Association ( C E A ) on ways to improve the status of teaching, thoughts he extrapolated upon in his 1950 Quance lectures, Teacher Education in Canada, at the University of Saskatchewan. He argued that membership ethics and commitment had to be instilled for teachers to be recognized as professionals. More importantly, teachers needed an adequate university-based training that provided them with a body of technical knowledge, from which they should act as scientific researchers in their subject fields. Using the language of economic efficiency, LaZerte fought for mandatory degree requirements for both secondary and primary instructors. Those without university training, notably, of course, women in the elementary sector who qualified through Normal Schools, lowered professional standards since: "The public judges a profession by the lowest not by the highest qualifications." 3 7 0 LaZerte saw his demands partially fulfilled in 1956 when the Faculty o f Education at the University o f British Columbia opened with Nevil le V . Scarfe as Dean . 3 7 1 The Normal School, the Summer School o f Education and the School of Education at the University were subsumed into this new Faculty. British Columbia, in conjunction with Alberta, was seen as a leader in raising the standards and status o f teachers generally and o f elementary teachers 132 in particular. Elementary teachers could receive a Bachelor of Arts or Education degree after four years, but were permitted to teach after one year o f university credits. The same year in Ontario, Normal Schools were renamed Teachers' Colleges in an effort to raise the prestige o f the elementary level. It was not until 1974, however, just before these Colleges were absorbed by university-banded Faculties o f Education, that elementary training obtained degree-granting privileges. 3 7 3 L ike the post-war comprehensive school, however, teachers' colleges continued to distinguish elementary and secondary training programs, with few cross-over course options or instructors. They remained much the same as before re-organization, with the universities gaining little control over teacher certification. This stayed in the hands o f each province's Department of Education. The continuity o f distinct elementary and secondary programs, inclusive of the devaluation o f the former, is conveyed in the description by George A . Hickman, Dean o f the Faculty of Education at Memorial University in Newfoundland. The 'new' teacher programs were separated by grade levels, which he categorized as general and professional streams. 3 7 4 Professional education, according to Hickman, was specialized training that embraced preparation in academic areas. Here he speaks of a teacher's expertise, clarity and logic to become "a reasonably intelligent member of a staff which concerns itself with the reconstruction and administration of the curriculum of the school; an understanding o f the principles governing classroom organization, management and control ." 3 7 5 Hickman made clear that it was the secondary level, dominated by male teachers, to which specialization applied, " . . .for it is obvious that a broad general education is better for the elementary 376 school teacher." The general education in Canadian teacher training centres included, according to Hickman, the development of knowledge and skills that should be the common possession of all citizens of a democratic society, such as personal growth and responsible 133 citizenship. A s he outlined, general education prepared elementary teachers to cultivate the social, not public and professional, elements o f education. His words envisioned a housewife for the nation: "They [general educators/elementary teachers] are concerned with the natural world in which man makes his home, with the social world of which he is a responsible part, and with the personal world within which man discovers himself. They contribute to the student's capacity to function well . . . as a member of a fami ly . " 3 7 7 Hickman's language makes clear that secondary teachers were functional and public actors for intelligent citizenship, whereas elementary teachers were preparing for the role of nurturing mother. For the women o f this study, LaZerte and Hickman represented not simply the perceived domesticated credentials of the elementary level, but an assessment of women's general teaching abilities as inferior, 'common,' and 'unskilled.' The stigmatizing effects o f such dismissal were evident in the oral histories. This was especially visible for those women who were trained and often held their first positions in the elementary division. For some, elementary training happened within Normal Schools, prior to consolidation, but again this differed little from later university-based programs. Normal School or the shorter elementary training at university was a far more affordable option, especially for women, who earned less than men, and whose families were less likely to consider them life-long wage-earners. It was also considered by the public and educational administrators to be a more 'natural' fit for women's motherly qualities. O f the twenty women in this sample, four attended Normal School, three were without a university degree before teacher training. These women taught in Vancouver. The regional difference may simply be the limited sample. One survey of the era suggested British Columbia secondary schools had the highest percentage of degree-bearing teachers than any other province. 3 7 8 While the report 134 does not cite how many o f these were women, the authors of the survey do make the correlation between British Columbia having the highest proportion of men teachers with the high percentage of credentials. The regional difference may also lie with the more academic bias of Toronto collegiate institutes. For a secondary school to obtain the title of collegiate institute, it had to have more than five members on staff with specialist certification that could not be obtained without a university degree. 3 7 9 Not unexpectedly, the Vancouver women who had trained for elementary schooling often understood themselves as 'less professional' in the eyes o f colleagues and administrators. Claire Anderson, a physical education instructor, did not identify herself nor speak in the first person when discussing the admirable qualities o f teachers during the post-war period. She asserted that almost all o f the people in her schools were professionals, •J O A "except me, they had their degrees and I mean how can you double that?" J 0 U Claire described her abilities, which she explained as not justifying an assessment as professional, as her love of children: "I just wanted each kid to have an experience of happiness with one another and sharing." Claire was among the many women who acknowledged the differential values accorded to academic and caring professionalism. Sophie Canning, who had received a Bachelor o f Physical Education from the University o f British Columbia, but also trained at Normal School, offered a similar reflection. She stopped a line of questioning about her education and said: "I want to say two things, I was never smart but I was always energetic." Throughout the interview, she described herself as unconcerned about her professional status. What really mattered most to her was the respect she earned as a disciplinarian, and as someone who cared enough to find out about her students. She was one of the few to speak at length about a student's personal needs, recounting a story in which she replaced shoes stolen from one of her students. Sophie actually credited her 135 elementary training for this response, "because the high school were a cold sort...become pompous I guess." Such a caricature appeared not to trouble those women purely trained for high school employment. They often perpetuated the association o f elementary teaching with mothering, firmly disassociating themselves from this while distinguishing themselves as stalwart professionals. Their focus on students' scholastic achievement matched the primary purpose o f the secondary school. Beth Merle o f Toronto explained that her choice between elementary and secondary teaching was easy: "I didn't want a class o f little kids in front of me. If I was going to do French it had to be secondary." 3 8 1 Fran Thompson, a specialist in English, stated: "I wanted to teach history . . . all high school teachers probably had the same thing; they loved their subject... never occurred to them that they had to know anything about their students." Fran and Beth's university credentials and location within traditional academic areas afforded them a better chance to disassociate themselves from the standing of 'caring professional.' While at times they expressed enjoyment about interactions with students, they purposefully set their mastery of subject matter in direct opposition to the values o f nurturing youth that were allied with 'female' elementary instructors. Some were self-conscious about the distinction they drew. Grace Logan, a Latin teacher in British Columbia, recalled the well-known stigma when she described being "horrified" when an inspector came to watch one of her lessons during a mandatory one week elementary practicum: " . . . he said to me had you ever thought of continuing in elementary education and I thought, he doesn't think I can do secondary . . . I was really, really quite disappointed . . . I never considered elementary." The necessity for these women to discriminate signaled opinions that had much less to do with the elementary sector per se, than perceptions o f the 'female' teacher in the post-136 war period. This becomes clearer considering that female staff in secondary schools were similarly constructed as less professionally competent and under-qualified. In particular, educators leveled suspicion on women who entered to address vacancies left by servicemen during W W I I and the growing teacher shortage in the late 1940s and '50s. According to a February 1946 survey by the Canada and Newfoundland Education Association, predecessor to the C E A , there were over 4,000 too few qualified teachers. 3 8 3 In 1952 the total shortage was estimated at 6,556, with increases to the decade's end. Teacher supply represented a national emergency, declared F.S. Rivers, Superintendent o f Professional Training in Ontario, and R . W . B . Jackson, Professor at the Ontario College of Education (OCE) , in their report for the journal o f the C E A . In Ontario the situation was most acute in rural areas and at the elementary level, but urban secondary schools also needed 200 more teachers annually within the decade than universities were expected to produce. 3 8 4 F . Henry Johnson, co-ordinator for teacher education for the British Columbia Department of Education at the time, told local newspapers that the province would be short 750 secondary school teachers by 1956. 3 8 5 Rivers and Jackson concluded that population change caused the shortfall. They predicted a near doubling of enrolment for 1(1/ all levels of schooling across the country from 1945 to 1960. The post-war baby boom occupied elementary classes, while secondary school increases were spurred by immigration and a general demand for higher education. Most provinces, including Ontario and British Columbia, adopted emergency, temporary measures to address the shortage. Many responses continued wartime policies, and were in place when the women interviewed here obtained their first teaching positions. Responses included the consolidation of schools and renaming teachers' colleges. More ambivalent initiatives included lowering entrance requirements for higher education and 137 shortening teacher training. Ontario and British Columbia Departments o f Education resorted to issuing a large number of temporary certificates or Letters of Permission, requiring only one year training after grade 13 and two short summer courses for those entering elementary schools, and similar crash summer courses and reduced practice teaching after a baccalaureate for secondary candidate. In 1947, British Columbia officials reported over 129 teachers in the junior/high school level on temporary 388 certificates. In Ontario, one in thirteen secondary teachers enrolled in summer courses when they were first offered at the O C E in 1954-55. 3 8 9 Provinces also initiated recruitment campaigns by way o f radio broadcasts, newspaper columns, booklets, and posters. While new candidates were sought, palliative measures were advertised to encourage the return of trained and experienced teachers who had retired or left teaching for other reasons, notably marriage or motherhood. 3 9 0 According to Wi l l i am Dunlop, Minister o f Education for Ontario, these strategies were effective. In 1952, he spread the good news that "by emergency measures, it has been possible to prepare, during the year, a sufficient number of teachers to ensure that no school was closed for lack of a teacher." Whi le the situation was not quite as rosy for British Columbia, particularly in the interior regions where schools were closed due to staff shortages, the Vancouver Board announced that temporary certification and teachers coming from the prairies and eastern Canada had solved the problem. 3 9 2 Women answered officials' calls for more teachers. Women's rates of participation, specifically older women who were married, grew during WWI I as they temporarily filled in for military personnel. A t their peak, women accounted for over 70 percent of the teaching force. Whi le their rates o f employment dropped to pre-war levels at the end o f WWII , the shortage of teachers allowed women's employment to reach near war-time rates by the mid-138 1950s. 3 9 3 Toronto Board o f Education Year Book statistics in 1954 show that 271 of the 754 secondary school teachers were women and 51 of that number were married. 3 9 4 Vancouver produced similar statistics: 246 of 755 secondary teachers, 68 married. Given the numerous and incommensurate levels o f certification for the two provinces during this period, it is difficult to ascertain the numbers who held temporary or under-qualified certification for the secondary level. One B C T F study on the specific qualifications o f married women teachers conducted early in the period and based on wartime emergency measures, similar to post-war initiatives, concluded that approximately 40 percent possessed 'second-rate' qualifications and were teaching only until necessity no longer dictated. 3 9 6 School officials nevertheless relied upon women's flexible labour and supported policy shifts and specific programs to entice them into the workforce. For example, in 1954, British Columbia's Department of Education began Future Teachers' Clubs in high schools. Although policy did not allocate these clubs by gender, Vancouver secondary schools' yearbooks show all-female clubs. Departments in both provinces embarked on teacher recruitment drives overseas, typically hiring women for pre-specified boards and under an assisted immigration scheme, who would otherwise be unable to afford such travel. Lastly, both Vancouver and Toronto Boards recruited women who had left the profession due to marriage. Toronto officials used the newspapers to recruit married teachers throughout the 1950s. Z .S . Phimister, Superintendent and Chief Inspector o f Schools, reported to The Globe and Mail that the Toronto Board would even lessen mandatory maternity leave for those "young women teachers supporting their husbands who are attending medical school or theological college." 3 9 9 Officials in British Columbia extolled the virtues o f married women, by announcing in their newsletter that without bringing them "back to the profession, even though they have been absent of years.. .there is no doubt that 139 chaos would have existed." Sheila L . Cavanagh argues that policies enticing married women into the profession cannot be purely seen as a triumph against gender discrimination. 4 0 1 Instead, women of the 'marrying' variety or who were married were hired as symbols o f society's heteronormativity. I explore this point in more detail in the chapter to follow on 'democratic' values o f the era. Broader policies supported recruitment endeavours for women teachers, and specifically the 'marrying-kind.' In 1944, Vancouver women who married after placement in a school gained 'security o f tenure,' and for Toronto women, an official bar to married women was lifted in 1946. 4 0 2 Women were often still expected to leave their jobs once pregnant. Furthermore, in 1951 the Ontario Teachers' Federation created a single salary schedule to base pay on qualifications, not gender. This policy was enacted in conjunction with the province's 1952 Female Employees' Fair Remuneration Act . Due to the leadership of Hi lda Cryderman and M o l l i e Cunningham in its executive, the B C T F adopted this policy in 1954; one year after it was enacted by the newly elected W . A . C . Bennett Social Credit government. 4 0 3 The B C T F had encouraged boards as early as the mid-1940s to remove overt sex differences, and most complied, with Vancouver reported as one o f the last to hold out . 4 0 4 Wage discrimination also continued as the majority of women teachers could not secure higher paying administrative positions in these ci t ies . 4 0 5 British Columbia statistics show that women's pay was approximately 56 percent o f men's in 1945. Although the disparity would drop, a 23 percent differential remained in 1954-55. 4 0 6 Post-war inducements enticed back four married interviewees who taught in Vancouver. Abigai l Sears remembered that originally after getting married "you knew you were out." She continued teaching because o f "an order in council in Victoria for me to be permitted to teach because I was married.. .the principal went to bat for me." Abigai l only 140 stayed six more months until she was pregnant with her first child. While most women did not refer to explicit policies, such as permits, they did remember pressure-filled requests to return to the teaching force from influential local administrators. Sadie Chow was adamant that after the birth o f each child she was not going to teach. Each time, however, she recalled a "phone campaign" from the Vancouver Board's home economics co-ordinator insisting that she come back to school. Sadie was convinced by this co-ordinator who stated "with your mind, you'd just sit home and vegetate.. .you know your children don't have the quantity of time with you but I am sure they have the quality because you always take them everywhere." Sadie's recollection indicates that while the barrier to married women working may have lessened, mothers still needed to justify their presence. In explaining her decision, Sadie insisted she was a reluctant participant, always found good child-care, and did not seek out the position. Her desire to rationalize returning to work is understandable given five of the seven teachers with offspring in this study described confrontations with male colleagues. Abigai l , for example, recalled a personal male friend encouraging her to send a teaching application after she had left teaching for her fourth child. After a long time without a response, Abigai l followed up by telephone. The male friend informed her at that point that "mother o f children should not be working; they should be in the home." After A l m a Erickson returned to teaching she remembered with some laughter that male teachers assumed she was inexperienced and treated her like a beginner. She described one man, a novice himself, having the nerve to tell her she should not be teaching since she was married with children. Although teachers' federation representatives, political officials and educational administrators in both Vancouver and Toronto encouraged women's participation in the public system, the women's stories indicate that they encountered intense scrutiny. 141 Similarly, political representatives asserted that the emergency programs they established, and to which women responded, produced minimally acceptable teachers for Canadian education. Herbert Edgar Smith, Dean of the Faculty o f Education at the University o f Alberta until 1955 and frequent contributor to professional journals, stated: " B y hopeful definition they are temporary measures, devious in detail, and all to be deplored...but Departments of Education have to face an electoral demand that classrooms be kept open and at least some kind of teacher provided for them." 4 0 7 Smith was correct that measures were temporary. When the shortage abated in the mid-1960s, British Columbia and Ontario Departments of Education scaled back teaching permits and elevated requirements for teacher training. 4 0 8 The problem for these school officials was that emergency programs supplied recruits, but did not relieve public concerns about professional standards. Temporary measures were viewed by many educators, particularly federation representatives, as exacerbating an on-going problem that afflicted the profession. Researchers asserted that a shortage was not simply the result o f an increased student population. The problem resided with individuals, particularly men, choosing either not to enter or to leave teaching. Many researchers and political officials stressed that the shortage was due to the profession's lack o f prestige. 4 0 9 B y implication, those teachers, primarily women, who were obtaining positions at the secondary level in increasingly larger numbers during the period, were 'second-best' additions to a profession that could not retain or recruit men. Given this context, some women's stories were marked by moments of embarrassment. Such emotion was poignant for Marion Hayes, a Toronto collegiate institute teacher in history and English. Despite a degree in hand, she reluctantly, and in hushed tones, admitted that she did not take the regular one-year O C E course, but was one o f 142 the teachers who worked while taking two summer sessions. She whispered: "I'm actually one of the few people and not many of my friends know about this.. .I'm one who did it in the summer. They needed more teachers and there was a twelve week course and then about five weeks to follow it up." 4 1 0 Marion may have been unusual among the Hog Town group. Three Vancouver women disclosed either taking crash summer courses or receiving temporary certification prior to formal training. These teachers described themselves as at the mercy of administrators who sent them to remote locations with extremely bad working conditions. Even more, their positions were not secure and their certification was non-renewable without the personal recommendation of their local board or inspectors. When speaking of her first teaching post in a mining town in 1949, British Columbia's Sadie Chow explained that she was "granted an elementary temporary teaching certificate for one year.. .it was the lowest form.. . i f you looked at the conditions you wouldn't want to renew it." She went onto say that she wished for a husband to take her away from such a workforce. Claire Anderson painted a much happier picture of her early rural positions. At the same time, she noted that atop male administrator at her Normal School simply told her where she was needed and she went. The result was two rather isolated schools, and then a technical school outside of Vancouver, all of which were described as being 'problem' locations and at which she was not initially given her subject area to teach. Although these women were filling teaching positions at a time when the 'democratization' of schooling opportunities relied on their labour, they did not count on appropriate praise or compensation. These stories reveal that women's inferior status was not simply a matter of qualifications, but reflected women's position as part a flexible, reserve army of labour for the public education system. Many male administrators in fact questioned the motives of 143 female careerists, claiming that their 'natural' inclination was and should be full-time marriage and motherhood. J.D. Aikenhead, professor of education at the University o f Alberta in Calgary and a specialist in school administration, undertook national research on why individuals entered or returned to the profession. He argued that opportunities were open for women interested in Canada's survival to improve the learning o f children and youth in their communities. Aikenhead acknowledged that "more women than men had returned" to teaching. 4 1 1 He asserted that women's reasons, however, reflected simply a public extension of their propensity for private nurturing. They entered the system, he contended, not for a steady wage, but due to their "fondness for children, a l iking for colleagues, and a desire to serve society." 4 1 2 Aikenhead reassured public officials that women were not planning to become a permanent presence in secondary schools: they did not view teaching either as a l iving wage or a career in the same way as men. His incorrect assumption, based on the middle-class, nuclear family ideal of the period, was that all women desired marriage and support by breadwinning husbands. Intellectualism or career goals were not contemplated as reasons for women's place in the post-war secondary school. Within this study, however, over half of the women interviewed did not marry and many provided financial support to parents. O f those who did marry, some spoke of financial necessity due to husbands' illness or loss o f business. 4 1 3 Regardless o f economic necessity, many women simply viewed teaching as one o f the only accessible avenues o f work in which they could apply their education. When asked i f she knew before entering university that she wanted to be a teacher, Beverley Hurst stated: "Education was important. I was good at languages and there weren't that many things you could do in that day and age. I wasn't going to be a nurse and I didn't think I wanted to be a secretary particularly . . . teaching was a good thing to do with my courses." 4 1 4 Others spoke o f teaching as a long 144 term career option, because they could continue to work while married. Melanie Kilburn explained entering teaching, instead of medicine in which she was most interested, knowing that her long years of undergraduate school would not go to waste when she married. She explained: "It was either you had a career that would fit in with marriage and children or i f you were going to go through this long training then you would always be full time [as a mother]. N o w how did that fit in?" Most officials ignored such women's desires for remuneration and service. The recruitment of men, however, was viewed more realistically. Aikenhead, for example, argued that men were not becoming teachers because o f a lack of prestige, "slow promotions, few well-paid top positions, and low salaries." 4 1 5 Freelance journalist M a x Braithwaite voiced his opinion that "the really alarming fact is that the average male teacher stays in the profession only eight years." 4 1 6 Improved salaries were perhaps the most common recruitment measure. Percy Muir , secretary o f the Ontario School Trustees Council , told the Canadian School Trustees' Association: "We get a large number o f capable women teachers but we are not getting the men. A n appropriate salary for a single girl is not adequate for a man and family. But there's not much we can do about it. The law says we must pay an equal salary to women." 4 1 7 Salaries did steadily increase after the war. Pay for secondary school teachers in Ontario doubled from 1945 to 1960, and had improved substantially in western provinces. 4 1 8 George Roberts, past president of the O S S T F and O T F , argued that salaries were getting so much better that teaching was competing for men's employment with the field of engineering. He optimistically stated: "In 1958 Toronto hired some 40 university engineering graduates, gave them summer courses in pedagogy and sent them into high schools." 4 1 9 In this instance, crash courses in teach training were not problematic. This different assessment occurred for the same reason that the Toronto branch 145 of the O S S T F campaigning against a uniform salary payment for elementary and secondary teachers, regardless o f sex; men as breadwinners were priorities in the public institution of the school and thus had a right to a higher salary. 4 2 0 The male president of the Toronto branch was cited in the September 25, 1952, issue of the Telegram as objecting because i secondary school teachers were losing their right to bargain independently of the less-prestigious women-dominated elementary affiliates. 4 2 1 While the same kind of campaign would not be made by the B C T F , perhaps as a result of a strong female presence on their executive, that province's male administrators made similar comments about the preference and rightful place o f men in secondary schools. Women acknowledged that they were expected to step aside in deference to men. A l m a Erickson of Vancouver got her first job teaching because o f the war; she then lost it when servicemen returned. She said: "they [school officials] figured they [women] should be released to let men have the jobs so that's that." A l m a explained that she worked happily for years as a substitute secondary teacher until her husband became seriously i l l and she had to support their family. Alma , like many women, accepted men's priority as a moral imperative given their status as soldiers and breadwinners. This was certainly the rationale for Mur ie l Fraser o f Toronto who passed on a promotion so that a married man would receive advancement. Mur ie l recounted: "there was a chance to go to [a Toronto secondary school] and again I turned it down because there was a fellow in the French department who was married with a family and I knew that i f I didn't take it, he would get it." Murie l ' s narrative is particularly revealing because she saw no contradiction in her belief that married men were entitled to career advancements, while both her parents were financially dependent on her throughout much o f the 1950s. Nonetheless, her story expressed what was rarely 146 openly spoken by the interviewees; men fulfilled the ideals of the 'good' teacher and women had to show they were up to the tasks. O f course, few officials during this era o f popular egalitarianism explicitly declared for public consumption that it was men who were preferred for secondary schools, and not simply those teachers with the best credentials. In a rare, revealing statement, Charles Ovans, general secretary for the B C T F in the 1950s, admitted: "Given a choice in anything above primary grades, a school w i l l take a man to a woman." 4 2 2 School officials asserted that men were collectively more attractive because they obtained more advanced degrees and dominated the seemingly more 'intellectually' rigorous subjects of mathematics and science that were in high demand during the period. Men, therefore, could provide rationally sound instruction for youth to become professional leaders for the nation's secure and prosperous 'democratic' future, in which science, as in the space race, would be critical. Women, in contrast, were framed by educational discourse as unable to fulfill this primary 'democratic' objective. A s a result, they were vulnerable to accusations o f undermining teacher professionalism and the public's faith in schooling. Officials and others feared, or perhaps hoped, that female 'propensities' for home and motherhood as a primary obligation encouraged reduced commitment to the world outside the home, notably the noble vocation of teaching. This is particularly evident in information available from British Columbia and Ontario teacher's federations. They expressed concerns to their membership and the public through newspaper columns that women were 'unethical,' 'unfair' and 'unprofessional'; comments that struck at the heart o f an occupation that was valued for its fulfillment of educational 'democracy.' The O T F , created by The Teaching Profession Act of 1944 amalgamating all existing teacher associations under an umbrella organization as a means of raising the overall status 147 of the profession feared the influence o f female recruits. Although policies, like short summer courses, the lack o f unified contracts, and low salaries were discussed for lowering the prestige o f teachers, it was women, single and working before marriage, married, and mothers, who were regularly identified as the weak link in the quest for professional recognition. 4 2 4 Such beliefs were not restricted to male members o f the OSSTF . Eileen Gladman, female Chairman [sic] of the O T F ' s Relations and Discipline Committee, pinpointed the problem as women's inability to separate personal and public interests. In an article published in the M a y 1959 issue o f The Bulletin, she explained: "Many times, too, a woman teacher accepts without question the idea that family responsibilities of any kind come before the fulfillment of the contract she has entered into as a teacher. Whatever may be the motive let us stress the ethical and professional importance." 4 2 5 Contemporary historian Sandra Gaskell provides the most extensive examination o f women's supposed offences. Women were incriminated as undedicated because o f the general belief that teaching was not a career for them, but, rather, a short job between school and marriage. 4 2 6 They were simply working for luxuries, unlike male teachers who considered family breadwinners. Regarded as transient workers, federations accused them of willingness to accept positions outside o f union contracts and, most abhorrently, of underbidding men for positions by accepting reduced money or benefits. 4 2 7 With such allegations on hand, many men in the federation readily dismissed their female colleagues, 49 R with little interest obtaining greater pensions or administrative positions. Throughout the late 1940s and '50s the B C T F made similar complaints. In a February 1955 column entitled "Some Ethical Considerations," appearing that same month in the local paper, the editor of The B. C. Teacher appealed on behalf of the federation to "all married women teachers, and to single teachers about to be married, to be considerate and 148 fair." The article began by extolling the 'democratic' changes to the education system since the Depression years regarding married women, to the point that school boards admit married women are among their very best teachers. The editor noted that despite demonstrating a professional outlook comparable to single women, these same school boards now had complaints. In particular, school boards were "fed up" with women abusing leaves of absences to be married in the middle of term and accepting positions knowing they were pregnant and would have to be replaced. 4 3 0 He was not alone in his reservations. According to Vancouver School Board committee reports and other regular newsletter columns on the subject of women teacher, male inspectors, superintendents, and principals were appalled that women might teach to earn 'pocket' money until marriage, take time off for unsanctioned domestic reasons, and shirk their extra-curricular duties and other special assignment for work at home. 4 3 1 The marrying woman, who had been newly 'welcomed' into the school, was now under surveillance for not being able to let go of her domesticity for professional life. The editorial warned that unless women dealt with these issues fairly "they will not only be acting unprofessionally as individuals but they will be creating a condition which will tempt school boards to return to policies against the employment of married women teachers."4 3 2 Another column was even more stern, warning about the federation's position: without written consent from administrators before taking leave for marriage, women were in breach of the Code of Ethics and would be brought before the Executive to be "severely dealt with." 4 3 3 While few women faced dismissal as a result of these indictments, it is clear that federations in both provinces defined women, and not society's sexist view of women's role or women's limited opportunities within educational 'democracy,' as the culprit in retarding the status of the profession. 149 Not surprisingly, no interviewee acknowledged accusations o f unethical professional practice on their part or on the part of their female colleagues. A number insisted, however, that women were often more ethical than their male counterparts. They referred to men as "cheaters" when they attained superior results to women teachers from their students. Donna Weber, who taught physical education in Vancouver, noted that men were successful coaches at her school because the "boys were taught to cheat," what she deemed as fouling in order to win the game. Her philosophy was that " i f you couldn't stop them properly without breaking the rules then you didn't deserve to win the game." A l m a Erickson, also of Vancouver, repeatedly spoke of men who were determined to do better and cheated by "practically teaching the exam." She argued that the male head of department would often set the exam so his students got the best results. Knowing that her students were 'bright,' she insisted that examinations be set for all classes. While these stories target male teachers' unethical actions, they also solidify these women's ethical competency as teachers in this era. Women's relative silence, as noted previously, on most discussions o f their association with 'feminine' attributes, such as motherhood, nurturing and emotionality, may also signal their defense against accusations that they could not put personal interests aside for their work. On the rare occasion that interviewees did voluntarily and directly speak to the issue of care-giving for their students, the women actually spoke of such actions in unethical or inappropriate terms. When asked as a physical education teacher i f she had a counselling role for students, Jessie Russell responded: "no I didn't, but some teachers did... .1 didn't get into that because it's wrong.. .1 was the teacher, they're the student, I 'm not your counsellor or your mother that you're gonna come to and talk to me about your boyfriend." 4 3 4 Jessie continued by noting a fellow teacher who often had students in her 150 office to talk, which she found objectionable. Similarly, Ellen Stewart recalled students acknowledging her effective teaching because she kept an appropriate distance. The students talking about another teacher had mentioned to Ellen about "how awful it was that there were high school teachers who forged this close personal relationship and how very damaging it was ." 4 3 5 Grace Logan o f Vancouver, at one point in her interview, suggested that her classroom worked "beautifully" because "when you came into my room it's like you're coming into my home." When following up on her metaphor o f a home, Grace immediately retracted her previous description and stated that the school was not a family environment and she was not nurturing o f the students. Rather, she asserted, this type of environment was "proper . . . a great disciplinary feature." For Sophie Canning, the gendered sanctions associated with 'feminine' capabilities or an emotional attachment to students had a more ominous implication. Sophie is a lesbian who was not out during this period in her life. She states: "I would not tolerate it; [homosexuality] was a terrible word." Sophie would not tolerate discussion of her sexuality because society was intolerant. She recognized that i f her sexuality was revealed, then she would have been fired from her job teaching physical education to girls. She recounted a story, at length, regarding a female student who "idolized" her and invited her to come with her family for an outing one weekend. Sophie refused the girl 's offer and explained to her that she was only her teacher Monday to Friday. She recalled: "her [the student's] face fell but that.. .you know it was times like that I was lucky that I was able to keep it that way and you know what I mean.. .you had to watch that nothing got affectionate." Sophie's oral history enables a clearer understanding not only o f women's abilities to call upon a distanced professional image, but the implication of losing their appearance as that sort of 'good' teacher. For Sophie it was a necessity for her very livelihood. Still more than the other 151 teachers here, she felt confined by codes of heterosexuality that emphasized difference and women's problematic professionalism. Her narrative, similar to the other women's oral histories, was rife with professional landmines that resulted from assumptions regarding her 'naturally' nurturing femininity and illogical capabilities for knowledge production. The response o f these women to inferior positioning within post-war educational 'democracy' demonstrates that there were no ready, simple solutions for their equality. A s Emma Rich reflects from her work on women in England's teacher training programs for physical education: "there is no simple materiality, no correct behaviour which these women can unequivocally achieve." 4 3 6 She remarks: "Their inclusion in their profession is contradictory, by mere virtue o f the fact that as women they remain subordinates in a dominant Gender Order which underpins the dominant educational discourses." 4 3 7 Illuminating the struggling professional portrait o f women teachers in post-war education, therefore, is not to suggest that women did not attain or lacked the attributes of the 'good' teacher. Rather their narratives illustrate the discursive and practical means by which they made sense o f their teaching selves. Caught in an essentialist double bind of professionalism equating to dominant masculinity, the women's narratives marked the apprehensions they experienced in fulfilling post-war objectives emulating and producing the rational 'democratic' citizen. Throughout the interviews the women spoke of their need to prove they had a place within the public secondary school system as professionals; a status allotted more easily to men by virtue of their sex. Their identity as professional teachers was less tenuous, according to the women, i f they presented themselves as detached, knowledgeable scholars who could produce intellectual leaders o f the nation. Given women's various educational backgrounds, teaching subjects and social locations, their narratives do not reify 152 an essentialist binary of professionalism. Rather, the women teachers were positioned both by themselves and by school officials across uncomfortable gender differences. The image of teacher as subject expert and thus rational citizen was much easier to construct for women who were single, with advanced university degrees, and who taught in academic-oriented subjects and regions. For other women teachers, the grip on a scholarly identity and professional recognition was even more tenuous, as they acknowledged holding an inferior position in teaching due to such factors as motherhood, elementary training and the type of school setting. While the women's narratives demonstrate that they were unable to completely resist or alter masculinist conceptions of the modern teacher, they nonetheless asserted their ability to embody professionalism. Each maintained that a great teacher could be a woman of sound scholarship. The women admitted their struggles, however, in gaining recognition as 'good' teachers: they were handicapped by the competing and multiple frameworks that identified them personally, socially and occupationally as less professional. Their narratives of post-war Canada provide proof of the contention of feminist political and social theorists that liberal democratic discourse offers professional autonomy in seemingly androgynous form, while perpetuating a gender dualism that restricts women teachers' access and 'capability' for professional and 'democratic' knowledge. Yet i f women were precluded from equality with men, they might offer something different. The following chapter addresses, as feminist theorists of teacher identity have argued, the role for women teachers as moral vessels for a democratic order, rather than knowledge-bearers for democratic citizenship. 153 3 2 2 See, for example, Arnot and Dillabough, "Feminist Politics and Democratic Values in Education"; Walkerdine and Lucey, Democracy in the Kitchen; Madeleine Arnot, Reproducing Gender: Essays on educational theory and feminist politics (London: Routledge, 2002); Kathleen Weiler, Women Teaching for Change (South Hadley, M A : Bergin & Garvey, 1988). 3 2 3 Diana Coole, Women in Political Theory: from ancient misogyny to contemporary feminism (Hertfordshire: Hearvester, Wheatsheaf: 1993), 18. 3 2 4 Lorene M . G . Clark, "The rights o f women: the theory and practice o f the ideology o f male supremacy," in Contemporary Issues in Political Philosophy, ed. W . R . Shea and J.King-Farlow (New York : Science History Publication, 1976), as cited by Dillabough, "Gender, Politics and Conceptions o f the Modern Teacher," 377. 3 2 5 Pateman, The Sexual Contract; Pateman, The disorder of women. 3 2 6 Dillabough, "Gender, Politics and Conceptions o f the Modern Teacher," 373-394. 3 2 7 Ibid., 380. See Walkerdine and Lucey, Democracy in the Kitchen, 200. 3 2 8 Kathleen Casey, "Teacher as mother: curriculum theorizing in the life histories o f contemporary women teachers," Cambridge Journal of Education 20 (1990): 301-320. 3 2 9 Dillabough, "Gender, Politics and Conceptions o f the Modern Teacher," 381. 3 3 0 Ibid., 375. Dillabough expresses similar qualities when exploring the masculinist conception of the modern teacher. 3 3 1 Ibid., 379. Dillabough calls on historians to examine the contradictory position o f women teachers' inclusion in the teaching profession. 3 3 2 A l i son Weir, Sacrificial Logics: feminist theory and the critique of identity (New York : Routledge, 1997), 66. 3 3 3 Althouse, Addresses, 61. 3 3 4 Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 53-73. 335 336 Newnham and Nease, The Professional Teacher in Ontario, 8. Ibid., 8; Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 54-59. 3 3 7 Coulter, "Getting Things Done," 686. See Donalda J. Dickie , The Enterprise in Theory and Practice (Toronto: W . J . Gage, 1940). 3 3 8 Donalda J. Dickie , The Great Adventure: An Illustrated History of Canada for Young Canadians (Toronto: J . M . Dent, 1950), as quoted by Coulter, "Getting Things Done," 689. For more information on the development and strands o f progressive movement in Alberta, see, R .S . Patterson, "Progressive Education: Impetus to Educational Change in Alberta and Saskatchewan," in Education in Canada: An Interpretation, ed. E . B . Titley and P.J. M i l l e r (Calgary: Detselig, 1982), 169-192; 154 Amy von Heyking, "Selling Progressive Education to Albertans, 1935-1953," Historical Studies in Education 10, no.l and 2 (1998): 67-84. 3 3 9 F.J. McNamara, "Teaching: The Unique Profession," The Bulletin, September 1959, 242. 3 4 0 J.L. Ord, "The Qualities of a Good Teacher," The Bulletin, September 1959, 199-200 and 238. 341 Edgar Dale, "The Education of Teachers," The B.C. Teacher, April 1959, 249-350. 3 4 2 Dale, "The Education of Teachers," 350. Even though women comprised three-quarters of the teaching force across Canada, the generic teacher was always referred to with the male pronoun. See Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy," 114. She noted that in 1951 women were 73 percent and men were 28 percent of the teaching workforce in the country. This would change by 1971 when women were 66 percent and men 34 percent. 3 4 3 Newnham and Nease, The Professional Teacher in Ontario, 8. 3 4 4 Neatby, A Temperate Dispute, 54-59. 3 4 5 McNamara, "Teaching: A Unique Profession," 241. 3 4 6 Neville Scarfe, "The Aims of Education in a Free Society," The Second Canadian Conference on Education: A Report, ed. F.W. Price (Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1962), 69. The emphasis is mine. 3 4 7 Ibid., 71. 3 4 8 Sidney Katz, "Part 1 - The Teachers," Maclean's Magazine, 1 March 1953, 9. 3 4 9 Interview with Donna Weber (pseudonym), conducted on May 22 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 5 0 Interview with Catharine Darby (pseudonym), conducted on May 19 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 5 1 Interview with Phoebe McKenzie (pseudonym), conducted on November 16 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 3 5 2 Interview with Abigail Sears (pseudonym), conducted on May 17 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 5 3 Interview with Karen Phillips (pseudonym), conducted on November 26 2001 in Toronto, Ontario; Interview with Melanie Kilburn (pseudonym), conducted on January 21 2002 in Toronto, Ontario. 3 5 4 Interview with Sophie Canning (pseudonym), conducted on September 17 2005 on Vancouver Island, British Columbia. 3 5 5 Gidney, From Hope to Harris, 11; Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism, 60. 155 3 5 6 Interview with June West (pseudonym), conducted on December 7 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 3 5 7 Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy," 106-107. 3 5 8 Ibid. 3 5 9 Similar stories were told by Toronto interviewees. See, for example, Interview with Muriel Fraser (pseudonym), conducted on December 1 2001 in Toronto, Ontario; Interview with Karen Phillips; Interview with Elizabeth MacKay (pseudonym), conducted on November 14 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 3 6 0 Interview with Sadie Chow (pseudonym), conducted on September 16 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 6 1 Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy," 103. See, also, H.E. Smith, "Teacher Training," in Canadian Education Today: A Symposium, ed. J. Katz (Toronto: McGraw-Hill, 1956); Newnham and Nease, The Professional Teacher in Ontario, 38-59. They speak to the specific paths to certification for all levels of teachers in Ontario; Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 209-223. He outlines the certification requirements for British Columbia teachers. 3 6 2 Interview with Alma Erickson (pseudonym), conducted on September 15 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 363 364 Interview with Beth Merle (pseudonym), conducted on November 23 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. Interview with Grace Logan (pseudonym), conducted on September 19 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 6 5 Sheila L. Cavanagh argues that the 'official' elimination of the marriage bar in the mid-1940s was not necessarily a 'triumph' for women teachers. They still encountered school officials' imposition of 'traditional' family values. I explore this issue in more detail in chapter four. See Sheila L. Cavanagh, "The Heterosexualization of the Ontario Woman Teacher in the Postwar Period." 3 6 6 Sandra Acker, Gendered Education: sociological reflections on women, teaching and feminism (Buckingham: Open University Press, 1994). 3 6 7 Emma Rich, "Gender Positioning in Teacher Education in England: new rhetoric, old realities," International Studies in Sociology of Education 11, no.2 (2001): 137; C. Davies, "The Sociology of Professions and the Profession of Gender," Sociology 30 (1996):672. 368 JDSBA., Year Book, 1954; CVA, Public School Records, Vancouver Personnel and Research Subject Files, Loc. 59-A-l, File 18, "Calculations of Married Women on Staff, School Term 1956-1957," 1957. 3 6 9 Canadian Education Association, Committee on the Status of the Teaching Profession (Chairman M.E. Lazerte), Report on the Status of the Teaching Profession (Toronto: Canadian Education Association, 1949); M.E. LaZerte, Teacher Education in Canada (Toronto: W.J. Gage Limited, 1950). His work was cited by teacher federations in both Vancouver and Toronto. 156 LaZerte, Teacher Education in Canada, as cited by L . John Prior, "Teaching and Professionalism," The B.C. Teacher, November 1959. 3 7 1 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 221-222. 3 7 2 Smith, "Teacher Training," 166. 3 7 3 Ontario Archives, "Teacher Training," Lessons Learned: The Evolution of Education in Ontario, http://www.archives.gov.on.ca/english/exhibits/education/teachers.htm. See, for more information, Department of Education, Teacher Education Branch Records, R G 32-19, 1945-1960. 3 7 4 G.A. Hickman, "The Preparation of Teachers," Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 2, 1956-1958 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1959), 49-52. 3 7 5 Ibid., 49-50. 3 7 6 Ibid., 51. 3 7 7 Ibid., 50. 3 7 8 Government of Canada, Survey of Elementary and Secondary Education, (Ottawa: Dominion Bureau of Statistics), 1958-1963, as cited by "Education 1959" The B.C. Teacher (May-June 1959), 388. 379 Newnham and Nease, The Professional Teacher in Ontario, 38-59. 3 8 0 Interview with Claire Anderson (pseudonym), conducted on May 13 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 3 8 1 Beth probably did not have the opportunity to teach French at the elementary level because it was not a major part of the curriculum. Despite this fact, however, she argues that it was her choice not to teach younger children. 3 8 2 Interview with Fran Thompson (pseudonym), conducted on November 20 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 3 8 3 Max Braithwaite, "Why Teachers Quit," Maclean's Magazine, 1 January 1947. 3 8 4 F.S. Rivers and R.W.B. Jackson, "Teacher Supply in Canada," Canadian Education, Volume VIII (June 1953): 20. See, also, W.G. Fleming, Estimates of Teacher Supply and Demand in Ontairo Secondary Schools for 1957-1972, Education Research Series, Number 3, The Department of Educational Research, Ontario College of Education (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1956). 3 8 5 "Next Year - B.C. Short of Teachers by 1,700," Vancouver Sun, 5 March 1955. 386 Rivers and Jackson, "Teacher Supply in Canada," 10. 3 8 7 Smith, "Teacher Training," 168; French, High Button Bootstraps, 142; Stamp, The Schools of Ontario, 199. 157 388 < 389 'Amount of B.C. Teachers Not Qualified for Positions," Vancouver Sun, 21 February 21,1947. Many Teachers Take Summer Courses," The Bulletin, September 1954, 165. Although they do not provide the breakdown by gender, one can assume that women were the majority since it was mostly women who responded to the shortage. Furthermore, men had a higher rate of university graduation and programs for veterans supported their higher education. 3 9 0 Smith, "Teacher Training," 168. 3 9 1 Province of Ontario, Department of Education, Report of the Minister of Education (Toronto: King's Printer, 1952), as quoted by Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism, 157. 392 393 'B .C. Teachers Not Qualified for Positions," Vancouver Sun, 21 February 1947. The employment of women teachers was similar to national trends in which women's participation in paid labour reached over 30 percent, with over half married, which was the highest percentage than any previous peacetime. See, for example, Strong-Boag, "Canada's Wage-Earning Wives," 7. 3 9 4 TDSBA, Year Book, 1954, 12. 3 9 5 C V A , Public School Records, Vancouver Personnel and Research Subject Files, Loc. 59-A- l , File 18, "Calculations of Married Women on Staff, School Term 1956-1957," 1957. These statistics are not exact as many women would not denote themselves as Miss or Mrs and instead used initials. Furthermore, it is believed that many women did not reveal to the board that they were married because it would affect their employment status. Thus, the records are low estimates of the number of women single and married who worked in Toronto and Vancouver at the time. The fact that education officials were specifically recording the numbers of married women teacher speaks to their uneasy inclusion into the profession. For more on the position of married women teacher in British Columbia, see, Stella Shopland, Status of Married Women Teachers in the Province of British Columbia (M.A. Thesis: University of Washington, 1957). 3 9 6 "Married Women Teacher Survey," The B.C. Teacher, March 1946, 206. For more information on the informal segregation of men and women in teacher education at the Ontario College Education, see, Reynolds, "Hegemony and Hierarchy," 103-105. 3 9 7 Johnson, A History of Public Education in British Columbia, 219. 3 9 8 Ibid. Globe and Mail, 23 January 1959. 4 0 0 "What We Said," The B. C Teacher, September-October 1959,14. 4 0 1 Cavanagh, "The Heterosexualization of the Ontario Woman Teacher," 65-69; Cavanagh, "Female-Teacher Gender and Sexuality in Twentieth-Century Ontario, Canada," 113-134. 4 0 2 Staton and Light, Speak with their own voices, 143-144; C V A , Public School Records, Vancouver Personnel and Research Subject Files, Loc. 59-A- l , File 18, "Report to Personnel Committee, 158 Feburary 7th 1955, Status of Married Women as Teachers," 1955. Furthermore, in British Columbia women's mandatory retirement age of 60 was revised to equal that of men at age 65. 403 Punham Khosla, Laura King and Linda Read, The Unrecognized Majority: A History of Women Teachers in British Columbia (BCTF: Status of Women Committee in British Columbia, 1979). 4 0 4 Ibid., 40. 4 0 5 Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism, 31-32. 4 0 6 Khoslad, King and Read, The Unrecognized Majority, 40. They show that in 1945 men were paid $2118 and women were paid $1361. By 1954-55 the pay for men was $4136 and for women $3362. 4 0 7 Smith, "Teacher Training," 168 4 0 8 Johnson, A Brief History of Canadian Education, 164. 4 0 9 J.D. Aikenhead, "Research on the Teacher Shortage," Education: A Collection of Essays on Canadian Education, Volume 2, 1956-1958 (Toronto: W.J. Gage, 1959), 37-39. 410 Interview with Marion Hayes (pseudonym), conducted on November 27 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 4 1 1 Aikenhead, "Research on Teacher Shortage," 38. Cecilia Reynolds argues that teaching became an increasingly acceptable job for a man, probably in part due to the increasing credentials of the profession. Men in teaching labour force actually steadily increased after 1921. Reynolds notes, however, that this mostly took place in the rapidly expanding administration level and not as teachers. In 1940, approximately twenty percent of the secondary staff was assigned to manage and by 1980 this number was almost 50 percent. See Reynolds, "Hierarchy and Hegemony," 98-99. I discuss the gender distinction between workers and managers in chapter five. 4 1 2 Aikenhead, "Research on Teacher Shortage," 38. 4 1 3 See, for example, Interview with Sadie Chow; Interview with Alma Erickson. 4 1 4 Interview with Beverley Hurst (pseudonym), conducted on December 14 2001 in Toronto, Ontario. 4 1 5 Aikenhead, "Research on Teacher Shortage," 37-38. 4 1 6 Braithwaite, "Why Teachers Quit," 10. 4 1 7 Aileen Campbell, "Pay Equality Hurts School," The Province, 22 September 1958. 4 1 8 Roberts, "What's Wrong with Our Teachers?," 394. 419 Ibid. 4 2 0 Mary Labbatt, Always a Journey: a history of the Federation of Women Teachers' Associations of Ontario, 1918-1993 (Toronto: Federation of Women Teachers' Associations of Ontario, 1993), 46-51. 159 4 2 1 "Patrick McGivney Toronto Head Teachers' Federation," Telegram, 25 September 1952. Other articles include: Robert Adams, "Teachers Opposing Plan For Uniform Salaries in Metro," Toronto Daily Star, 17 January 1959; "Teachers Resent Uniform Pay Plan Boycott Meeting," Toronto Daily Star, 29 January 1959. 4 2 2 "Board won't pay more pence, marriage's but indulgence," The Province, 14 February 1957. 4 2 3 Gaskell, The Problems and Professionalism, 36. 424 Ibid., 37-38. 4 2 5 Eileen Gladman, "Problems in Professional Conduct," The Bulletin, May 1959, 145. Gladman demonstrates through her authoritative position with the OTF that women were not simply regulated, but themselves part of the regulation of others' professional behaviour. 4 2 6 Gaskell, 77ze Problems and Professionalism, 32. 4 2 7 Ibid., 38-39. • 428 Ibid., 41-42. 4 2 9 "Some Ethical Considerations," The B.C. Teacher, February 1955, 199; "Married Women Teachers Urged To Be 'Fair," News Herald, 26 February 26, 1955. . 4 3 0 Ibid. 4 3 1 C V A , Public School Records, Minutes of School Principals' Meetings, Loc. 74-A-6, "Reports on Teachers, Public Relations and Leaves of Absences," February 12, 1959; C V A , Public School Records, Minutes of School Principals' Meetings, Loc. 74-A-6, "Married Women and Extra-curricular Activities," May 28, 1959; "Hints to Job-Seekers," The B.C. Teacher, May-June 1951, 333; "Recruitment and Selection of Teachers," The B.C. Teacher, November 1952, 61; "Teachers Told Not To Quit Classrooms for Honeymoons," Vancouver Sun, 29 April 1952. 4 3 2 "Some Ethical Considerations," The B. C. Teacher, February 1955, 199. 4 3 3 "Hints to Job-Seekers," The B.C. Teacher, May-June, 1951, 333. 4 3 4 Interview with Jessie Russell (pseudonym), conducted on September 16 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 4 3 5 Interview with Ellen Stewart (pseudonym), conducted on September 13 2005 in Vancouver, British Columbia. 4 3 6 Rich, "Gender Positioning in Teacher Education," 145. 4 3 7 Ibid. 160 Chapter 4 Performing Post-war Citizenship: Moral 'Democracy' and the 'Woman' Teacher 4 3 8 The 'woman' teacher of post-WWII secondary schools was situated as the moral gatekeeper for 'democratic' citizenship. Feminist theorists argue that within liberal democratic discourse women are collectively celebrated as daughters of the state, guardians of the nation and cultivators of citizenship. 4 3 9 In theory, women are reproductive, benevolent actors or virtuous beings. 4 4 0 Unlike the explicit conflict between 'democratic' knowledge and women's 'natural' abilities, no such tension arises for their role as cultural benefactors. Instead, as Madeleine Arnot and Jo-Anne Dillabough describe, women are the keepers, cultivators and symbols of democracy. 4 4 1 Without claims to rationality, and thus formal political agency for the production of'democracy,' women serve in effect to uphold democratic citizenship and the state itself. While women are critical to the enterprise, nationalist rhetoric privileges male-based hierarchies and suppresses awareness of gender located on the margins. Valerie Walkerdine and Helen Lucey argue that this discourse, in Foucauldian terms, is a non-coercive, but deeply conservative strategy because "women of all classes have been placed as guardians of an order which is too difficult to escape." 4 4 2 Women teachers in particular, they explain, are given the
UBC Theses and Dissertations
In the name of democracy : the work of women teachers in Toronto and Vancouver, 1945-1960 Llewellyn, Kristina R. 2006
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