Abstract
This study explored the relation between classroom interactions and exclusionary school discipline practices within and across four classrooms in a disciplinary alternative school. Critical social practice theory and critical microethnographic methodology supported the examination, interpretation, and analysis of interactive power to illuminate ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices. Data showed that exclusionary school discipline practices are mediated through power relations with insights into and implications for transforming exclusionary school discipline practices found in teachers’ discipline goals, ideology, and views of culture.
Keywords
Since the Children’s Defense Fund (1975) research on school suspension, studies have consistently documented disproportional representation of students from nondominant racial backgrounds, particularly African American (and more recently Latino) males, in exclusionary school discipline practices. Exclusionary school discipline practices include students’ removal from classrooms and subsequent suspension or expulsion from school (National Center for Education Statistics, 2010; Skiba et al., 2011; Skiba, Michael, Nardo, & Peterson, 2000). Students who have been suspended or expelled are more likely to attend disciplinary alternative schools, repeat a grade, drop out, and become involved in the juvenile justice system, or school-to-prison pipeline (Office of Juvenile Justice Delinquency Prevention, 2012; Wald & Losen, 2003).
Disproportionality increases as students move from referral to expulsion, detention, and state prison (Florida Department of Juvenile Justice, 2007). African Americans comprise 15% of the juvenile population, 26% of juvenile arrests, 44% of juvenile detentions, 46% of youth sent to adult court, and 58% of youth sent to state prisons. African Americans comprise 27% of all dropouts; 52% of African American male dropouts have been incarcerated by age 30 (NCES, 2010). The ultimate exclusionary school discipline consequence is isolation and segregation from dominant, or mainstream, educational, and societal opportunities. Due to its disproportional negative impact on students from nondominant racial backgrounds, exclusionary school discipline is considered an oppressive educational practice and condition (Fine, 1991; Kozol, 2005; Weis & Fine, 2005).
Literature Review
In urban contexts, teachers’ heightened concern with disruptive behavior often takes precedence over learning due to misunderstandings or conflicting expectations about appropriate classroom behavior. A plethora of urban education literature provides insights on reducing classroom conflicts and the achievement gap through the development of cultural synchronization (Irvine, 1990), culturally responsive pedagogy (Delpit, 1995; Ware, 2006), and culturally responsive classroom management (Bondy, Ross, Gallingane, & Hambacher, 2007; Brown, 2004; Weinstein, Tomlinson-Clarke, & Curran, 2004). Some urban education literature implicitly links discipline, ideology, and culture, and may be helpful for finding ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices and the discipline gap.
Discipline
Disparity in disciplinary referrals, or the discipline gap, appears to originate in classrooms as systematic, racial bias (Skiba et al., 2000). Race and class privilege are intertwined with teachers’ perceptions and expectations of students, key factors in classroom decision making (Blanchett, 2006; Noguera, 2003, 2008; Rist, 1970). Teachers who misunderstand students’ cultural goals refer African American males to the office more often than Whites (Monroe, 2009). African American students are referred for subjective behaviors such as excessive noise, disrespect, disobedience, disorderly conduct, and fighting; White students are referred for objective behaviors such as vandalism or smoking (Skiba, 2001). African American students have a 31% higher likelihood of being suspended than White students even though no evidence supports the notion that African American students misbehave more (Fabelo et al., 2011).
Studies comparing cultural interaction styles show African American behaviors perceived as misbehaviors (e.g., cultural humor and discourse, play fighting, overlapping speech) were not intended as such (Irvine, 1990). Teachers’ disproportional view of African American students as discipline problems may be explained as conflicting with school norms because of race, academic problems, and socioeconomic status (Fenning & Rose, 2007). This belief, augmented by federal mandated academic standards and fear of losing control in the classroom, leads to the notion that certain students are troublemakers and dangerous, contributing to the discipline gap and school-to-prison pipeline.
Zero tolerance policies have been adopted by 94% of U.S. public schools even though none of the five panels of experts on school violence recommended zero tolerance or school security as a best practice in reducing violence (Skiba et al., 2006; Skiba & Leone, 2001; Skiba & Rausch, 2006). Inequities in education policies, procedures, and practices resulting from student racial profiling indicated disparities in disciplinary referrals were a greater concern. Related ethnographic research suggests that teachers’ fear of loss of control, heightened by recent zero-tolerance policies and power relations in the classroom, contribute to increased suspensions. Vavrus and Cole (2002) explored “sociocultural factors that influence a teacher’s decision to remove a student from the classroom” (p. 87) in a school characterized by large minority enrollment and zero tolerance of violence policies. Results indicated that disciplinary moments, or “patterns of classroom interaction that often precede a suspension” (p. 89), are negotiated as social practice among teachers and students in moment-by-moment interactions. Teachers often singled out particular students for exclusionary discipline based on perceived loss of control rather than actual violent behavior.
Ideology
The discipline gap may stem from teachers’ implicit theories, or ideology, about the causes of classroom discipline problems (Gregory & Mosely, 2010). Dominant ideology supports conventional views of discipline, teaching, and learning that involve lecturing, authoritarianism, competition, and passivity (Giroux, 2001). Dominant ideology prevails in U.S. schools today as transmission-style teaching, or banking education, which occurs when knowledge is metaphorically deposited into and withdrawn from the learners’ heads by the teacher (Freire, 2000). According to its opponents, banking education is oppressive education, which upholds mainstream status quo by reproducing (i.e., repeating) taken-for-granted conditions of dominant culture and not addressing the political nature of schooling (Freire & Macedo, 1987; Winn, 2011). Teachers who espouse dominant ideology accept banking education and scripted lessons as the norm, expecting students to listen, learn, and regurgitate dominant information; some students comply passively. However, students from nondominant racial backgrounds resist dominant scripted lessons that are unrelated to their sociocultural realities by disengaging, disrupting, and dropping out disproportionately (Giroux, 1994; King, 2005). Eventually, teachers may develop the impression that students from nondominant racial backgrounds cannot learn or refuse to behave and resort to exclusionary discipline practices to maintain control.
On the other hand, transformative ideology supports critical social practice views of discipline, teaching, and learning that encourage democratic negotiable social processes (Brantlinger & Danforth, 2006; Butchart & McEwan, 1998). Transformative conditions for learning produce interactional identity transformation during negotiations in a critical community of practice (Pane, 2010). Within transformative ideology, (a) knowledge is politically, socially, and historically constructed (Giroux, 2001); (b) power operates through language (Friere, 2000); and (c) people have agency (i.e., recognition of one’s ability to make and act on choices) through community membership (Gutiérrez, 2008). Teachers who espouse transformative ideology produce positive, vibrant classroom relationships, including democratic classroom cultures that encourage students’ active participation as citizens in public discourse, inquiry, critique, collaborative learning, and critical pedagogy (McLaren, 2003). Transformative teaching dismantles status quo educational practices and expectations embedded in oppressive classroom relationships and classroom conflicts by encouraging students’ agency and identity development (hooks, 1994). Transformative teachers are cultural workers (Freire, 2000) who are empowered—recognize their own agency—to change oppressive conditions and, in turn, empower students from nondominant racial backgrounds to do the same (Lewis, Enciso, & Moje, 2007; Rex, 2006; Rex et al., 2010; Rex & Schiller, 2009; Winn, 2011).
Culture
How teachers view culture, whether through dominant ideology as cultural power or through transformative ideology as social practices, influences classroom relationship expectations and interactions. Cultural power is evident when tacit understandings about [static] identity are distorted, recognized, and reflected by unequal power relations among people whether unconsciously or semiconsciously (Delpit, 1995). Cultural power, or distorted power relations, is at play when a person acts, reacts, or interacts in ways that ignore others’ interests and provide false (i.e., unreal or oppressive) choices (Carspecken, 1996). In reality, power and action, both verbal and nonverbal, are intertwined (i.e., interactive power relations) but the success of a person’s actions is dependent on how far removed the actions are from coercion. Power accompanies all actions and makes a difference in subsequent events, regardless of size. Yet, even in constraining or coercive situations, participants have agency. Cultural power is at its height when verbal and nonverbal inputs and interactions are most unequal among participants. Cultural power is oppressive and, therefore, undesirable. Cultural power is not at play when participants negotiate consent with each other in ways that lead toward mutually agreed on goals and outcomes.
On the other hand, culture as social practices means how individuals participate in particular activities by drawing on artifacts, tools, and other people to solve local problems (Nasir & Hand, 2006). Culture as social practices encompasses patterns of beliefs, values, and practices that are inherited and transformed over time through participation and engagement with heterogeneous communities (Gutiérrez, 2002). Identity is acknowledged as shifting attitudes, representations, and desires of a generation of youth being produced within the current historical, economic, and cultural juncture (Giroux, 1994). Within the context of a hybrid, or problematic, learning environment, viewing culture as social practices provides a lens for reconceptualizing classroom relationship expectations and interactions—and, thus, classrooms as social sites (Gutiérrez, Baquedano-López, & Tejeda, 2003). In classrooms reconceptualized as social sites, teachers and students negotiate consent through tacit understandings to transform oppressive classroom relationship expectations and educational practices, such as exclusionary school discipline. Although predictable classroom routines develop over time, teachers and students have agency to challenge, resist, produce, or transform conditions while negotiating consent during interactive power relations (Carspecken, 1996).
Problem
To date, some urban education literature implicitly links discipline, ideology, and culture but has not examined teachers’ sense of agency to transform classroom disciplinary decisions that may significantly reduce suspensions, which contribute to the discipline gap and the school-to-prison pipeline. Few studies explore the social aspects of classroom interactions to understand and transform oppressive classroom relationship expectations and teachers’ exclusionary school discipline practices. Few studies occur in disciplinary alternative schools and classrooms where students from nondominant racial backgrounds have been suspended or expelled disproportionately. To find ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices, classroom studies that explicitly link and synthesize research on discipline, ideology, and culture are needed.
Purpose
The purpose of this study was to explore the relation between classroom interactions and exclusionary school discipline practices within and across four classrooms in a disciplinary alternative school. A critical microethnographic methodology supported the examination, interpretation, and analysis of interactive power relations to illuminate ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices. The research question was “How do teachers use power in the classroom to avoid or support exclusionary school discipline practices?”
Critical Social Practice Theory
Critical social practice theory (Lave & Wenger, 1991) supports views of teaching, learning, language, literacy, culture, and discipline as integral social practices that are actively negotiated in specific situations. Critical social practice theory of learning provides a framework for bringing together theories of situated activity and theories about the production and reproduction of the social order . . . . a common ground for exploring their integral, constitutive relations, their entailments, and effects in a framework of social practice theory, in which production, transformation, and change in the identities of persons, knowledgeable skill in practice, and communities of practice are realized in the lived-in world of engagement in everyday activity. (p. 47)
Learning is viewed as situated activity in communities of practice; that is, students engage in social practice and learn through various aspects of community membership to become full participants in the sociocultural practices of a particular community. Teachers and students participate with each other based on previous experiences and how they understand the current situation. Critical social practice theory of learning provides a framework for (a) understanding how and why distorted power relations occur in particular classrooms and (b) finding ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices.
Critical Microethnographic Research Method
Critical microethnographic research methodology is grounded in “reconceptualized critical inquiry or evolving criticality [i.e., bricolage]” (Kincheloe, McLaren, & Steinberg, 2011, p. 164). Bricolage methodology, based on critical consciousness, encompasses hermeneutic (search for micro- and macro-understanding) and critical concern for social justice or advocacy for participants in oppressed conditions and situations (Denzin, 2003; Gildersleeve, 2010; Valenzuela, 1999). Criticalists are concerned with social theory, social inequalities, and working for positive change of social structure, power, culture, and human agency (Carspecken, 1996).
Critical epistemological assumptions include (a) thinking is mediated by socially and historically constituted power relations; (b) facts are influenced by people’s values and beliefs; (c) conscious and unconscious awareness is based in language; (d) certain societal groups are privileged over others, and oppression is reproduced when those who are oppressed accept oppression as inevitable; (e) dominant power operates in hidden ways to reproduce interrelated forms of oppression; and (f) “mainstream research practices are generally, although unwittingly, implicated in the reproduction of systems of class, race, and gender oppression” (Kincheloe et al., 2011, p. 164).
Multiple hermeneutical critical microethnographic tasks challenge prevailing dominant research practices, epistemologies, and sociocultural practices and conditions (Foley & Valenzuela, 2005). Critical microethnography seeks to dismantle dominant conditions, which limit choices, constrain meaning, and denigrate identities of youth from nondominant racial backgrounds and communities, with the goal of greater freedom and equity (Madison, 2012). In this study, critical microethnography confronts the injustice and violence of exclusionary school discipline practices for the purpose of social transformation, critical consciousness, and critical pedagogy (Freire, 2003; Giroux, 1994; McLaren, 2003; Shor & Freire, 2003).
Validity Measures
Validity measures for critical microethnographic research help establish data credibility in openly ideological, or value-based, research study (Lather, 2003). Validation requirements in critical epistemology are located in nontraditional signs and signifiers that do not relate to each other through perceptual experiences. Instead, signs and signifiers are “mediated through power relations” (Carspecken, 1996, p. 15), thus, getting at the holistic, internalized, taken-for-granted cultural expectations of routine social interactions. See Data Collection and Analysis Stages for descriptions of validity measures.
Context
This study took place in a disciplinary alternative school (pseudonym: The School) in Miami-Dade County Public Schools (M-DCPS), Florida, the fourth largest public school district in the country, with approximately 392 schools and 345,000 students (M-DCPS, 2012). Student population is 62% Latino, 26% African American, and 9% White. Thirty-nine elementary, middle, and high schools with 44,000 Black (67%), Latino (30%), and Haitian (3%) students have struggled academically for years. Students who attend M-DCPS disciplinary alternative schools have (a) been suspended or expelled from struggling mainstream schools and/or released from detention programs; (b) higher than district average suspension, truancy, or absence rates; and (c) lower achievement on standardized reading comprehension tests.
Participants
The School’s principal approved the research study, selected a start date that did not conflict with high-stakes testing, and assigned his assistant principal to serve as key informant. The assistant principal emailed all (approximately 25) teachers the researcher’s screening questionnaire, requesting study participants. She ranked the six classroom teachers who responded as willing participants by their use of exclusionary school discipline, based on the number of written referrals to remove disruptive students from class.
Criterion Sampling
Criterion sampling determined all cases that met the following criteria: (a) four classrooms in the same disciplinary alternative school; (b) two teachers who rarely used exclusionary discipline; and (c) two teachers who frequently used exclusionary discipline. From rankings provided, the lead researcher selected and met with four teacher participants who fit the criteria to explain and answer questions about the study, develop classroom observation schedules, and collect official M-DCPS class lists. Each teacher signed a consent form and agreed to distribute parental consent/teen assent forms in class.
Prior to entering each classroom to introduce herself, discuss the study, and collect students’ signed consent/assent forms, the researcher called each phone number on the class lists to inform parents/guardians that their child would bring home a consent/assent to sign for participation in the study. From a total of 33 students, the researcher successfully contacted 8 parents or guardians; left 13 messages; and reached 10 incorrect/disconnected phone numbers. Sixteen students, 4 from each classroom, returned their signed consent/assent forms (see Table 1).
Criterion Sampling Results.
Data Collection and Data Analysis Stages
Each critical microethnographic data collection and analysis stage is summarized below (for thorough explanations of procedures and sample transcripts, see Pane, 2009; Pane & Rocco, 2009).
Stage 1—Data Collection for the Primary Record
Stage 1 involved three subsessions: 5 hr of passive (uninvolved) observations in each classroom, documented with video recordings and primary record notes, followed by field journal notes of initial interpretations (Carspecken, 1996). Validation procedures included (a) passive observations to reduce the Hawthorn effect of researcher presence on routine activities although participants’ cultural schemas typically remain intact during observations; and (b) low-inference primary record notes (e.g., as if, appears to be) to describe interactions, speech acts, and body movements and postures (i.e., linguistic behavior).
Stage 2—Building a Primary Recordfrom Classroom Observations
Stage 2 involved two sessions: (a) viewing and analyzing each 5-hr videorecorded observation to determine a 1-hr representative video segment of disciplinary interaction patterns; (b) viewing and analyzing each 1-hr representative video segment to determine a 20-min segment, which was burned onto a DVD and used as video data during video feedback interviews. Validation procedures involved (a) triangulation of observational notes, theoretical notes, and video data to gain multiple viewpoints; (b) consistency checks for accuracy, matching notes with signs and signifiers from video data. Throughout the study, triangulation of data sources, methods, and theoretical schemes encouraged a more complete understanding of exclusionary discipline as a social practice.
Stage 3—Dialogical Data Generation
Stage 3 involved two subsessions: (a) group video feedback interviews with each sample of students to gain their perspective on what happened and why during respective video data; and (b) lightly structured and video feedback interviews with each teacher to gain his or her perspective on what happened and why during respective video data. Protocols facilitated interviews, documented with a digital recorder and field journal notes. Participants’ perspectives illuminated the researcher’s tacit understanding of disciplinary interaction patterns in each classroom, not portrayed by observations alone.
Validation procedures involved member checks and peer debriefer feedback for face validity, and open-ended video data feedback interviews for catalytic validity. Member checks were solicited from participants during video feedback interviews to augment researcher preliminary and reconstructive analyses of primary record data and interpretations of social interaction data (Carspecken, 1996). Peer debriefers who belonged to a peer review group with the lead researcher provided feedback on both lightly structured interview protocols and researcher interpretations of data. Open-ended video data feedback interviews (in which participants critiqued their own classroom interactions) supported the researcher’s attempts to energize participants in conscientization, or getting to know one’s reality to better transform it. Feedback interviews also supported transparent documentation of conflicting video data accounts and rapport building to equalize power relations, minimize researcher’s voice, and maximize participants’ perspectives.
Stage 4—Building a Primary Record from Representative Classroom Observations
Stage 4 involved three subsessions: (a) transcribe and consecutively number meaningful utterances during the third viewing of video data from each classroom, (b) analyze meaningful utterances and linguistic behaviors observed during the fourth viewing of video data from each classroom, and (c) analyze possible objective validity claims (i.e., possible meanings) about the observed linguistic behaviors while reading the transcript from each classroom. At this point after the primary record was built, the researcher reread and compared her interpretations and analyses of objective data with subjective data collected during Stage 3 interviews. Validation procedures involved peer-debriefers’ checks on researcher’s biases and/or omissions in analyses and interpretations for face validity. Detailed results from data analyses provided transparent documentation of hermeneutically developed researcher judgments.
Stage 5—Reconstructive Data Analysis of Representative Classroom Observations
Stage 5 involved the 3-step inductive process of interpreting tacit cultural and subjective material, or meanings of social interactions in the primary record (Carspecken, 1996), into explicit discourse: (a) initial meaning reconstruction including low-level coding (i.e., categorizing types of interactions) and explicit meaning reconstruction (i.e., analyzing possible underlying meanings) of video data for each classroom; (b) “pragmatic horizon analysis” (p. 103) of linguistic behaviors conducted on video data for each classroom, adapting five theoretical tools for critical discourse analysis (i.e., contextualization cues, boundary-making, turn-taking patterns, thematic coherence, and intertextuality; Bloome, Carter, Christian, Otto, & Shuart-Faris, 2005; Gee, 2005; Rogers, Malancharuvil-Berkes, Mosley, Hui, & Joseph, 2005); and (c) validity reconstructions (i.e., articulating potential reasons a participant would use to defend an action).
Validation procedures for reconstructive data analysis involved triangulation of data and procedures to gain multiple viewpoints. Participants’ comfort and agency in making truthful claims during data collection increased researcher familiarity and reflexivity toward participants’ lived experiences for construct validity, indicating changes in a priori theory based on logic of the data and encouraging intersubjectivity for spotting cultural power.
Stage 6—Building a Primary Record From Interviews
Stage 6 involved two subsessions: (a) listen to and transcribe student interviews; and (b) listen to and transcribe teacher interviews. Procedures mirrored transcribing meaningful utterances during Stage 4, but using interview data.
Stage 7—Reconstructive Data Analysis of Interviews
Stage 7 involved two subsessions: (a) initial meaning reconstruction of student interviews; and (b) initial meaning reconstruction of teacher interviews. Procedures mirrored Stage 5 initial meaning reconstruction logic, using interview data.
Stage 8—High-level Coding Procedures
Stage 8 involved triangulation of video data with matching interview statements and exemplary pragmatic horizon analyses.
Stage 9—Final Reconstructive Data Analysis
Stage 9 involved interactive power analysis, role analysis, thematic analysis, and comparative analysis. The purpose of interactive power analysis was to spot cultural power. Grounded in hermeneutically developed tacit understandings from previous stages, interactive power analysis involved the process of determining who has what kind of power and why (Carspecken, 1996) to define and determine classroom relationships. First, the researcher deductively listed and analyzed types of power that participants used to gain consent, or the right of power over others, utilizing Carspecken’s (1996) typology of interactively established power: (a) normative power, holding a higher position in the culture or society, (b) coercive power, forcing obedience after threatening punishment, (c) interactively established contracts, negotiating based on an implicit level of understanding between participants, and (d) charm, using one’s personality. Charm consists of culturally relevant, positive, and appropriate humor; smiling, laughing, and teasing to encourage students; and reducing social distance to show concern and care. Second, the researcher inductively determined why and the extent to which cultural power was at play.
Based on validity reconstructions and interactive power analysis, the researcher conducted role analysis by inductively determining and naming participants’ roles during routine “interactive rhythms and sequences” (Carspecken, 1996, p. 137). Roles emerge as themes, or complex ways of acting, which participants recognize in context. When participants recognize a role at play, they can predict, but not ensure, future actions. Finally, the researcher conducted thematic analysis followed by comparative analysis across all classrooms.
Presentation and Discussion of Findings from Interactive Power Analysis
Findings from Stage 9 interactive power analyses incorporate tacit understandings derived hermeneutically from Stages 1 to 8 to illuminate normative power, interactively established contracts, coercive power, and charm. A discussion of cultural power is included with the findings from each teacher’s classroom. Data quotes are italicized.
Mr. Jenkins
Mr. Jenkins used normative power, interactively established contracts, and charm, but not coercive power to gain students’ consent.
Normative power
Mr. Jenkins used normative power to maintain his authoritative status as teacher disciplinarian with a loud voice, active gestures, and brisk movements. Once students finished the vocabulary and were on board as culinary assistants, Mr. Jenkins dictated redundant orders—I’m cooking, what I want to do, what I need done, what are the first two things you are supposed to do in the kitchen, do the dishes for me, go wash your hands, read this recipe, or give this recipe card to [Green] for me. With minimal resistance, Raul, Hector, Green, and Patt consented as culinary assistants by finishing vocabulary, working in the kitchen, and staying in class. For example, after returning to class from a parent–teacher conference, Patt heard a scuffle outside and left the class unannounced to check on his grandma (per video feedback interview). After Mr. Jenkins realized Patt got sucked out the door, he used explicit authoritative statements to call him back—Send Patt back in this room, get back in here, or (on Patt’s return) no you don’t have to go do something! Patt returned after he was satisfied that his grandma was fine.
Interactively established contracts
Mr. Jenkins used interactively established contracts while he checked attendance to get students to complete the daily vocabulary assignment before working in the kitchen. Students consented after exhibiting some resistance to maintain identity and agency with their own communication goals because Mr. Jenkins would not give in until everyone agreed to do the vocabulary. For example, Raul remarked sarcastically about being a busy entrepreneur, and Hector worked on a personal drawing project while listening to headphones for as long as possible before doing the vocabulary. Green texted and made excuses while Mr. Jenkins spent time talking one-on-one with him to get him motivated on board with the vocabulary assignment and the cooking project for the day. For example, Mr. Jenkins negotiated an interactively established contract with Green—Do your vocabulary, I’ll not give you a hard time about the bus being on time but you being late to class—if Green would not give him a hard time in class. Green consented but maintained identity and agency by tossing his notebook on the table, saying humorously—I gotta give you hard time. Ultimately, students became culinary assistants; Mr. Jenkins remained chef in charge.
Charm
Mr. Jenkins conceptualized the classroom situation as a kitchen in the workplace and by apprenticing assistants with charm, he won students’ consent, loyalty, and trust. He manifested charm vis-à-vis smiles, waves, nods, vernacular, humor, sarcasm, and stories to motivate students, achieve desired cooking products, and provide encouragement. Mr. Jenkins told humorous stories about previous cooking projects, repairing yeast rolls, salvaging sausage sandwiches, and working on a tortellini project; or future plans, such as doing a cooking show; or stories of his life outside of school—Guess what happened to me last night? I got offered free tickets to a concert. Once in a while, Mr. Jenkins combined charm with an interactively established contractual reminder—You used to be kinda good in here or here is a story about how someone botched up a recipe. Students knew Mr. Jenkins would not snitch on them, having witnessed multiple opportunities Mr. Jenkins could have written referrals but did not. For example, when students from other classrooms walked in without passes to buy food, Mr. Jenkins examined the bootleg pass, humorously sending them back to class—I’m supposed to do this, ain’t I?
Mr. Jenkins’s ultimate goal of keeping students in class to prevent suspension matched students’ goal to not get suspended and return to their regular school. Students liked Mr. Jenkins’s fair, positive influence, and no-nonsense attitude and how Mr. Jenkins differed from other teachers who called students names and got mad. Mr. Jenkins listened to students and liked them but also needed students to help him with his culinary deadlines. He encouraged students’ identity and agency development as clown, artist, or entrepreneur. Students felt important and smart rather than bad kids.
Cultural power
In Mr. Jenkins’s classroom, cultural power was not at play. Mr. Jenkins provided students with real choices for achieving his classroom relationship expectations. He eventually gained consent from all students who realized that his expectations were beneficial. Each student could recognize himself as someone who cooked well, did vocabulary, used his own agency and resisted healthily without punishment, and maintained identity to participate in his own interests to a point. Mr. Jenkins juxtaposed charm, normative power, interactively established contracts, cooking, and his own humanity successfully with students’ resistant identities at The School, subsiding potential conflicts quickly. Completing a product as a necessary member of the cooking team was universally important in this class. Vocabulary was not universally important, but students consented to gain the teacher’s support, encouragement, and, more importantly, prevent their suspension.
Mr. Frederek
Mr. Frederek used normative power, interactively established contracts, and coercive power, but not charm to gain students’ consent.
Normative power
Mr. Frederek used normative power as he stood with authoritative stature and demeanor at the door directing his students sternly into class and protecting his classroom from intruders. COME ON, he often said in a loud deep voice. He claimed students’ attention with OKAY to conduct lectures from the front of the room behind a long table that provided social distance. Mr. Frederek also used normative nonverbal claims during class by walking around continually among students to pass out supplies; provide directions for maps, handouts, and seatwork students had to do; and check their work, using little eye contact. He gave students many opportunities to consent to his normative claims.
Interactively established contracts
Mr. Frederek used interactively established contracts to provide an enjoyable classroom for teaching and learning science and to protect students from suspension.
To provide an enjoyable class
Mr. Frederek believed that an enjoyable class for teaching and learning science means the teacher teaches, and students have fun and learn at least something about science. Mr. Frederek provided pictorial science information to gain students’ attention and make learning more enjoyable and changed teaching approaches, drawing and using overhead transparencies, every 15 minutes or so. To Mr. Frederek, having fun meant students could talk (or not), did not bother each other, and did not get suspended. Students had fun constructing acceptable identities and maintaining agency by talking about what they liked, asking questions, and letting Mr. Frederek teach while they mocked his accent, writing, teaching topics, and mannerisms. Mr. Frederek did not take critique as a challenge to his authority; he usually ignored them but periodically interspersed normative claims—Watch your language, turn off your IPOD, Carlos, stop it—when students became disruptive enough to jeopardize his classroom relationship expectations. Carlos turned off his IPOD after telling Jack what the lyrics meant, asked Mr. Frederek for an explanation but cursed the class because I don’t get it and threw the handout on the floor. Meanwhile, Antonio fiddled with the overhead, traded Starbursts, scrunched his eyes at Jack for teasing, and laid his head down while Julio wrote silently. When interactively established contracts got unruly and students bothered each other too much, Mr. Frederek stepped in to protect them from each other and from suspension.
To protect students
To protect students, Mr. Frederek made disciplinary decisions that did not ruin their chances at school by writing referrals that removed students from class and usually led to suspension. He also did not want students to leave class in anger without permission, which could also lead to suspension. For example, to protect Antonio from his taunters, Mr. Frederek interjected normative claims—Leave each other alone now, don’t talk to him, that’s enough, don’t look at him, Jack Jack stop. Using agency to initiate an interactively established contract, Antonio cursed to get the guys off his back and headed for the door threatening to leave, challengingMr. Frederek’s ability to protect him. Mr. Frederek accepted this interactively established contract and tried to get Antonio to stay—You have been in this class, sit down; Carlos, you are the one who should be leaving, be quiet leave him alone. Carlos claimed normative power with Antonio—Your rank just dropped super low, referencing their peer group cultural identity.
Mr. Frederek claimed—Don’t worry about it—to Antonio, interactively reestablishing the contract that he protects students, followed by a loud normative claim of LEAVE HIM ALONE THAT’S ENOUGH! Jack rejected the claim laughing—How long have we been working on earthquakes? Mr. Frederek, you deserve an award for patience, the board is dirty—then mouthing to Carlos, laughing at what he said, and accepting Antonio’s stare as straight, chillin’, mack. Carlos rejected the claim, pulling up his hood, listening to his IPOD loudly even though asked to put it up, and mouthing words to Antonio. If students’ interactively established contracts referencing cultural humor, music culture, and identities got out of hand and were not negotiated successfully, Mr. Frederek resorted to coercive power, albeit seldom.
Coercive power
Rather than write referrals to kick students out of class, Mr. Frederek issued threats based on students’ history of classroom behavior to call home when good students with support at home bothered each other too much. For example, Mr. Frederek said to Jack who was bothering Antonio too much—Be quiet or I’ll call your parents. Jack accepted the claim—All right all right, naw naw naw. On the other hand, if a student challenged Mr. Frederek’s classroom goals 24-7, he was eventually sent to detention for a breather. For example, Mr. Frederek had ignored much of Carlos’s talk until he asked—What is the word on the board—sluts? Mr. Frederek replied with normative claims—Faults, you cause the problems, be quiet, write it down even if he doesn’t understand it, but be quiet! When Carlos continued arguing, Mr. Frederek said loudly—YOU’RE OUT FROM HERE! To security, he said authoritatively—I need Carlos out.
Although Jack asked—Why did you kick him out?—students knew Mr. Frederek was patient but, like most teachers, had a limit. Carlos appeared to accept the normative claim to leave Antonio alone but rejected the coercive claim to leave, repeating—What does that say—sluts?—about the word he was copying from the board Carlos appeared to innocently think faults was sluts as he pursued with cursing, asking, disbelief, and questioning—How can I copy if I don’t know the word? Carlos’s breather in detention occurred as a result of an historically disruptive period of time in Mr. Frederek’s classroom. Carlos returned from detention after 15 min, the time limit allowed in there without a written referral, appearing to acceptMr. Frederek’s classroom relationship expectations but muttered an insult—I hate this class—on his way back in the room to maintain identity and agency. He began writing and tapping his pencil with his head down. Julio, Antonio, and Jack accepted Mr. Frederek’s claim, asking questions about science, which Mr. Frederek answered. Mr. Frederek ultimately gained consent from students to not bother anyone else and settle down into the classwork.
Cultural power
In Mr. Frederek’s classroom, cultural power was somewhat at play. Mr. Frederek’s continual reference to his classroom relationship expectation of leaving each other alone was only partially recognized by the students, noted in how they continued to bother each other. Interests of all participants were not fulfilled by this expectation; they wanted to bother the new quiet guy, Julio, and their crew member, Antonio, to maintain identity and solidarity each other. Mr. Frederek did not forefront, or openly threaten, the inevitable written referral, because he did not want students to get suspended; instead, he encouraged students’ agency and identity development. Julio got to be silent, do work, and text. Jack got to be humorous, creative, sarcastic, and interject science knowledge. Antonio got to stay and not be bothered. Carlos got to be the rank master among his peers but got sent out of class because he had a history of not consenting 24-7. He also got to return to class but since he did not recognize himself in the work he muttered an insult to maintain peer identity. Overall, cultural power was somewhat at play but worked to students’ interests, particularly not getting suspended.
Ms. Gomez
Ms. Gomez used normative power, interactively established contracts, and coercive power, but not charm to gain students’ consent.
Normative power
Ms. Gomez used normative power claims immediately after the bell sounded to enforce her classroom relationship expectations—Sit down, do your bellwork—to get students settled down and give her time to get organized. Stanley blurted out several expletives, texted, and sat behind the reserved circle of desks. Dann discussed Stanley’s expletive. Jonathan kept his hood on and remained silent. Ms. Gomez thought she could get students to do their work if she kept reminding them; thus, she repeated normative claims—Dann enough! Stop running your mouth. Stanley, put up the phone. You can’t use the phone no matter who it is. Dann and Stanley persisted with disruptive behavior to maintain identity and agency.
Interactively established contracts
When normative power did not enforce Ms. Gomez’s classroom relationship expectations, she entered into interactively established contracts to encourage students to practice prompts for the upcoming high-stakes test by writing about what happened outside of school. Ongoing conversations, including play fighting, dominated the classroom culture and relationship norms even though Stanley appeared to consent when he mentioned football, but then slumped down, said ohhh, and returned to texting. Jonathan rejected the claim—I don’t know what to write. Dann rejected the claim—I don’t want to talk about football, stretched his arms back and moaned uhhh. He changed the prompt repeatedly to familiar topics—The student who was absent because he got beat up, someone who peed on the wall last year, and I’ve decided to miss school the rest of the year. Dann relentlessly challenged Ms. Gomez’s authority and voiced his opinion about why they were writing in language arts class, he disliked writing, and he preferred a different prompt. To Ms. Gomez, it was important to try to reach an agreement—I’ll let you do that one if you want to, those are old test prompts, and that’s why you saw that one already. Dann rejected the claim—You didn’t even read it to us, I could do better than, and no I already did that one. He continued conversing with Stanley.
Ms. Gomez pursued an interactively established contract with Stanley to do his work for her, who replied with a different agreement—I’ll get to work after coming back from the bathroom, please, I gotta go, please miss. On return, he moved closer to the circle of desks and requested her academic assistance intermittently while continually conversing with Dann, striving for a dual identity. Jonathan said—We should not be writing in language arts—consented partially by opening his notebook but complained—Oh, my God, I’m not gonna.
Coercive power
When conversations got out of hand and students rejected interactively established contracts continually, Ms. Gomez decided to try another technique, introducing coercive power claims with subtle threats of written referral—You could use these grades, where’s your bellwork, stop wasting time, start writing, the more you write today the less you gotta write Thursday, can’t put it off until tomorrow, due before 2:00 p.m., and good time to start now isn’t it? Dann rejected her claims—I’m not going to be here Thursday, I will be on field trip, I have a D in my bellwork, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, will work tomorrow, I wasn’t expecting to write today, ain’t doing none of my work in none of my classes today, too late anyway—and finally discussing body building and my muscles. Stanley consented momentarily—What grade do I got so far?
When faced with incessant negotiations, Ms. Gomez interjected implicit coercive power threats of referral—Stanley, if you wait, I’ll let you go to the bathroom, you gotta wait to go the bathroom, why didn’t you go between classes, gotta wait 10 minutes, I can’t write you a pass for the bathroom until you wait 10 minutes, and let’s take 10 minutes to write two things and openly documenting behavior in a notebook for future reference when talking to their parents. Dann rejected her claim, still egging Stanley on about what happened after school. Stanley appeared to accept her claim while looking at the notes she was writing—Miss what are you writing? If you want us to talk about writing, can I put about dirt bike ridin? However, Dann and Stanley continued arguing to maintain agency and identity, ignoring Mr. Gomez’s subtle threats.
To Ms. Gomez, using other subtle coercive power claims such as always holding a referral form in her hand served as a constant reminder to students of the sanction of being written up if they did not consent to be quiet and do your work. When Stanley refused to put up his cell phone, Ms. Gomez started writing on the referral form repeating—guys, guys—so they would hear and consent to do their work. When Stanley continued texting, she implicitly reminded him—What are you doing wrong? When subtle claims were challenged, Ms. Gomez interjected explicit requests—Stop focusing on each other, start focusing on getting your grades in, take it out on your essay, Stanley you’re instigating, why are you asking him how when you should be writing, I thought you said you would do you work when you return, should I play the tape, and Stanley let it go. Stanley rejected the claims, texting, conversing, and play fighting with Dann. Jonathan laughed.
After continual rejection of her claims as the deadline for finishing their work approached and disruptive conversation persisted, Ms. Gomez felt forced to make explicit and blatant coercive power threats of referral—Don’t make me write this referral, I’m losing my patience with both of you, are you going to write or do you want to go? She warned the sanction of detention to Stanley—What do you got? Jonathan quietly hummed and accepted the claim. Dann rejected the claim by continuing the conflict with Stanley and not agreeing to write—I’m sleepy, I don’t like Stanley. Ms. Gomez was comfortable pursuing new interactively established contracts—Dann, you can do it, why do I have to push you so much, what’s going on, and I know you’ve been lazy lately, I think if you try, you could do this but you don’t try, you don’t have to like each other, just do your work in here is all I ask.
Dann pondered the claim silently and ultimately rejected her help, reaffirming his opposition to authoritative decisions and resistance to classroom activities. He made it clear that he preferred a community identity as someone who was strong and brave and stood by his word over a student identity as someone who was not smart, not well behaved, and not able to successfully return to regular school. Stanley gave partial, momentary consent to do the work, but Ms. Gomez told him how and what to write immediately, suggesting that he could not do the work without her help. Jonathan silently consented to the cultural power plays as a new student and not established at The School yet, while trying to recognize himself and his interests in the classroom. Ms. Gomez ignored Jonathan since he did not cause an overt behavioral problem. Ultimately, being true to one’s self and community defined the topic of conversation between Stanley and Dann and the classroom relationship norms.
Cultural power
In Ms. Gomez’s classroom, cultural power was usually at play. Ms. Gomez’s students never recognized themselves or their interests within Ms. Gomez’s articulated classroom relationship expectations. Students perpetually changed the academic and behavioral topics suggested by Ms. Gomez to their own interests about what happened outside of school. Ms. Gomez never achieved students’ consent that her proposed classroom relationship expectations were as important as the arguments they were having. Ms. Gomez also gave mixed messages by listening, holding, or writing on the referral form as a threat, and requiring behavior standards but reneging on those requirements if she saw an opening for successful interactively established contracts. Ms. Gomez’s heightened interests in counseling misbehavior impeded other classroom relationship expectations. Overall, cultural power was usually at play in this classroom.
Mr. Glass
Mr. Glass used normative power and coercive power, but not interactively established contracts or charm to gain students’ consent.
Normative power
Mr. Glass used normative power to teach literature in an orderly climate to students who were forced to do as expected or eventually get suspended. Mr. Glass was most comfortable conducting normative power claims from behind the computer or pacing back and forth leisurely in front of the students, providing social distance. Normative power claims took up most of the class period as announcements about skippers, preparations, testing, and lecturing.
Skippers
To Mr. Glass, announcing with authoritative normative power claims that he was doing attendance first, made it clear to students that they must abide by the attendance rules—I’m looking for skippers, I need them here, I’m going to find them. Mr. Glass blamed students for bad choices, saying—I cannot make them come to class, it’s out of my hands.
Preparations
Mr. Glass also announced with authoritative normative power claims his preparations for class with gesturing, seeing little need for eye contact though—Here’s what we’re going to do today, okay, today, we’re going to start a new curriculum, this is how I do it, this is what you do, I am passing out a play, setting up the overhead projector, look at it, let’s go, and is that clear. Derrick consented by putting his notebook and pencil on the desk, answering—yeah. Roberto consented by moving his desk over to see better, sitting down, and getting ready.
Testing
To Mr. Glass, announcing with authoritative normative power claims about how he conducts testing was important—I will help you get back to regular school, you are not expected to do the test alone, I will do all I can to make it easy so you could make good grades. Mr. Glass announced in step-by-step fashion—Do you have something to write with? You gotta write on it, absolutely, I am giving you copies so you have it in front of you, here’s the whole play because the test is on the whole play, I’ll direct you toward where I think you can find the answers, I’ll put the test up here, I’m going to use the overhead projector to help you guys take the test, and you shouldn’t have problems since you took part of it as a quiz. To maintain agency and identity, students played Mr. Glass’s normative power game of listening, guessing answers, and following along.
Lecturing
Mr. Glass believed that lecturing, which manifested as normative claims, with continuous, repetitive, sing-song voice intonation, and gestures illustrated his expertise. He stated—I’ll give you a handout, I’ll help you, or I was impressed with your knowledge on the test, pointing to the bulletin board showcasing the two tests on which he helped students with the answers. He interjected directive normative statements—The other kids who did not have the kind of preparation you did will take the test while you go with the researcher for the interview and now you’re going to take notes, and Green, if you care to, will take notes and then we’re going to work on a 10-question handout after lunch. He made decisions at the beginning of class as to whether students would stay or not. Once a student consented to stay, he remained quiet, listened to the continuous rhythm of Mr. Glass’s lecture voice, and played the game of being helped by the teacher.
Coercive power
Mr. Glass used coercive power to maintain an orderly teaching climate and force students to adopt his expectations on entrance into the classroom. To him, this meant be quiet and do what he said, or get kicked out immediately. Knowing this, students decided in advance whether to come into class compliantly and stay, come into class disruptively and get kicked out immediately, or skip class altogether. As a result, Mr. Glass often taught only one student. Coercive power sanctions of exclusionary discipline were always underlying but Mr. Glass did not want to kick anyone during the study because he needed bodies, which meant he had to convince disruptive student participants to stay in class (per individual interview). For example, when Green wanted to leave class with his friends and became disruptive to accomplish his goal, Mr. Glass’s voice tone came across as disconcerting sarcasm, implying punishment within a context of pleading—Do not go, just stay, sit! Sit! Stay! Please. Come back in here. Green consented unwillingly.
Green tried to undermine Mr. Glass’s coercive agreement arguing—I don’t want to stay here, why not, can I go to detention? Mr. Glass stated—No, I really don’t care what you want, stay one more time and then things would be back to normal. Green’s friends who did not belong in the class and were leaving told Green—Do not get suspended, just chill out and stay—giving Green reasons to stay to maintain identity with them. Mr. Glass told Green—You will do work like Derrick, Thursday it will be normal in here, this is the last videorecording session.
With his friends’ support, Green could maintain identity and stay in class; he consented under duress but asked Mr. Glass to let him go to detention. Mr. Glass issued a coercive contract—Stay once more and we’ll be done with the study, no, I don’t care what you think, I’m the authority and you will stay or I will write you up. Mr. Glass validated students who agreed to play the school game of obeying the teacher, in this instance, stay for the study. Through his resistance, Green maintained identity and an interactively established contract with his friends who told him—Stay so you don’t get suspended. Derrick consented and waited silently. Green finally consented and was silent.
Cultural power
In Mr. Glass’s classroom, cultural power was always at play, recognizable when Mr. Glass’s classroom relationship expectations failed to win recognition or fulfill a universal interest to students in his classroom. Mr. Glass kicked students out routinely and immediately when they disrupted. Trying to convince Green with a coercive contract to stay for the study after he became disruptive neither appeared nor sounded genuine. Once Green settled down and quietly played the game of school according to the interests of the teacher, his demeanor showed that cultural power was at play. When students did not fully recognize or maintain their own identity or agency within classroom relationship expectations, they consented to pursue their ultimate goal of not getting suspended. Mr. Glass coercively claimed how he taught and how students would learn with his help. Students played the role of students who needed help because of Mr. Glass’s enforced cultural power (see Figure 1 for summary of findings from interactive power analysis).
Exclusionary school discipline practices mediated through power relations.
Conclusion and Implications
Cultural power was less at play in classrooms characterized by rare exclusionary discipline because teachers decided beforehand to prevent suspension by not relying on written referrals. Students shared the ultimate goal of not getting suspended. In classrooms characterized by rare exclusionary discipline, teachers rarely or never used coercion and consistently used normative power and interactively established contracts. The teacher who never used exclusionary discipline used charm. The resulting combination of power relations mediated classroom interactions both outweighed cultural power and encouraged students’ agency and identity development.
Alternatively, cultural power was more in play in classrooms with frequent exclusionary discipline because teachers decided beforehand to rely on written referrals when students did not consent to their classroom relationship expectations. In classrooms characterized by frequent exclusionary discipline, neither teacher used charm. The teacher who often wrote referrals usually used coercion, inconsistently used normative power, and continually used interactively established contracts, which gave students mixed messages about developing agency and identities in class. The teacher who always wrote referrals continually used normative power, explicitly and immediately used coercive power, and did not use interactively established contracts, which gave students few options except to play the school game. The resulting combination of power relations mediated classroom interactions both supported cultural power and discouraged students’ agency and identity development (see Table 2).
Types of Power in Classrooms Characterized by Frequent Versus Rare Exclusionary Discipline.
Note. Normative power = holding a higher position in the culture or society, coercive power = forcing obedience after threatening punishment, interactively established contracts = negotiating based on an implicit level of understanding between participants, and charm = using one’s personality.
Discipline
Teachers’ discipline goals influenced the mediation of power relations in each classroom. When the discipline goal was to not write referrals that would result in students’ suspension, teachers combined types of power that reaped that goal. When the discipline goal was to write referrals that would result in students’ suspension if classroom relationship expectations were not agreed on by students, teachers combined types of power that reaped that goal. Providing teachers with professional development opportunities to rethink discipline goals before interacting with students may help reduce teachers’ reliance on exclusionary discipline practices.
Ideology
Dominant ideology influenced all of the teachers’ classroom relationship expectations. However, exclusionary discipline practices varied by how power relations mediated ideology. Teachers who rarely or never wrote referrals did not expect passivity from students. The teacher who always wrote referrals always expected passivity from students. The teacher who frequently wrote referrals encouraged competition and passivity, which gave students mixed messages about her classroom relationship expectations. Providing teachers with professional development opportunities to understand and reflect on the potential (a) disadvantages of dominant ideology in classroom relationship expectations, and (b) benefits of transformative ideology, teaching, and classroom management practices may reduce teachers’ reliance on exclusionary discipline practices.
Culture
Culture was viewed by all four teachers as students’ static identities rather than as social practices. That is, teachers had preconceived notions of students’ abilities and identities. Teachers who rarely or never used written referrals to prevent students’ suspension believed that students deserved a chance to succeed. Both teachers encouraged students’ agency and identity development to a point. Both teachers recognized oppressive exclusionary school discipline conditions but were not necessarily empowered to make changes. Accordingly, even in the classroom with the least coercive power, students were not necessarily empowered.
On the other hand, teachers who frequently or always wrote referrals to suspend students if they would not consent to classroom relationship expectations believed that students were unlikely to change. One teacher who often wrote referrals believed that if she could figure out which counseling technique worked, students could get along better. The teacher who always wrote referrals believed that students in the disciplinary alternative school were bad, not able to change, and made bad choices with deserving bad consequences. Neither teacher considered encouraging students’ agency and identity development. Providing teachers with professional development opportunities to critique conflicting definitions of culture, pedagogy, and behavior may reduce teachers’ reliance on exclusionary discipline practices.
Delimitations, Limitations, and Future Directions
This study focused on how power was mediated in classroom interactions with students from nondominant racial backgrounds who have been suspended or expelled disproportionately from their regular urban school. Classrooms and participants were selected from a typical disciplinary alternative school in southeastern United States. Therefore, results do not necessarily generalize to other populations from other disciplinary alternative schools in other school districts. The allotted time frame for the study limited data collection and analysis.
Future directions for research include explicitly linking and synthesizing extant urban education literature to find ways of transforming exclusionary school discipline practices. Building from this study, researchers can further explore how teachers’ discipline goals, ideology, and views of culture mediate power relations, classroom relationship expectations, and student agency and identity development and, thereby, impact exclusionary discipline practices. Longitudinal critical ethnographic research methods will alleviate time frame limitations; more in-depth data collection and analysis will increase researchers’ insights into how teachers use power in the classroom to avoid or support exclusionary school discipline practices to find ways of transforming them.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed the receipt the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Research for this article was supported in part through both a Florida International University Graduate School Doctoral Evidence Acquisition Fellowship and a Florida International University Graduate School Dissertation Year Fellowship.