“I Was Very Impressed”: Responses of Surprise to Students of Color Engaged in Youth Participatory Action Research

Educational Inequity

Educational inequity of resources and experiences in urban schools is a phenomenon that YPAR often seeks to address. Often overshadowed in the media and academia by an outsized focus on the so-called “achievement gap,” this inequity, including systemic racism and other forms of oppression, is reflected in the lopsided distribution of educational resources along race and class lines (Milner IV, 2013). For instance, schools serving working-class Students of Color on average have more unqualified teachers than schools serving predominantly White students or middle-class students (Adamson & Darling-Hammond, 2011; Darling-Hammond, 2004). Also, working-class students and Students of Color are more likely to experience teacher turnover than their peers (Loeb, Darling-Hammond, & Luczak, 2005). Another aspect of inequity is related to curriculum. Some groups of Students of Color and working-class students are systematically denied adequate access to the challenging curriculum that is necessary for college preparation (Darling-Hammond, 2004, 2010; Freelon, Bertrand, & Rogers, 2012). In addition, working-class students and Students of Color more often attend overcrowded and underfunded schools than their White and/or more affluent peers (Adamson & Darling-Hammond, 2012; Freelon et al., 2012). Unfortunately, these conditions can negatively affect student achievement (Ronfeldt, Loeb, & Wyckoff, 2013; Welsh, Coghlan, Fuller, & Dauter, 2012).

YPAR

YPAR entails a collective approach to conducting research that centralizes the perspectives of youth, particularly those who are marginalized along lines of race, gender, class, sexual orientation, and other axes. YPAR aims to place youth in co-leadership roles with adults (Cammarota & Fine, 2008; Rodríguez & Brown, 2009; Torre & Fine, 2006). YPAR often seeks to address educational inequity at a local level, as reflected in one of its pillars, the conduct of transformative research that can improve the lives of youth (Rodríguez & Brown, 2009).

Researchers have shown the benefits of YPAR and similar approaches to youth engagement to the students involved in such programs (de los Ríos, López, & Morrell, 2015; Hipolito-Delgado & Zion, 2015; Mirra, Garcia, & Morrell, 2015; Mirra, Morrell, Cain, Scorza, & Ford, 2013), and a growing body of research is exploring the possible broader benefits of YPAR to schools and beyond. These broader benefits hinge upon the often critical analyses of power that YPAR yields, which are grounded in participants’ research of their lived experiences (Cammarota, 2011; Cammarota & Fine, 2008; Duncan-Andrade & Morrell, 2008; Mirra et al., 2015; Stoudt, Fox, & Fine, 2012). The research highlighting the transformative potential of YPAR beyond the student level has pointed to the ways it has enriched discourse on school improvement and helped teachers and educational leaders make better-informed decisions (Bertrand & Ford, 2015; Irizarry, 2011; Irizarry & Welton, 2014; Kirshner & Pozzoboni, 2011; Morrell, 2006). Some scholarship has suggested that YPAR can be especially potent when generated by Students of Color and other marginalized students, due to their experiential knowledge (Bautista, Bertrand, Morrell, Scorza, & Matthews, 2013; Quijada Cerecer et al., 2013; Rodríguez & Brown, 2009; Torre & Fine, 2006).

Adult Expectations and Perceptions of Youth

Even though scholarship has pointed to the potential of YPAR to create change, there is still more to learn about the ways in which adult expectations and perceptions of youth may influence the realization of this potential. Some of the research on approaches to youth engagement—including student voice and youth–adult partnership initiatives—indicates that adults may characterize youth in negative terms, as, for instance, sources of worry (Camino & Zeldin, 2002), deviants (Conner & Rosen), or incompetent citizens (Zeldin, Camino, & Calvert, 2007). These negative perceptions may be the reason why some studies have shown that adults are not always receptive to youth’s ideas and may position them in ways that can constrain or otherwise influence their participation (Conner & Rosen, 2015; Kirshner, 2015; Mitra, 2005, 2006). For instance, a study of youth serving on a school district committee revealed what I have termed the discourse of surprise when committee members responded with awe to students’ insightful remarks (Zeldin et al., 2007).

A simple consideration of the youth–adult dynamic, however, obscures the pushback that Students of Color in YPAR groups and other youth engagement approaches may face as they challenge racism and other forms of oppression, as illustrated in several studies (see, for example, Cammarota & Romero, 2011; Kirshner, 2015; Torre & Fine, 2011). The literature on teacher expectations is also instructive in understanding how the perceived race and class of youth in YPAR may influence adults’ reception of them. Studies indicate that teachers often have low expectations for working-class students and some groups of Students of Color, which can negatively influence student outcomes (Jussim & Harber, 2005; McKown & Weinstein, 2008). This research suggests that expectations could influence adult decision makers to respond differently to different groups of students engaged in YPAR, depending on the students’ race.

In summary, some literature suggests that YPAR could serve as a tool to challenge systemic racism and classism in education and facilitate change. However, adults’ expectations and perceptions of students could influence their responses to YPAR. In that the discourse of surprise is a response that entails a mismatch of reality and expectations, it may play a key role in shaping the transformative potential of YPAR. In examining this phenomenon, this article begins to shed light on ways to enhance the influence of YPAR by exploring one of its possible impediments.

Context

At the time I joined the Council of Youth Research, in the summer of 2010, the program, begun by Ernest Morrell and John Rogers, had been active for just over a decade (Bautista et al., 2013; Morrell & Rogers, 2006; J. Rogers, Morrell, & Enyedy, 2007). A new book by Mirra et al. (2015) provides a comprehensive look at the activities of the Council during the same time period as that of the study discussed in this article. Connected to a university, the program trained high school Students of Color to become critical researchers of education conditions through the support of a racially diverse group of adults, including academics, alumni of the Council, K-12 teachers, and university professors. The high school student members—about 30 Black and Latina/o youth attending five urban high schools—were recruited by the teachers based on interest, not academic standing. As a White woman, I had the good fortune to be in the racial minority among both the students and adults of the group, providing me with opportunities to reflect on my position of racial privilege and how it affected my perceptions of and interactions with the group.

The Council program entailed an intensive Summer Seminar in addition to a school-year component. During the Summer Seminar, students and adults met five days a week, for about eight hours a day, for five weeks. At the beginning of the seminar, the adults taught the students about critical sociological theories and research methods, and introduced the overarching research topic: the educational changes or lack thereof in the 10 years following the 2000 Williams v. State of California law suit, which argued that educational resources were distributed inequitably. Legislation resulting from the case mandated that all students have access to instructional materials, clean and safe facilities, and qualified teachers. The five subgroups of the Council each chose a different research topic related to one of the foci of the Williams case—technology, quality leadership, rigorous curriculum, the school environment, and quality teachers—and crafted research questions.

In the Summer Seminar, the students, with adult guidance, collected data (including surveys and videotaped interviews), analyzed the data, arrived at findings, and formulated demands for changes. In general, the students found that educational resources were often inadequate and still inequitably distributed 10 years after the Williams case. Specifically, some of their findings include the following:

The students presented these findings in the form of PowerPoint presentations, verbal reports, and short documentaries at a presentation at City Hall, similar to the one I had attended in 2008.

During the ensuing school year, the students continued the research they had begun in the summer, attending weekly subgroup meetings at the five high schools and monthly whole-group meetings at a university. Toward the end of the year, the students presented their research at a total of 10 events, attracting audiences of principals, teachers, school district administrators, staff members of elected officials, community members, and researchers.

In both the Summer Seminar and the school-year component, the Council was characterized by dynamic and close relationships among the members of the Council (Mirra et al., 2015). This is not to say that conflict did not arise within the Council; however, the nature of the Council—entailing joint work on meaningful equity issues and prolonged time together—resulted in friendships and ever-increasing trust among and between adults and students. Many students referred to the Council as a family (Mirra et al., 2015). Also, the Council was the site of students’ learning and changing participation, as they explored critical social theories, conducted research on equity issues, and challenged structural inequity. As one student told me, “What keeps me in the Council is, well, I know I’m making a change.”

In this article, I refer mainly to two Council events: a presentation at a community center and a presentation at a national education research conference held in another state. In both arenas, the subgroups of students presented the same research findings in separate segments of an overall presentation. The community center event attracted a full house of predominantly Latina/o and Black parents, teachers, educational administrators, and community members, and was held in the center’s spacious meeting room. The audience members, who had been invited to the event by members of the Council, applauded enthusiastically following each segment of the presentation and sometimes murmured words of agreement.

In contrast to the community center context, the presentation at the education conference was held in a large hotel ballroom. Stationed in different corners of the room were clusters of chairs facing portable screens to accommodate several YPAR groups from around the country presenting simultaneously. The Council presented from one of these areas. Probably because of the early-morning time slot, attendance was somewhat sparse; however, the Council’s corner still managed to attract about 20 individuals—a racially diverse collection of researchers, graduate students, and educational practitioners.

Data Collection and Analysis

As stated above, I address the following research questions:

In both questions, the discourse of surprise should be understood as that which is related specifically to the Council. The present study, in which I address these research questions, was part of a larger study in which I focused broadly on the evolution of the Council students’ discourse and its influence on decision makers. In the present study, as in the broader study, I employed a research design incorporating ethnographic methods (Anderson-Levitt, 2006) and select components of CDA (Fairclough, 2003). The ethnographic methods allowed me to develop understandings of complex local situations and processes (Anderson-Levitt, 2006), while the components of CDA provided a microlevel lens to examine discourse.

My data collection approach aligned with the research design in that I was embedded in the Council during the 2010-2011 school year, collecting field notes (for ethnographic analysis) and audio- and video-recordings (for both ethnographic and discourse analyses). I attended seven whole-group Council meetings and 48 subgroup meetings. For each meeting, I prepared detailed, typed field notes based on “jottings” in the field (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 1995). In addition, I audio- or video-recorded 19 of the meetings, creating for each an audio or video log—a summary of occurrences for every 5 min of recording (Derry et al., 2010). In addition, I attended eight Council events, writing field notes for each and, for most of them, recording audio or video, which I later logged.

Following events, I sought out event attendees to schedule interviews, specifically targeting educational decision makers (i.e., individuals in formal positions through which educational changes can be enacted, including teachers, principals, school board members, district administrators, university researchers, and teacher educators). Before and during events, I often asked colleagues and acquaintances to point out such people in the audience. In addition, many of these individuals I already knew due to my presence at some of the schools associated with the Council. The main way that I recruited decision makers was by approaching them immediately after the end of an event. I would quickly introduce myself to ask if I could contact them at a later date for an interview about what they thought of the Council’s presentation(s). I then aimed to schedule interviews to occur within approximately two weeks of the event that a given decision maker had attended. Another recruitment method involved asking acquaintances who had attended an event to connect me with decision makers who had also been in attendance. In these cases, I reached out via email for the initial contact. Finally, at the conference, I approached audience members right after a given presentation had ended and asked if they could be interviewed on the spot.

I conducted 38 interviews with 29 individuals who attended presentations. ³ Those who were interviewed more than once had attended more than one presentation, with each interview closely following the date of presentation. Of the 29 individuals, 26 were educational decision makers: two principals; one professional developer of principals; 19 teachers, 17 of whom taught at one of the five high schools connected to Council; one community college administrator; two doctoral students; and one other, an attendee of the educational research conference, whose profession I was unable to capture. Of the 26 decision makers, 13 were women and 13 were men. The racial/ethnic breakdown ⁴ of the interviewees was two African American decision makers, one Asian American decision maker, 10 Latina/o decision makers, and 13 White decision makers. For confidentiality reasons, I am unable to identify individual decision makers by race or ethnicity in my discussion of the findings. When interviewing these decision makers, I followed a semi-structured interview protocol that covered four topics: (a) contact with the Council and perceptions of it, (b) perceptions of the goals of the Council, (c) perceptions of the possible influence of the Council on the educational decision maker being interviewed, (d) perceptions of the possible influence of the Council on others and/or educational change. I created a log for each interview and transcribed pertinent excerpts. In addition to drawing upon these interviews for this article, I look to decision makers’ video-recorded comments and questions to Council students in the question-and-answer periods in presentations. I considered these comments and questions in this article even if I did not interview the individuals who produced them.

My approach to analysis entailed both ethnographic and CDA elements. I imported field notes, interview transcripts and interview logs, and logs of meetings and events into Atlas.ti coding software. In the first cycle of coding, I used “initial” and “structural” coding (Saldaña, 2009) to locate both a priori and emerging themes. During this cycle, I used and created codes to capture topics of discourse within the Council, practices within the Council, and decision makers’ responses to the Council. For the third category, the most relevant to this article, I coded for the following phenomena, among others: (a) mentions of looking to the Council as a model, (b) deficit ideology, (c) impacts and reported change, (d) a negative or lukewarm response, (e) an emotional response, (f) reports of telling others about the Council, and (g) surprise at students’ achievements. In the second cycle of coding, I redefined my original code of “surprise at students’ achievements,” this time coding instances of the discourse of surprise that I had overlooked. I then categorized the instances outside of the software by the object of surprise: students’ (a) capacity as researchers, (b) professionalism, and (c) motivation. This categorization allowed me to address my first research question, about the decision makers’ expectations, in that each object of surprise reflects a preconception.

After the coding process was complete, I analyzed each instance of the discourse of surprise, focusing on the ways in which the three tenets of CDA unfolded through the word and topic choices of the decision makers. All three tenets are related to one another, meaning that the group of them, taken as a whole, influenced my analysis, but I describe them here for explanatory purposes. The first tenet—about how discourse helps enact power relations—guided me to note how decision makers discursively positioned themselves and the Council students, and the extent to which they valued the students’ knowledge and/or naturalized stereotypes and the status quo. The second tenet, which addresses the constitutive nature of discourse, like the first tenet, pointed me toward an analysis of how decision makers constructed their own and others’ social positions. Finally, the third tenet, about how discourse can be either or both transformative or reproductive, led me to investigate the ways that decision makers either challenged or legitimated the status quo. This CDA-informed analysis allowed me to address my second research question as to how the discourse of surprise shaped possibilities for reproduction and/or transformation.

Council Students’ Discourse

The Council students’ presentations both directly and indirectly critiqued inequalities in education and called on audience members to take action. A CDA perspective suggests that their discourse entailed transformative potential. During the study period, the students’ discourse—stemming from their findings—focused on their relative lack of access to rigorous and culturally relevant curriculum, the crumbling condition of their schools, the outdated technology at the schools, and more.

The discourse of Melissa, ⁵ a Council member and high school student, was representative of the students’ discourse generally at the events. At the community center event, she compared poor-quality curriculum and pedagogy with raw food, implying that teachers should do more than simply present content. Several minutes later, she made this appeal:

Referring back to the metaphor I said earlier about present curriculum being dehumanizing, we want you to understand, we give animals raw food. We give animals slop. We prepare nutritious and aesthetically pleasing dishes for humans, and that is powerful curriculum. And that is where we need you to start the reform.

Through this appeal, Melissa used a potent metaphor to spur decision makers to ensure that students have access what she called “powerful curriculum.” This concept, which was (re)formed and defined in Council meetings and interviews, was explained at the community center event as entailing (a) “acknowledging students’ culture,” (b) placing students in roles as “active participants in teaching and learning,” and (c) pedagogy that was “challenging for all types of learners.”

As the theoretical elements of CDA would suggest, the students’ discourse served to disrupt dominant discourses that blame Students of Color for inequitable outcomes in comparison with White students. Instead, the Council students shined a light on the deplorable conditions at their schools and called for system-wide change. An analysis using the tenets of CDA (Fairclough, 1992, 1995, 2011) indicates that the students enacted power with their discourse, through which they responded to the inequitable social structure and reenvisioned it, thereby creating spaces for transformation. By challenging deficit understandings of Students of Color and calling attention to the systemic nature of inequalities, the Council members joined other voices of resistance across time and space.

The students themselves voiced this understanding of their discourse as potentially transformative. For instance, one student, Knowledge, voiced his hopes—along with worries—about how teachers would react to a workshop he co-led at his high school, which was designed to help teachers implement powerful curriculum. In an interview before the event, he said,

[I hope] that teachers learn from us . . . We’re not little kids trying to impress them. We’re actually as high as they are like in teaching. Like, we would teach like they can and maybe even better because of what we’re doing. How is that a powerful curriculum? I hope they take [it] into consideration, use it in their methods. Hopefully they’re pretty impressed. And I mean I don’t want to go in there with them thinking, “Oh, look at these poor kids,” and all that. Like, I don’t want them to feel sorry for me.

Several minutes later, he added, “Knowing how the teachers are at this school, most of them will be surprised of what we’re capable of.”

In this quote, Knowledge made it clear that he hoped teachers would “learn from us” and consider using powerful curriculum “in their methods” as a result of attending the workshop. As the first tenet of CDA would suggest (Fairclough, 1992), Knowledge seemed to view the Council’s discourse as a way to subvert teacher–student hierarchies. However, he was aware of the constraints of the social structure on the discourse, described in the second CDA tenet, as shown in his comment about whether the teachers would take the students seriously or view them as “poor kids.” Interestingly, he noted the possibility of the teachers’ surprise and, somewhat contradicting his earlier sentiment, he said he hoped the teachers would be “pretty impressed.” With this comment, Knowledge appeared to connect what could be called the discourse of surprise with the possibility for transformation.

Surprise at Students’ Capacity as Researchers

One of the types of discourses of surprise that Knowledge and the other Council students encountered entailed surprise at their capacity as researchers. When decision makers expressed this form of surprise, they cited the social science theories the students used and the quality of their research. As in adult research presentations, the students discussed their theoretical frameworks and research methodologies, both of which had been cultivated in conjunction with Council adults. Some of the theories the students used included Solórzano and Delgado Bernal’s (2001) concept of transformative resistance; Gramsci, Hoare, and Nowell-Smith’s (1971) concept of organic leadership; and Freire’s (1993) concept of banking education. The students’ methodologies, as discussed above, included interviews, surveys, and statistics from databases (Bautista et al., 2013; Mirra et al., 2015; Morrell, 2006). A CDA perspective would suggest that, in voicing surprise at the students’ capacity as researchers, decision makers revealed their prior expectations about the youth and (re)positioned themselves hierarchically in relation to the students within the existing social structure.

A comment from Karen, a researcher who attended the presentation at the conference, exemplified this type of discourse of surprise. In an interview following the presentation, she said, “I was impressed with their use of theory to describe what they see in their community and their familiarity with the vocabulary of some of the academic language we learned at grad school.” ⁶ She added that she learned about theorists from the students and wanted to “look into” some of them, such as Gramsci. However, Karen did not mention any of the students’ research findings, even when asked to indicate moments of the presentation that stood out.

In the interview, Karen made clear the target of her surprise—the students’ use of theory and their academic vocabulary. Her surprise indicated that she had not expected the students to use certain academic terminology and discuss theory as they did. A clue to understanding how her expectations may have shaped her discourse of surprise can be found in her reference to “grad school.” In suggesting that the students employed the academic language of graduate school just after mentioning their use of theory, the researcher seemed to imply that, in both arenas, the Council students had engaged in graduate-level academic work. The source of her surprise, then, stemmed from the seemingly incongruous nature of high school students engaged in graduate-level research. What the quote does not illustrate, however, is whether her surprise was due to the students’ formal role (as students and not researchers) or to stereotypes about Students of Color or working-class students specifically. Regardless, in voicing this surprise and revealing her expectations, she reentrenched the inequitable social structure by positioning the students as unlikely researchers. Karen’s interview suggests that the response of surprise diverted attention away from the messages that the Council students were trying to convey. In this case, the discourse of surprise could be viewed as having a partly reproductive rather than transformative function, in that Karen did not acknowledge or consider the Council students’ transformative discourse. However, as shown especially by her comments about learning from the students, she may also have gained new views of the capabilities of high school students generally or working-class high school Students of Color specifically, which could be transformative.

Several other interviewees made statements similar to those of Karen; however, this type of discourse of surprise may have been more common than the interview data illustrate. A principal, Steven, and a teacher, Luis, who each observed a different presentation at the same high school, mentioned that their colleagues were surprised at the students’ research. Steven said, “I think that the ones that I’ve talked to were, were really impressed by the students, yeah, by their research. I think a couple commented on the theories that they were citing and how they really seemed to understand.” The principal’s comment echoed that of the researcher at the conference in mentioning the theories the students discussed. Luis made a similar comment when I asked him what other teachers thought of the presentation they had seen. He said, “My sense is that, the fact that for some of the students are doing that kind of stuff, I think teachers are really, you know, impressed. They’re like, ‘Wow, these kids are, did a lot of research’.”

An analysis using the three tenets of CDA suggests that the discourse of surprise at the students’ research may have, in part, helped reproduce the educational status quo (Fairclough, 1992, 1995). First, it may have diverted attention away from the students’ potentially transformative research findings. Second, this type of discourse of surprise indexed ideologies about access to knowledge and may have served to shore up the boundaries of this access. Third, it may have helped sustain meanings about who does or should produce knowledge. By invoking this discourse, the interviewees positioned students generally or working-class Students of Color specifically as unlikely consumers and producers of academic scholarship, thereby potentially undergirding the existing inequitable social structure. The degree to which this type of discourse of surprise would have a reproductive function would depend upon whether decision makers viewed the Council as representative of students in general or as exceptional. In the former case, but not the latter, the discourse of surprise could signal a potentially transformative disruption.

Surprise at Students’ Professionalism

The discourse of surprise at the students’ professionalism may also have helped reproduce and maintain the status quo (Fairclough, 1995). When decision makers commented on the Council students’ professionalism, they often mentioned the students’ public speaking skills or cited professionalism in general. Such comments, made from the perspective of an evaluator, appeared to reproduce the existing power differences between the students and interviewees. However, such discourse did not preclude certain interviewees from also voicing more transformative discourse.

The discourse of Jerry, a teacher at a school that several Council members attended, illustrates this complexity. He had gone to the event at the community center and spoke with me several days later. Here is an excerpt of our conversation:

A CDA-informed analysis suggests that Jerry’s commentary may have served a reproductive function (Fairclough, 1995). He enacted power by discursively positioning himself in the role of evaluator of the Council members’ “poise,” “professionalism,” and “public speaking” skills. In addition to the overall evaluation implied by his being “impressed,” he commented that some students “spoke super well,” whereas “others were super, super nervous.”

Also, Jerry positioned himself as a teacher and the Council members as primarily students, rather than researchers, indicating the ways that discourse can be used to solidify social relationships and identities, thereby serving to (re)constitute social structures (Fairclough, 1992). The most obvious indicator of this positioning was his discussion of other teachers and his own classroom. After citing the students’ “poise and professionalism” as what stood out from the presentation, he immediately turned to a discussion of his classroom practices: “I try to do the same thing again in my classes.” The semantic leap was from a consideration of the actions of the Council members to the teaching practices that could promote such actions. From here, he launched a discussion about his belief that teachers should focus on “character building” in addition to content, and compared himself with a perhaps hypothetical science teacher who failed to see the value in such a focus. Tellingly, after emphasizing the importance of teachers instructing students on “how to dress professionally, how to conduct yourself professionally, how to speak to an audience, [and] public speaking,” he returned to the topic of the Council presentation with the word “so,” used to mean “consequently.” The subtext, then, would be something like this: “I think it is important for students to learn to act professionally, and for this reason, I was impressed with the Council students’ professionalism.” It is clear, then, that he was evaluating the students through the eyes of a teacher.

Jerry’s commentary indicates that his expectations for the Council members’ “professionalism” were lower than what he observed at the community center event. We could surmise that he is unused to high school students generally or working-class Students of Color specifically acting in ways that are normatively associated with professionalism. Indeed, he expressed the need to teach students—conceivably those at his school, home to a majority of Latina/o students—“How to conduct yourself professionally.” Ultimately, however, the source of his preconceived expectations remains unclear.

In summary, Jerry’s commentary illustrates how the discourse of surprise at students’ professionalism may serve to enact and reentrench inequitable power relations, as suggested by the use of a CDA lens (Fairclough, 1992). Also, such discourse could divert attention away from the content of the presentations, as perhaps illustrated by the fact that most decision makers who voiced this discourse did not discuss the students’ messages. However, for Jerry, this was not the case. In fact, shortly after voicing the quote above, he described how the Council members spurred him to reflect upon his classroom practices. It is possible that being impressed with the students’ professionalism encouraged him to take more seriously the content of the event. These considerations indicate that the discourse of surprise at students’ professionalism may serve a reproductive function in some cases and a transformative function in others.

Surprise at Students’ Motivation

Several decision makers expressed surprise at the students’ motivation. However, these instances were varied, suggesting that this kind of discourse had reproductive functions but not always to the same degree. In another article (Bertrand, 2014), I describe an instance that seemed the most reproductive. A female high school teacher expressed great surprise, even using that word, at the Council members’ “work ethic” several days after a subgroup of members—those who attended her school—gave a presentation during a weekly staff meeting. Voicing the assumed thoughts of a hypothetical student, she said, “I don’t want to waste my summer doing school things.” She continued,

But I guess since it was not high school and extra Council work, it was a little more relaxed. And I’m glad to see the dedication that kids stayed up to like 4 a.m. I think that’s amazing. Great work ethic.

Her remark followed her discussion of how the “Hispanic” students at her school, depending on their generation in the United States, did not “really see the value in high school.” Interestingly, the Council members who presented at the staff meeting were all Latina/o students. Obviously, the Council students’ presentation did not alter her existing deficit-oriented expectations of the students at her school. The discourse of surprise instead allowed her to position the Council students as exceptional, unlike other Students of Color, thereby bolstering her viewpoint. A consideration of the three CDA tenets (Fairclough, 1992, 1995) indicates that her discourse of surprise helped reproduce the inequitable status quo by characterizing Students of Color as the causes of educational inequity, thereby justifying this inequity.

Other instances of surprise at students’ motivation, however, were less straightforward. Gilbert, a middle school teacher who had attended the Council presentation at the national conference, provided such an example. During a question-and-answer period following the presentation, he asked,

This obviously took time, effort. Took you away from your friends . . ., all the fun. What is it, what is it about your experience that led you to choose to make the sacrifices that you had to make to do this work?

In this statement, Gilbert characterized involvement in the Council as entailing hardship. He contrasted the “time” and “effort” required of the Council with “friends” and “all the fun,” implying that the two were mutually exclusive. He also framed the Council work as entailing “sacrifices.” This suggests that he had not expected evidence of such hard work.

In some ways, Gilbert’s discourse of surprise may appear unremarkable, in that it aligned with societal norms that place high school students in the role of engaging in academic work only to complete assignments and earn grades. However, in drawing upon these norms, he reified them and concurrently characterized the Council students as extraordinary. The reification of these norms is also evident when considering that Gilbert’s question would have been unusual at a presentation involving adult researchers. The question he asked helped concretize the sharp social distinction between student and adult researchers while also positioning students generally or Students of Color specifically as uninterested in hard work. In this way, his question illustrated how discourse is a tool of power that can be used to reify existing inequitable social structures (Fairclough, 1992).

Gilbert’s question, then, did not focus on the content of the students’ presentation but on the students themselves. This point was not lost on the students, and one, Bernarda, explicitly sought to change the focus in her response to him. She said,

We, we might be missing our fun, our friends. But there’s one thing that we’re actually missing, and that’s our education. Where is our education? Where is it at? And this is what we are here for, to save our education, to get a better education. That’s what we are here for. That’s what I want to change. To get a better education for me and everybody else in my school in my community and in my family.

Here, Bernarda challenged Gilbert’s positioning of the Council students by bringing the focus back to the presentation content—the urgency of improving educational opportunities for those in her school and community, home to a majority of Black and Latina/o students and residents, respectively. She did not answer Gilbert’s question, and, by changing the focus, implied that his question was unimportant or even inappropriate.

While Gilbert’s question during the presentation suggests that his discourse of surprise entailed some reproductive aspects, his interview with me paints a more complex picture. In the interview, he again expressed surprise at the students’ motivation, but he also spoke about the inherent value of his own students’ lives. He said that the Council presentation gave him ideas about how to interact with his students:

I’m coming out of this with some ideas about how to approach them, validating their own experiences. That the life that they live is, it’s not only valuable, but it is positive, inherent. That they do not begin from a place of deficit. You actually begin from a place of empowerment because you own that.

In this explanation, Gilbert may have alluded to the content of the presentation—which included references to the students’ lived experiences—in arguing against a deficit perspective of his own students. This indicates that the Council’s discourse may have served a transformative function in this case. After this comment, though, he returned to the discourse of surprise at the students’ motivation. Here is a snippet of our conversation:

In this quotation, Gilbert twice suggested that I might construe his commentary in a negative light. (He, as with all interviewees, knew that I was a representative of the Council.) Before making his point, he said, “I’m going to have to qualify this,” a phrase that served to mitigate what followed. In the second instance, he said “not to offend.” These two phrases indicate that he understood his commentary to be potentially provocative. And what, then, could I have construed as such? His point was that he was “struck” (or surprised) that the Council students were “well rehearsed” and “had done the work.” His comment in the interview, then, provides a source of triangulation for my assertions about his question in the presentation. Both the interview comment and the question indicate that Gilbert had not expected the students to put in the effort that would be required to give a polished research presentation.

Shaped by his prior expectations, Gilbert’s discourse, as viewed through the lens of CDA (Fairclough, 1992, 1995), appeared to reinforce inequity in schools and society by characterizing students generally or working-class Students of Color specifically as lacking motivation, and therefore responsible for the very social structures that harm them. However, Gilbert was unique among those who voiced the discourse of surprise, in that he recognized the negative connotations of it. Also, his commentary was fairly complex, in that he explicitly argued for viewing his students’ lives as valuable while also suggesting that the Council students’ motivation was unusual. In this way, the apparent reproductive functions of his discourse of surprise were tempered by his metacognition about this discourse along with his support for viewing his own students’ lives as valuable.