Abstract
This descriptive case study superimposed Effectuation Theory onto the experiences of an American music educator and the challenges and opportunities facing him in an economically disadvantaged teaching context. Luke Guerra, the primary participant, possessed 11 years of teaching experience in an underserved urban middle school. His military experience, lack of canonical content knowledge, social activism, and exclusive use of popular music set him apart from conventional music educators. Data collection comprised semi-structured interviews with the participant and his colleagues, direct observation and documentation of the participant’s teaching, logging of researcher memos, and analysis of artifacts and participant reflections. Four themes emerged from inductive analysis that suggested the salience of Effectuation Theory: (a) teaching ethos informed by unique personal circumstances; (b) embracing uncertainty; (c) socially conscious, student-centered teaching and learning; and (d) collaboration. Rather than allowing the limitations of his teaching context and knowledge gaps to exert control over his program, Luke created an alternative future by leveraging his means and limitations into a vision around which others could rally and invest. Luke’s story and its connections to the principles of Effectuation may provide transferable benefits to music educators working in teaching contexts hindered by uncertainty.
Keywords
Scant research exists illuminating how music teachers go about creating exemplary educational experiences in resource-constrained environments—especially underserved schools. 1 Yet, every year, enterprising music teachers develop ways to overcome or circumvent inadequacies of time, funding, scheduling, and administrative and parental support. A handful of scholars have described the process of creatively adapting musical activities, expectations, and outcomes to local conditions as “contextually-specific” (Fitzpatrick-Harnish, 2015), “place-conscious” (Stauffer, 2009), and “intrapreneurial” (Hanson, 2017) music teaching. Abril (2014) addressed this phenomenon in a call for teacher education that prepares future music teachers “to be nimble and able to respond to changes in the educational and music landscapes in which they will find themselves” (p. 179). These issues nest within a more developed body of research on urban music education (Doyle, 2014; Eros, 2018; Frierson-Campbell, 2006) that explicates the need for new paradigms that are socially just yet non-prescriptive (Gaztambide-Fernández & Rose, 2015), culturally responsive and reflective of a diverse society (Lind & McKoy, 2016), and capable of producing creative and resourceful solutions to challenges found in underserved schools (Fitzpatrick, 2011). As a result, forward-thinking scholars in music education have demonstrated ways these needs can begin to be addressed: by establishing non-traditional programs (Clements, 2010), incorporating digital media (Cremata & Powell, 2017; Tobias, 2013) and vernacular music (L. Green, 2016; Jaffurs, 2004), and reimaging teacher preparation curricula so that it reflects the musical needs, desires, and realities of the modern student (Williams & Randles, 2017).
According to Borasi and Finnigan (2010), educators can become successful change agents through entrepreneurial action: recognizing and seizing opportunities for innovation, taking calculated risks, bootstrapping resources, and generating buy-in among colleagues. The entrepreneurial impulse can arise anywhere on the continuum between opportunity, or the luxury of pursuing promising new ideas amid relative prosperity, and necessity, when conditions dictate change as the only option (Fairlie & Fossen, 2017). Creative recombination of existing resources serves as a hallmark of entrepreneurial thinking (Schumpeter, 1934); in educational contexts, this same idea has been identified as “pedagogical bricolage” or “psychological bricolage” (Hatton, 1989; Sanchez-Burks et al., 2015). In a study of the entrepreneurial behaviors and perceptions of public school music educators, Hanson (2017) discovered that music teachers working in urban contexts exhibited significantly higher confidence in their abilities to combine existing resources in unconventional ways. One established theory of necessity-oriented entrepreneurship is Effectuation Theory (Sarasvathy, 2001b), a collection of principles governing the process of new venture creation in both for-profit (Read & Sarasvathy, 2005) and social/cultural/artistic contexts (Johannisson, 2018; Laaksonen et al., 2010). Effectual thinkers begin with who they are, what they know, and who they know. They think in terms of affordable loss instead of potential gain. Their aim is to use the means at hand to create a new future instead of trying to fulfill a prescribed future by chasing means they do not currently possess.
In a meta-analytic review of Effectuation principles at play in the development of over 9,000 new ventures, Read et al. (2009) established the crucial role of interdependency. They determined that “only those [partnerships] in which both parties share the risk of the venture and benefit from the success of the venture constitute effectual partnerships” (p. 2). Numerous researchers in music education have discussed the positive effects of collaboration in promoting creativity (Sawyer, 2008), instructional relevance (L. Green, 2016), curricular reform (Thornton et al., 2004), and professional development (Stanley, 2011). The ethic of care and interdependence underpinning culturally responsive, socially just teaching (Shevalier & McKenzie, 2012; Whipp, 2013) mirrors aspects of social entrepreneurship: “creating new combinations of people and resources that significantly improve society’s capacity to address problems” (Bornstein & Davis, 2010, p. 1). In short, Effectuation Theory shares a common substructure with central aspects of teaching in high-needs environments, including creativity, adaptability, resourcefulness, and the importance of relationships.
My goal for this research project was to add to the discussion about how music educators teach music in less-than-ideal circumstances and contend with the gap created by “reality shock” (Ballantyne, 2007; Veenman, 1984). A deeper understanding of how an exceptional music teacher working in a difficult context pioneers atypical learning endeavors may enable transfer of insights and best practices to other music education contexts. Furthermore, such an exploration may uncover a distinct aptitude in certain teachers for combining given means in unconventional ways—a hallmark of Effectuation. To that end, the purpose of this intrinsic case study was to describe the experiences of “Luke Guerra” (a pseudonym), an American music teacher working in an underserved urban middle school, using the theoretical lens of Effectuation (Sarasvathy, 2001a). This qualitative inquiry employed two guiding questions:
How does Luke Guerra and his colleagues describe his approach and experiences teaching music in an underserved, resource-constrained environment?
To what extent do the tenets of Effectuation Theory help explain Luke’s teaching approach and experiences?
Theoretical framework
Denzin and Lincoln (2008) describe the interpretive qualitative researcher as a “bricoleur” who produces . . . a pieced-together set of representations that is fitted to the specifics of a complex situation [and] that changes and takes new forms as the bricoleur adds different tools, methods, and techniques of representation and interpretation to the puzzle. (p. 5)
Effectuation Theory (Read et al., 2017; Sarasvathy, 2001b) provided theoretical guideposts for analyzing and interpreting the phenomena under investigation. A meta-theory comprising multiple principles, Effectuation Theory developed out of empirical research on the thought processes that differentiate conventional and innovative approaches to new venture creation (Sarasvathy, 2001a; see Figure 1); that is, the creation of economic, social, or artistic value (W. S. Green, 2005). However, Effectuation is a decision-making logic that transcends its disciplinary origins in the business world. Sarasvathy and other Effectuation researchers posit that the Effectual worldview casts the future as malleable and filled with unforeseen ends while the causal worldview focuses on predetermined targets pursued via prediction and variance reduction. To be sure, these two worldviews likely anchor opposing ends of a thought-process continuum, with the causal mode manifesting more frequently in many professional contexts (Read et al., 2017). The Effectual Process of creativity and new venture development plays out in an iterative cycle, resting upon the foundation this volitional view of the future provides, and further illustrated via four interrelated principles (Sarasvathy, 2001b).
The Effectual Process.
The first, dubbed the “Bird in Hand Principle,” states that the Effectual Process begins with action derived from an individual’s given means: who they are (core values and dispositions), what they know (expertise and experience), and who they know (personal and professional networks). The “Affordable Loss Principle” holds that the new endeavor’s initial constitution is gauged against the acceptability of what it costs to bring it to life instead of by the value it might eventually generate. The third tenet is called the “Lemonade Principle” and involves leveraging contingencies—surprises, mistakes, and early failures—to redirect and reimagine the endeavor flexibly, in the moment (i.e., turning lemons into lemonade). Last, the “Crazy Quilt Principle” eschews competitive analysis and strategic planning in favor of cultivating partnerships that serve to reduce the uncertainty of novel ventures. Effectuation Theory is a well-established framework in business, marketing, and management (Read et al., 2009; Smolka et al., 2016). Researchers have also applied its principles in such disparate fields as tourism (Alsos & Clausen, 2014), biotechnology (Ahn et al., 2015), and the music industry (Laaksonen et al., 2010).
My rationale for using Effectuation Theory as a framework for viewing music teaching stems from my own observations and curiosities regarding its potential alignment with the atypical pedagogical approaches employed by music educators in uncertain teaching contexts. Effectual decision logic is means-driven, non-predictive, and applicable to the arts, so I chose it as a lens through which I might view and understand one music teacher’s practice in a challenging work environment. It is important to acknowledge that Effectuation Theory, which was developed in a business school environment, may be viewed negatively by some scholars who question the neoliberal underpinnings of entrepreneurship applied to the arts (Moore, 2016; Ritchey, 2017). While I believe that Effectual thinking may have broader application beyond capitalist avenues (as do Nytch, 2012; Preece, 2014), Moore and Ritchey’s critiques proved valuable as a check against potential bias. Throughout the study, I sought out disconfirming evidence, or sources of “rival interpretations” and data that “alter what appeared to be primary patterns” (Patton, 2002, p. 239), to hedge against bias. This included reviewing literature prior to and concurrent with data collection to search for alternative frameworks that could more accurately explain the case, as well examining data for conflicting discourses (Antin et al., 2015).
Method
The aims of this qualitative research necessitated a descriptive, intrinsic case study of a critical case (Creswell, 2013; Stake, 1995). Creswell explains that an intrinsic case study circumscribes the scope of inquiry to remain within the limits of the particular case itself, which presents an “unusual or unique situation” (p. 100). Stake (2005) asserted that an intrinsic case study “is not undertaken primarily because the case represents other cases or because it illustrates a particular trait or problem, but instead because, in all its particularity and ordinariness, this case itself is of interest” (p. 445). The primary participant, Luke Guerra, served as the critical case because his background, skills, teaching context, and ability to produce uncommon outcomes were intrinsically unique and worthy of examination. To frame the study, I used an interpretive/constructivist paradigm (Leavy, 2017) in which an inductive approach generated deeper understanding of the meanings individuals ascribe to themselves and their contextualized activities. However, in a departure from typical qualitative inquiry that builds theory largely through inductive analysis, I chose to superimpose the framework of Sarasvathy’s (2001) Effectuation Theory a priori in order to gather and interpret supporting and disconfirming evidence of the Theory’s explanatory value as findings emerged. According to Merriam (2009), using a theoretical framework as a lens to view an otherwise emergent set of phenomena is quite natural in qualitative inquiry. Anfara and Mertz (2006) agree, observing the following: The well-read qualitative researcher is alert to theoretical frameworks in economics, sociology, political science, psychology, biology, physics, and anthropology, to name but a few . . . It is, indeed, this diversity and richness of theoretical frameworks that allow us to see in new and different ways what seems to be ordinary and familiar. (p. xxvii)
Even with the superimposed framework of Effectuation Theory, data collection and interpretation remained largely an inductive process through which I attempted to understand “how people make sense of their world and the experiences they have in the world” (Merriam, 2009, p. 13).
I employed a methodical, purposive sampling approach using specific criteria to locate the single case described herein. Specifically, I sought a participant who taught music in a public school within an underserved community, demonstrated career longevity (at least 5 years in their current position), utilized approaches or curricula that departed from convention, and was recognized at the state or national level for excellence in the classroom. After considerable research, including (a) Internet searches for exemplary music educators working in underserved communities, (b) conversations with professional associates to locate potential candidates, and (c) subsequent scrutiny of a small group of potential cases, I created a short list of potential participants. Luke Guerra emerged as a top candidate due to his publicized (albeit largely subjective) teaching successes and unusual background, which I read about online. I connected with him by phone and described the purpose of the project. He and I had never interacted prior to this discussion. My conversation with him confirmed that he met all criteria. After explaining the study and confirming his interest in participating, I obtained informed consent from him.
Most case study methodologists recommend binding, or placing parameters around, the case under scrutiny to clearly articulate the unit of study and scope of the research. A case can be bound temporally (Creswell, 2014), using a particular activity (Stake, 1995), or topically according to the investigator’s research questions (Yin, 2013). In the present study, the unit of analysis was the teacher himself and his experiences, behaviors, and Effectual decision-making within the challenging context of an underserved urban middle school. The case included only his teaching at one school over the course of one academic year and within the scope of one interdisciplinary learning experience he facilitated, an environmental songwriting unit called “Our City and Nature: Songs of Biodiversity.” I did not attempt to analyze the entire music program at his school or his approach to other aspects of his career as a teacher and musician. Furthermore, I did not intend to produce a generalized notion of atypical practice in PreK-12 music programs, nor did I analyze the difference between the participant’s approach and that of more traditional music educators.
The study was approved by both the Institutional Review Board at the sponsoring university and the chief of staff of the school district where the participant taught. Data collection commenced in September 2016 and concluded in May 2017. The primary source of data was semi-structured interviews; I conducted three 90-min interviews with Luke and separate 60-min interviews with four additional informants who were ideally positioned to speak about his music teaching practices. The first informant was a drama teacher working in the same school as Luke who had collaborated with him on various arts projects and shared a room with him for 10 years. The second was a music teacher at a neighboring school who had recently completed student teaching with Luke and continued to help him with afterschool rehearsals and performances. The third informant, an art teacher working in the same school as Luke who had known him for 11 years, partnered with him on the interdisciplinary project profiled in this study. The fourth was a science teacher working in the same school as Luke who had known him for 15 years and also partnered with him on the project described in this study. I audio-recorded all interviews and transcribed them immediately after they occurred. For the series of interviews with Luke, I used insights gained in earlier interviews to guide my questioning at our final meeting. We also communicated by e-mail periodically so he could keep me apprised of his activities and perceptions. Since secondary informants met with me only once, I occasionally utilized e-mail for follow-up clarifications with them.
Secondary data sources included observation field notes, researcher memos, personal reflections penned by the participant, and artifacts (e.g., lesson plans, student work, photographs, and Internet videos documenting learning experiences). I uploaded transcripts and documents into ATLAS.ti 8 for coding and analysis. Using this software program, I employed an inductive analytic process (Marshall & Rossman, 2011) that included applying theory-generated and in vivo codes, clustering codes around points of intersection (axial coding), and generating themes and interpretations. I ensured the trustworthiness of data and thus the credibility of my findings via several techniques recommended by Creswell (2014). By utilizing an array of different data sources, including secondary informants, direct observation, artifacts, and testimony from the primary participant, I generated a triangulated data schema. Prolonged engagement—observing diverse activities and interactions, developing rapport with a range of informants, and spending sufficient time in the natural setting of the phenomenon—allowed me to produce a thick description of the case. I employed member checks to ensure that interview data closely reflected informants’ intent and used analyst triangulation (Patton, 2002) by having expert researchers review my work.
In addition, through memoing and reflection, I attempted to acknowledge the influence of my own values, biases, and experiences throughout the course of the study. These included my identity as a White male with a comfortable life observing minority students in an underserved community, and my assumption that the case I chose to profile truly embodied a deviation from typical music classrooms in the United States. As a former public school music educator who sometimes faced challenging teaching circumstances, I could relate to Luke’s circumstances and the pragmatism he displayed in developing solutions. My experiences as a music student, teacher, and researcher have informed my acknowledgment of and respect for educators who create value for their students against formidable odds. Thus, as with most qualitative studies, my positionality surely influenced my view of the phenomena in this research.
Description of the participant, setting, and case boundaries
Luke, the primary participant in this study, was a 39-year-old music teacher at Middle School #4 (“MS #4,” a pseudonym) located in the urban core of a densely populated city in the northeastern United States. His background was atypical of most music teachers because of his military experience, lack of formative musical experiences in school, highly publicized teaching accolades and partnerships with celebrity musicians, and affinity for social and political activism. At the time of data collection, Luke had taught at the school for 11 years; prior to working there, he taught music in other schools within the same urban district for 5 years. Luke was born and raised in the same city in which he taught, the oldest of five siblings in a blended family that resulted from his parents’ divorce. Raised Catholic, his early formal experiences with music consisted of singing in church and playing hand bells at the Catholic school he attended, neither of which he recalled fondly. He did not take a single music class in high school; however, he loved popular music and found outlets for experimenting with it outside of school, including informal instruction on guitar, bass, piano, and voice from friends and family members. Later, he performed in a rock band with his father while earning money bartending, delivering food, and operating a landscaping business with a friend. A competitive student drawn to science, Luke first attended college to pursue psychology but became disenchanted with the structured and prescribed nature of the program. He left the university he was attending and enrolled in community college, where he had a “cathartic” moment in a music appreciation class while listening to a Chopin etude. Despite his family’s skepticism regarding a career in music, Luke chose to pursue music education—“a decision of passion and special interest instead of prescription and following the status quo.” Soon thereafter, he enrolled in an undergraduate music education program at a public university near his home.
While pursuing teacher licensure, Luke witnessed the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001, and decided to put his teaching plans on hold to join the Marine Corps. He made it all the way to boot camp when, as he struggled with sleep deprivation and the rigors of training, a staff sergeant implored him to return to teaching by arguing that Luke could “save more lives in a classroom than on the battlefield.” Luke returned disappointed yet with a new energy: “the alacrity, the belief that I could actually help kids.” Upon completing his degree and earning teaching certification, he sought a position in an underserved school so that he would be “in a special position to really save lives and do good work.” At the time of data collection, his music program consisted of general music, guitar, interdisciplinary arts classes, choir, and an afterschool modern band program with over 150 student participants. Luke had been recognized for his teaching at the local, state, and national level, including three nominations for the Grammy Foundation’s Music Educator Award. His modern band groups collaborated with numerous popular musicians, garnering significant media attention. Luke’s interests in educational innovation and advocacy inspired him to pursue graduate studies in non-music areas. As data collection concluded, he completed a Master’s Degree in Political Management and Educational Advocacy while also applying for Doctoral programs in the same areas.
MS #4 enrolls approximately 900 students in Grades 6 through 8. Over 90% of students who attended the school in 2017 were minorities, and nearly 80% were classified as “economically disadvantaged.” In the 2016–2017 school year, 26% percent of students achieved proficiency in math, 39% achieved proficiency in reading/language arts, and 86% qualified for free or reduced lunch. MS #4 serves as a bilingual hub within its district and specializes in integrating non-English speakers from an array of global locales. Despite the grit of its surroundings, the school is housed in a new, gleaming glass-front building. Its compact campus includes patches of green space and trees amid concrete and asphalt, and sits adjacent to the 6-acre urban nature preserve surrounding a city reservoir.
Music classes took place within one of two large tiered rehearsal rooms. Luke’s room, brightened by sunlight beaming through a central skylight, was lined with guitars, keyboards, computer work stations, and drum sets around its perimeter. Tiered steps housed student seating and, as there were eight tiers, doubled as a solfege teaching tool. Student artwork, photos, and inspirational quotes adorned the walls, including the following words of wisdom from Luke himself: “Everyone’s born and dies with one instrument: a voice. You can’t change it, so learn to use it.” Despite its pleasant appearance, Luke’s instructional space was not without flaws. Wireless Internet was faulty. The Smartboard no longer worked. The tiered layout hindered movement and other space-dependent instructional activities.
The case presented here was bound within the context of a single pedagogical endeavor called “Our City and Nature: Songs of Biodiversity.” During the 2016–2017 school year, Luke devised and launched the endeavor to teach students about the ecology of their neighborhood, and the environmental toll imposed on it by human activity and pollution, using an interdisciplinary blend of science, visual art, and songwriting. Students learned about watershed ecology, stormwater runoff, and climate change before conducting tree counts and urban planning exercises to calculate the percentage of impervious surface area on school grounds. Simultaneously, they created artwork expressing themes of environmentalism and designed a butterfly garden complete with a decorative bench they painted under the guidance of the art teacher. The culmination of the project was a field trip to the reservoir preserve located a few blocks from school grounds. There, they experienced the intermingling of nature and city life and worked in small groups to write songs expressing what they learned, which were later recorded and shared online. To facilitate the project, Luke established partnerships with several organizations, including Honeywell Corporation, the Audubon Society, and the Grammy Museum.
Findings
Analysis of primary and secondary data sources produced numerous codes clustered around four themes (see Table 1). I will examine intersections among these themes and principles of Effectuation Theory in the “Discussion” section that follows.
Study Themes and Codes.
Theme 1: teaching ethos informed by unique personal circumstances
Luke attributed his approach to teaching in part to the unsettled nature of his childhood and tenuous early connections to music. His parents’ divorce, diminished relationship with his father, decision to leave home after high school, and existential crisis in college shaped his perspectives on life and learning. As Luke explained, “I think it drove me in some ways, angrily, to be the overachieving competitive student that I was for years.” Among other skills, these experiences taught him resourcefulness. He supported himself through numerous odd jobs, bought his first home at age 20, launched a landscaping business with a friend, and paid his own way through college. This resourcefulness extended to his efforts to support his teaching innovations. As one of his colleagues commented, “a good leader is someone who has different adjacencies that they pull from, and that is Luke—he’s pulling from here, there, and everywhere.” Luke’s experience in the military also provided him with perseverance and perspective: We used to say “good to go” all the time in the Marine Corps—“You good to go?” And even if you felt terrible, you’d say “I’m good to go—we’re going to make this happen, we’re going to get the mission done.” I think I bring some of that to my teaching . . . like, stop complaining, things could be way worse than this. I think the kids know that about me. Let’s get through it together, work hard, have integrity.
Luke did not follow a typical path to becoming a music educator: as a child, he did not participate in ensembles, lessons, or nearly any other school-sponsored musical activity. He recalled his college experience: “I remember seeing the dictation exercises and sight-reading pages, and I just felt misaligned . . . that the expectations were too great for somebody of my background. So maybe I didn’t belong?” This exerted a profound influence on his nontraditional approach to music teaching, the path to which Luke described as one of “overcoming.” Luke believes that his greatest strength as an educator is a manifestation of his greatest weakness—a lack of formal music training:
Having started formal music training so late in my life, one thing that makes my teaching unique is how I relate to beginning music makers. I often learn with them instead of trying to teach them methods I mastered many moons ago. I recognize repertoire that is relevant to them and teach concepts and theory through those songs, instead of trying to insist on standards required of me by my professors.
Through his persistent efforts and the informal guidance of mentors and peers, Luke completed the requirements to become a certified music educator. Yet, when asked to identify his primary instrument, his reluctance to identify with performance-oriented categorizations appeared: “The students—they’re my primary instrument. I can’t say I’m great at any [actual] instrument.” In lieu of mastering scales, arpeggios, and standard repertoire in the classical vein, Luke learned pop and rock informally through interactions with friends, relatives, and musical role models. He designed his program at MS #4 to reflect his own strengths in popular music and perspective-taking abilities.
Another key aspect of Luke’s teaching ethos was his community activism and aspirations to become a change-maker outside of the classroom. He participated in multiple community action organizations seeking to create a more peaceful and equitable society, including one focused on sustainability and another seeking to curb street violence. Often, he involved his students from MS #4 in social justice events sponsored by these organizations, inviting them to perform music at rallies, create banners and artwork, or participate in weekend marches for peace. Luke also spent significant time outside of school advocating for educational change, sometimes by lobbying politicians. As he explained, “I want to understand how government interacts with local school systems . . . working with senators, assembly people, finding their positions [on education] and then being outspoken about it.” These advocacy experiences inspired him to pursue graduate studies in politics and educational change, not music, to better understand the top-down dynamics of education policy and funding. He shared his aspiration to become a catalyst for enhanced teacher agency and student performance in urban schools, and often spoke as someone ready to depart the teaching profession in pursuit of these goals.
Theme 2: embracing uncertainty—“what have we got to lose?”
The tolerance for uncertainty Luke displayed throughout his journey to become an educator imbued his approach to teaching music in an urban, high-needs setting. He explained how he chose among various teaching ideas by considering the downside of inaction—what he and his students stand to lose by not pursuing a new venture—against risks “that are everywhere when you’re trying things for the first time, such as creating a curriculum or forming a new ensemble.” One colleague described Luke’s approach as a “judo mind set” in which he adjusted to and ultimately manipulated the bureaucratic, cultural, and/or interpersonal forces that could have potentially obstructed his teaching activities. In entrepreneurial parlance, he practiced creative recombination: synthesizing existing skills, resources, and ideas in unconventional ways. For Luke, this adaptability required balancing an ever-multiplying array of new ideas with the practical realities of launching and sustaining them: I see the opportunity, the end goal, and talk about that first, and it stirs excitement in me and my students and colleagues. But then there’s the pragmatic resources [needed] to actually see a project through. I think that’s [a challenge] as an innovator . . . I see a lot of things, try a lot of things, and only a few of them pan out. I’m OK with that.
Luke’s enterprising spirit and resourcefulness developed out of necessity. A lack of support and administrative guidance produced frustration, which impelled him to “go rogue.” As he explained, [The context of this school] is a weakness and a strength. It’s that starving feeling . . . we don’t know when our next donation is going to come, or when we’re going to get guitar strings again. For so long, I’ve had that (starving) feeling, so whenever something new came along, I said “let’s jump on it, let’s see if it works and gets our kids some things they need.”
This “starving feeling,” Luke explained, led him to become a “Renaissance music teacher” by necessity. His frustration stemmed from multiple stressors: a lack of funding and resources, inadequate classroom support for students with limited English skills and/or behavior issues, feelings of second-class status for the arts, and competition from better-resourced, extracurricular afterschool programs at MS #4 that vie for participants among the same contingent of arts students. Luke added, “when the district doesn’t support it, you just feel so discouraged . . . aren’t these kids the most important reason for all of this?” However, he also acknowledged that a lack of supervisory oversight facilitated many of his atypical teaching endeavors, some of which might not have been possible in a more regulated environment.
Nevertheless, Luke developed into a shrewd opportunity-seeker, and both he and his colleagues agreed that the context they faced made them better, more creative teachers. Case in point, Luke harnessed his environmental activism, background in popular music, and the fact that MS #4 happened to be located next to the biosphere surrounding a city reservoir, to create a new teaching endeavor called “Our City and Nature: Songs of Biodiversity.” He explained how the idea developed: Wow . . . we could get some trees and plant them, talk about global warming, carbon dioxide absorption, and catching stormwater runoff. Then we could turn it into a song, or a “poe-a-TREE” contest that turns into a song. I could ask [the art teacher] to help students sand down some guitars and paint them to match the landscape. They’re also doing a butterfly garden with a bench. [The science teacher] can hit the global warming topic. So, I guess you could call me the project lead, giving everybody different things to do for different project ideas. If only 10–20% of them actually pan out, I think it’s still successful because we did a few really cool things and explored a few possibilities.
Luke also identified some challenging aspects of his atypical approach to teaching: It can be a detriment because sometimes you’re a little too spread out, just taking on too much . . . It’s frankly overwhelming at times trying to overlap these different Venn Diagrams. [I’m] trying to be so much to so many people . . . so, it’s knowing when to say when, when it’s too much—that’s the downfall of being innovative and looking for opportunities.
Physical and mental fatigue often drains passion from both urban teachers and nascent entrepreneurs (Abraham-Cook, 2012; Omrane et al., 2018). Even so, Luke seemed to relish opportunities to be rebellious—“going rogue,” as he put it—so long as they served the interests of students and aligned with his passions and strengths as a teacher.
Theme 3: socially conscious, student-centered teaching and learning
Luke’s unique approach to teaching music was inseparable from his identity as an education activist, advocate for social justice, and environmentalist. These aspects of who he is and what he knows suffused both the content and the style of his music teaching. Luke’s colleagues recognized him as a “lifelong mentor” to his students, someone who continues to impact young lives outside of school and for years after students graduate. One colleague described the impact of Luke’s interdisciplinary curriculum combining songwriting and ecology: [His students] are much more environmentally aware, much more aware of how they fit into their community and the importance that they can make . . . that they can be a change. Luke puts that into them. He puts that burning thing in them, saying “you are important, and you can make a difference.”
This socially conscious approach was also apparent in Luke’s teaching style, and in the humanitarianism displayed in his personal interactions with students. One of Luke’s former student teaching interns described it in terms of individualization: Luke enables students to take their learning to a personal level. [He asks:] “How do you feel about this? What does this project or this song mean to you?” When something is personal, it is important to you. If you can relate to something, you tend to be very passionate about it. He wants to unlock that passion in each student.
Luke cited his stint in the military as a turning point; upon returning from training with the Marines, he made a conscious decision: put students first and music second.
Perhaps the most atypical aspect of Luke’s teaching at MS #4 is the extent to which it hinged on student agency and shared governance. This philosophy stems from Luke’s asserted distaste for prescribed curricula and formulaic methods: It’s not about the people writing the curriculum, it’s about the children I serve . . . I’m sorry to sound like a maverick, but it’s the truth. If it serves them and I’m not breaking the law . . . then it’s a home run. What (the children) say means more to me now than what the curriculum says.
According to a colleague, Luke “gives students a lot of freedom and makes the choices theirs. I think that creates ownership on their part . . . they really feel ‘this is mine, and I’m going to buy into it.’” Throughout his songwriting lessons, a palpable sense emerged that Luke was also a student learning alongside the children, validating their songwriting choices and facilitating, not directing them, as they prepared to perform. He was masterful at supporting their confidence and motivational needs.
Authenticity was the essential ingredient in Luke’s socially conscious, student-centered approach to teaching and learning. His students and colleagues responded to his genuine, relatable nature and strong resolve for music education. Furthermore, they were drawn to his teaching endeavors because the projects reflected the real world. Luke explained it in light of the songwriting that took place for “Our City and Nature”: Ultimately, I’m trying to get students to see the bigger picture, and how what we teach them in school relates to the real world. Oxygen affects all of us, flooding affects the whole city we’re in. My students are actually outside doing something instead of just talking about it. They’re tackling real-world problems and conveying them through songwriting. To me, it’s exciting—(songwriting) shows the world everything they just did.
When asked how this authenticity might connect to an Effectual approach to teaching music, a colleague added that “Luke goes with things he feels strongly about, and then brings them together to make a larger statement. I think he is definitely re-purposing things and tying them together.” In effect, Luke acted as a pedagogical bricoleur, constructing authentic music learning experiences for his students from the means and materials at hand.
Theme 4: collaboration—“fast alone or far together”
The final thematic area of analysis centered on Luke’s dependence on partnerships and collaboration in order to realize his teaching endeavors. His partners within and outside MS #4 helped provide the resources, capacities, and leeway necessary for his unorthodox approach to succeed. Furthermore, Luke’s finesse in building consensus around his visions for meaningful, student-centered learning experiences resulted in something greater than successful lessons or performances: a community of boldness and possibility among the students, colleagues, and outside partners with whom he collaborated. “There’s a saying: you can go fast alone, or you can go far together,” Luke shared.
It’s so much more fulfilling when you do it as a group . . . sure, you move slower and maybe only get 5% of your vision accomplished . . . but I prefer the “let’s do this together” approach. There’s a communal sense of accomplishment.
The success of a project like “Our City and Nature” hinged on crucial relationships between Luke and a cohort of his teaching colleagues, many whose disciplinary specialization was not the arts. “Give and take is easy with him,” one colleague explained. “He’s not authoritative . . . it doesn’t have to be his way; he’s willing to consider other options.”
Luke’s colleagues described his ability to forge partnerships with musical, environmental, and social justice organizations as “astounding” and “mind-blowing.” One commented that “he gets money from some weird places . . . he’s very innovative in that regard, in looking in places you wouldn’t normally think to look.” Luke explained the importance of these outside partnerships using terminology from his time in the military: The Marines summed it up the best way: B and B, or “beans and bullets.” Officers are trained to make sure their men have the essentials. If soldiers don’t have beans and bullets, you’re basically leading them to a death zone. The [outside partnerships] I have forged became the beans and bullets that kept this program vibrant. Without partnerships, none of this would be possible.
Luke described these relationships as “symbiotic,” or reciprocal. In exchange for equipment, funding, and involvement of outside experts, partner organizations featured his students in their publicity and fundraising campaigns. This interdependency also manifested in a foundational interdisciplinarity; far more than an aspirational ideal, interdisciplinary transfer necessarily threaded through nearly every aspect of “Our City and Nature,” as Luke relied on his network of associates to fill gaps in his own knowledge base.
According to one colleague, “Luke’s strongest collaborators are his students.” Not only did he facilitate collaborative, student-directed learning, he also expected students to teach one another, and to teach him. “I believe letting them have a hand on the steering wheel fosters more long-term engagement,” he shared. An observed afterschool rehearsal showcased this approach. With 125 students participating, Luke had few options for traditional teacher-centered instruction. Instead, he relied on older students to mentor younger peers. Four practice rooms adjacent to the main classroom overflowed with singers standing in a circle, lyrics sheets in hand, rehearsing new songs under the guidance of older student leaders. Dancers filled the adjoining band room, independently running their routines repeatedly. Meanwhile, Luke worked with the guitarists and rhythm section in the choir/general music room. To assist, Luke invited a former student-teacher and a college student to stop by whenever they could. He emphasized integrity with the students, telling the eighth-grade leaders that he wanted to know about any off-task behavior. “Integrity is what you’re doing when nobody’s watching you,” he reminded them. In a later interview, he explained the benefits and drawbacks of this instructional arrangement: It’s a blend, a lot of scaffolding . . . one group is at this level, another is at that level, differentiated instruction everywhere. A lot of noise, a lot of activity, a lot of learning, which feels good. But, a lot of chaos, too . . . [it is] hard to bring it all together to make it happen.
Collaboration with students, colleagues, and outside partners emerged as the most crucial factor in Luke’s success as a music educator working under difficult conditions.
Discussion
The purpose of this intrinsic case study was to describe the experiences of Luke Guerra, an American music teacher working in an underserved urban middle school, using the theoretical lens of Effectuation (Sarasvathy, 2001a). In interpreting data from multiple sources, I found that Luke embodied an atypical, highly impactful form of music teaching that reflected Effectual decision making. He utilized Effectual thinking to create alternative music teaching ideas—endeavors that mitigated the uncertainties of his resource-poor yet idea-rich environment and allowed him to capitalize on opportunities that stemmed from his individualism and sense of students’ needs. Rather than allowing the limitations of his teaching context and knowledge gaps to exert control over his program, he created an alternative future by leveraging these limitations into a vision around which others could rally and invest.
Now, I turn to a discussion of the a priori framework of Effectuation and its relevance to understanding the case of Luke Guerra and his teaching. Effectual logic differs from causal logic in that Effectual thinkers do not begin with a clear goal in mind. Instead, they focus on the resources they currently control (i.e., who they are, what they know, who they know) and might leverage to achieve a variety of imagined ends (the “Bird in Hand” principle). To pursue his goals, Luke inventively incorporated various knowledge structures into his unique teacher persona, a process of “psychological bricolage” through which he merged conflicting personal and professional identities to combine and exploit previously unrelated ideas (Sanchez-Burks et al., 2015). His teaching embodied his core values: integrity, social justice, perseverance, and authenticity. He wanted to be known as a soldier, advocate, pop musician, and neighborhood kid not unlike the students he taught. Luke leveraged his unconventional path to becoming a music educator, which he initially viewed as a liability, into a defining characteristic of his teaching that allowed him to better relate to students. Bernard (2012) found that music educators with non-traditional backgrounds often feel insecure about their qualifications, but like Luke, exhibit unique abilities to create flexible, relevant learning experiences for students featuring vernacular music prominently. While Luke may not have possessed the content knowledge of a conventional music teacher, there were certain things he did know uncommonly well: resourcefulness, learning through persistence, activism, and his community. The “Bird in Hand” principle seemed to resonate with his approach and experiences.
Effectuation is more a thought process than a method, and its primary purpose is to help explain how truly entrepreneurial thinkers make decisions and create value in highly uncertain environments (Duening et al., 2012). The notion that classroom decisions could be made based on what might be sacrificed (“affordable loss”) versus what might be gained seems anathema to foundational educational doctrine. Similarly, the level of on-the-job learning and curricular improvisation Luke displayed was uncommonly high. But he had little choice. Facing the uncertainty of the “starving feeling” he described, he chose a “what have we got to lose” approach—that is, to take non-predictive control of the situation. Teaching became a discovery process. The uncertainty born of lacking administrative oversight at MS #4 facilitated new venture creation as Luke capitalized on the school’s disequilibrium to create new initiatives (Borasi & Finnigan, 2010). Most educational organizations avoid non-predictive approaches to teaching and learning, and several times Luke alluded to friction with administrators in the rare cases when they did oversee his activities. In contrast to the prototypical Effectual entrepreneur who works as a freelancer, Luke made strategic adjustments to his activities so that he remained affiliated with the highly bureaucratic organization that employed him. In the end, there were many things he could afford to lose, but his job was not one of them.
Urban teachers like Luke contend with high levels of unpredictability but learn to make the best of the unexpected. His school’s lack of resources and his self-perceived deficits in traditional music education paradigms stood as proverbial “lemons” impeding success. At a loss regarding how to conform to traditional models of music education, Luke used his unique strengths, a mind-set open to uncertainty, student-centered teaching, and strategic collaborations to defy tradition and create a thriving, place-based program. Furthermore, he discovered that the most effective way to overcome adversity was to place students at the center of instruction, corroborating the findings of numerous music education studies (Blair, 2009; Brown, 2008; Jaffurs, 2004; Scott, 2011). In utilizing the urban landscape and neighboring reservoir to teach environmental songwriting, Luke exemplified what Effectual theorists call exaptation: “use of something for a purpose for which it was not originally designed or intended” (Read et al., 2017, p. 131). However, Luke’s story also suggests that certain “lemons” in problematic educational contexts cannot always be leveraged into satisfactory solutions, due to pragmatic, bureaucratic, or power-based factors. Effectuation Theory’s “lemonade principal” would need to be problematized further in order for it to more accurately describe and explain this element of Luke’s experience. One corollary that could be informative is Barnett and Hodson’s (2001) notion of pedagogical context knowledge, or expert teachers’ synthesis of content expertise, organizational culture, teacher “lore,” and situated knowledge of student needs.
Luke’s adage that you can “go fast alone, or far together” encapsulates the crucial role that his “crazy quilt” of collaborative partnerships played in his teaching activities. Luke described his many organizational partnerships as “symbiotic,” in which the connections he forged allowed interdependent ventures to emerge that benefited both parties. However, it seemed clear that partnership was a means of survival for him—the “beans and bullets” that helped minimize the inherent risks of his teaching ideas. Effectual thinkers are not necessarily more apt to take risks, but they do tend to demonstrate mastery for evaluating, minimizing, and managing risk (Macko & Tyszka, 2009). Furthermore, Effectuation Theory positions strategic collaboration as a novel alternative to competitive schemes that causal thinkers use to best their rivals. No true parallel existed in Luke’s approach; collaboration was a stated value shared among stakeholders in MS #4’s educational ecosystem. The difference was the extent to which Luke relied on such partnerships, and the lengths he would go to step beyond the school grounds to find external organizations that could help his students.
Perhaps the greatest liability of Effectuation as a framework for understanding people and the decisions they make is the suggestion that individuals engaged in any type of value-generating process hold a stabilized sense of their own identity. Not every music educator knows who they are the way that Luke does. Identity is a process of construction and refinement, especially in early career teachers (Ballantyne et al., 2012; Beauchamp & Thomas, 2009; Frierson-Campbell, 2004; Isbell, 2008). As Nielsen and Lassen (2012) pointed out, “in the existing Effectuation Theory, little consideration is given to the explicit discussion of how identity unfolds and changes throughout the (process)” (p. 376). Instead, Nielsen and Lassen suggest an identity sense-making framework where participants self-reflect, interact with others, gather feedback, and clarify their emerging, dynamic identity as an Effectual agent in their given pursuit. This or other social constructivist viewpoints that acknowledge the complex, ongoing, and highly contextualized nature of identity would strengthen Effectuation’s explanatory value.
Determining the role of Effectuation in music education research, practice, and teacher preparation is a worthy goal for scholars and stakeholders in the field. This study was a first attempt toward this goal and suggests several implications for practice. Music teachers in resource-constrained environments may find greater success by using personal attributes and contextually specific factors to inform non-traditional, student-centered programming fueled by collaboration with partners inside and outside of their schools. Educational administrators, policymakers, and stakeholders would be well-served to embrace the uncertainty of new paradigms rather than constrict teacher and student ingenuity through insistence on traditional approaches. Music teacher educators should consider incorporating tenets of Effectual thinking into their work with preservice and in-service teachers. Hart’s (2018) collection of pedagogical games for the classroom provides a starting point. It is worth pointing out that, contrary to aphorisms stating that entrepreneurial thinkers are born not made, researchers note that Effectuation skills can be taught and learned (Read & Sarasvathy, 2005). As a qualitative, single case study, this exploration of atypical music teaching also bears limitations. These may include limited generalizability and replicability, inability to rule out alternative explanations, lack of objectivity, and the Hawthorne Effect (participants’ social desirability bias). I countered these limitations by using established, rigorous methods to promote trustworthiness.
Further investigation of this topic warrants consideration within the music education research community. Additional cases of atypical yet successful music teaching in underserved urban schools will allow the phenomena described herein to be explored among a diversity of participants, grade levels, specialties, and community contexts. Inquiry into the effectiveness of teacher preparation programs in educating pre-service teachers about Effectual concepts and behaviors may provide useful baseline data. Last, analysis of the policies, norms, values, and culture of the traditional music education establishment, along with possible tensions that Effectual approaches might create, would help determine areas of potential alignment with and resistance to a wider embrace of Effectually oriented music teaching.
Conclusion
Conventional models of school-based music teaching tend to be based on causal logic, where success depends on generating a narrow set of possible activities and outcomes. Such models do not always work in uncertain, resource-constrained teaching contexts. Findings of this study suggest that, by focusing at the outset on the means at hand rather than singular, predetermined goals, music educators working in difficult contexts may find unexpected pathways to new forms of success. Effectuation Theory provides a thought-process framework that may assist music teachers in creating valuable educational experiences in underserved schools. However, it does not fully account for the fluidity of teacher identity development, and it will require more exploration and scrutiny before it can be endorsed as broadly beneficial.
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) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
