CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK n.

Vignole$, A., Galindo-Rueda. F. and Feinstein , r.. (2004) T he labour market impact ofaduh
education and training : a cohort anal ysis. Scollis/J Journal 0/ Political Economy 51
pp.266-280.
Wolf, A. (2001) Qualifications and assessment. In Aldrich, R. (ed) A cenllilY of educOlio"
pp.206 227. RoutledgeFalmer, London.
Wolf, A. (2002) Does educalion mal{er? Myths aboul education and economic growth. Pcn
. EDUCATION AS A
guin, London .
Wolf, A. (2004) E du cation and economic perfolmance: simplistic theories end the po licy CO n.
sequences. Oxford Review o/Economic Policy 20:(2) , pp. 3 15-333.
SOCIAL FUNCTION
John Dewey

INTRODUCTION
John Dewey (1859-1952) was a philosopher. one of whose principal considerations was
pragmatism in whicll knowledge arose as the individual interacts with his or her environment. He
was Interested in the connections between education and civil society and proposed not
just engagement by formal means such as voting but by developing a well- informed population
who would be able to understand and act In society. In this extract Irom his key work
Democracy and EducatIon, Dewey discusses the nature of environment, the finks that exist
between education and the environment and the ways in which educators can act to ensure max­
imum benefit for learners Dewey became known as a 'progressive' (this is not the same as saying
that Dewey would have accepted all that was said and done In his name) advocating m ild-centred
experiential education. His Ideas about the connection between education and civil SOCiety and the
importance of environment rather than didactic teaching of knowledge had a powerful inlluence on
many educators. He was active on a number of fronts: he Influenced the development of what
became the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, supported women's
rights. and led the Dewey Commission which condemned Stalin 's actions againstTrotsky.

KEY QUESTIONS
1. What is 'child-centred education '?
2. How does it differ from supposedly 'traditional ' education?
3. What are the potential advantages and limitations to 'child-centred education'?
4. Do you think that schools should be concerned with preparing learners to understand and be
active within civil society or would this be a negative form of social engineering?

FURTHER READING
There are several good overviews of Dewey's work, which include Pring, R. (2008) John Dewey .
Continuum Ubrary of Educational Thought (4) (Continuum, London) and Ryan, A. (1997) John
Dewey And (he High Tide of American Uberalism !;:N . W. Norton & Company, New York), An
argument against the supposedly Dewey-Influenced excesses of liberal education can be seen
in Bloom, A. (1987) The Closing of/he American Mind (Simon and SchLlster, New York).

This Reading links with Chapter 11 and Debate 1 of Th e Rou tledge Education St udies Text­
book.

182 183
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
THE NATURE AND MEANING OF ENVIRONMENT
• •
TH E SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT
We have ,cc n that a corrlll1unity or socia l group su~lains itself through Conti nllo
se lf-rene wal , and that this renewal t«kes place by mean s of the educational gro\\ ~
of the Immature m ell1bers of the group. By vanous agl!nclcs, unmtcntJonal and desi g
ncu
a soci ety tran s[omls uninitiated and seeml11gly allen belllgs mto robu st trustecs o f its OIl
resources and ideal s. Education is thus a foslerin,g , a nurturi ng. a cultivating, process. A:I
of these words mean that it implies attention to the conditions ofgrowth. We also Spe,lk ('I
rea ring, raising, bringing up - words which express the difference of level which I!duca
tion aims to cover. Etymologically, the word education, means just a process ofleading or
bringmg up. Wh en we have the outcome of the process m mind, we speak o f education a',
shaping, fomling, molding activity - that is , a s hapi llg into the standard fonn 01
social activity. In this cha pter we are Co nc erned with thc general features of the wC/y ill
which a socia l g roup brings up its immature members into its own social form.
Since what is required is a transformation of the quality of experience till it
p artakes in the intere sts, purposes, and ideas current in the social group, the probl e m is evi­
dently not one of mere ph ysical formin g. Things can be physically transported in space:
they may be bodily co nvcyed. Beliefs and aspirations cannot be physically extracted llnJ
i nsertcd. How th e n are th ey communicated 0 Given the impossibility of direct contagion Or
literal inculcation, our problem is to discover the method by which thc young assim ilate
the point of view of the old, or the older bring the young into like-mindedness wilh
themselves.
The answ..:!', in general formu.lation , is: By means of the action of the e nvironment
in calling out certa in resp onses. The required beliefs cannot be hammered in ; the needed
attitudes cannot be plastered on. But the parti cular medium in which an individual exi sts
leads him to see and feel one thing rather than another; it leads him to ha\'c certa in plans in
order that he may act successfully w ith others; it strengthens so me beliefs and weaken~
others as a condition of winning the approval of others. Thus it gradually prod uces in him
a certain syste m of behavior, a certain disposition of actio n. Th e words "environment,"
"medium" denote something more th an surro undin gs which encompass an individual.
They denote the spec ifi c COl1linlli(JI of the surroundings with his own active tendencies. All
inan imate being is, of course, continuous with its sUlToundings; hut the environing cir­
cumstances do not, save metaphorically, constitute a n environment. For th e inorganic
being is not concerned in the influences which affect it. On the other hand , some things
which arc remote in space and time from a li ving crealllre, especially a hUL11 an creature,
may form his environment e\'cn more tl1i1y than some (lfthe things close to him. The things
wi th which a man var ies arc his genuine environment. Thus the activities of the
astronomer vary with the stars at which he gazes or about which he calculates. Of his
immediate surroundings, hi s telescope is most intimately hi s environment. The environ.
ment of an antiquarian, as an antiquarian, consists of the rClllote epoch of human life wi th
w hich he is co nce rned, and the relics, inscription s, etc., by which he establishes connec­
tions witb that period.
In brief, th e env ironment consists of those conditions that promote or hinder, stim.
ulate or inhibit, the characteristic activities of a I iving being. Water is the environ!ncnt of
a fish because it is necessary to the fish's activities - to its life. The north pole is a signili.
cant element in the environment of an arctic explorer, whether he succeeds in reaching it
or not, because it defines his activities, make:; them what they distinctively aL·e. Just
becau se life signifies not bare passiv e ex istcn ce (suppos ing there is such a thing), but a
way of acting, e nvironm en t or medi UIll signifies what enters into thi~ activity as a s u:;tnin­
ing or frustrating condition.
184
EDUCATION AS A SOCIAL FUNCTION
A being whose activit ies are assoc iated with others has a ~ ocial clw irQnlllcnt. What he does
and what he can do depend up on the expec tations, demands. approvals, and condemna­
ti ons of others. A being connected with other beings cannot perform his own activities
without taking the activities of others into account. For they ar~ the indispensablc condi­
tions of th e realization of hi s tendencies. W he n he nlOves he stirs them and reciprocally.
, Ve mi ght as well try to imagine a busin ess man doing businl:ss, buying and selling, a ll by
him se lf. as to conceive it possible to define th.: activities of an individ ual in terms of his
isol ated actions. Thc manufacturer moreover is as trnly soc iall y guided in his aC ii\iti cs
whcn he is laying plans in th e pr ivacy of his O\\'n cou ntinghouse as w hen he is buying his
raw material or "elling hi ~ finished goods. Thinking and feeling that have to do with actio n
in association \'-,ith others i:; as much a social mode of behavior as is the most overt coop­
erative or hostile act.
What we have more especially to indicate is how the soc ial medium nurtures its
immature members . There is no great difficulty in see ing how it shapes the external habits
of action . E ve n dogs and horses have their actions modified by association with hum an
beings; they fonll different habits because human beings are concerned with what they do.
Human beings control animals by controlling the natural stimuli which influence them; by
creating a ccrtain environment in other words. Food, bits and bridl es, noises, vehicles, are
used to direct th e ways in which the natural or instinctive responses of horses occur. By
operating steadi ly to call Ollt certain acts, habits are formed which function with the same
uniformity as the original stimuli. If a rat is put in a maze and finds food only by making a
given numbe r oftums in ~l given seque nce, his activity is gradua lly modified till he habit­
ually takes that co urse rather than another when he is hun gry.
Hum an actions a re modified in a like fash ion . A burnt child dreads the fire ; if a par­
ent arranged cond iti ons so that (;\·ery time a child tou ched a certain toy he got burned, the
child would learn to avoid that toy as automatically as he avoids touching fire. So far,how­
ever, we are dealing with what may be called traill.ing in distinction from educative teach­
ing. The changes cons ide red are in outer action rather than in me ntal and cIl1oti ona l
disposition s of behavior. The di stinction is not, howevcr, a sharp one . The child might con­
ceivabl y generate in tiIl1e a violent antipathy, not only to that pal1icular toy, but to the c lass
of toys rese mbling it. The a\'Cfsion might cven persist after he had forgot1en about the orig­
inal bnrns; later on he might even invent some reason to account for his seemingly irra­
tional antipathy. In some cascs, altering the external habit of action by changing the
environment to affect the stimuli to action \ .. ill a lso alter the me nta l disposit ion concerned
in the action. Yet tnis does not always happen; a person trained to dodge a threatening
blow, dod ges automatically with no corresponding thought or emo tion. We have to find ,
then. some differentia of training from education.
A cll:c may be found in the fact that the horse does not really share in the social use
to which his action is put. Someone else L1ses the horse to sec ure a result whi ch is advanta­
geolls by making it adva ntageous to the horse to perform the act - he gets food, etc. But
the horse, presum ab ly, does not gct any new interest. He remains interested in food, not in
the service he is rendering. He is not a partner in a shared activity. Were he to become a
copartner, he would, in engaging in the conjoint activity, have the same interest in its
accomplishment which others have. lie would share their ideas and emotiolls.
No\\' in many cases - too many cases - the activity of the immature human being is
simply played UPOJl to secure habits which an: useful. H e is trained like an animal rather
than educated like a human being. His in stin cts remain attached to their original obj ects of
pain or pleasure. But to g(;t happiness or to avoid th e pain of failure he has to act in a way
ag reeable to others. In other cases, he rea lly shar..:, o r participates in th e com mon activity.
I n this case, hi s origi nal impulse is mod·ificd. He 110t m erely acts in a way agreeing with the
185
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
actions of others, but, in so acti ng, the same ideas and cmot ion s are aroused in him th at2ni .
mate the othe rs. A tribe, let us say, is wa rlike. Th e succes ses for wh ich it strives , the
achi evements up o n w hi ch it sets store, a re co nnected with fightin g a nd v ictory. T he pre".
e nce of this medium inc ites bell icose exhibitions in a boy, first in games, the n in fact when
he is stron g e.no ug h. As he fi ghts be wins approval a nd advancement; as he refra ins , he is
dislikcd, ridiculed , s hut out from favorable recog nition. It is not surpri sing that his ()riQi_
nal bell igerent tendenc ies and emotio ns arc s trengthen ed at the expense of othe rs . and tJ~al
his ideas tLim to thing s connected w ith war. Only in this way can he becom e a full y recog.
nized mcmber of hi s group. T hll s his mental habitudes a re g radua lly assi milated to thOse
of hi s group.
Ifwe formulate the principle involved in this illustration, we shall pe rceive that the
social medium neither implants certalll desires a nd ideas directly, nor yet mere ly estab­
lishes celiain pure ly muscular habits of action, like "instinctiv el y" w inkin g or dod ging a
blo w. Sett ing up conditions which stimulate ccnnin vis ibl e a nd ta ngi bl e ways of acting i,
the first ste p. \lak ing the individual a sharer or partner in the associated acti v ity so that he
feels its success as his success , its fa ilure as his failure, is the completing step. As Soon as
he is possessed by the emotiona l att itude of the group , he will be ale rt to recogni ze thespe­
cial ends at which it aims and th e means emp loyed to secure success. Hi s beliefs and ideal ,
in other words, wi II take a form similarto th ose ofo th ers in the group . H e w ill also achieve
pretty much the sa me stock of knowledge si nce that knowledge is an ingredient of hi s
habitual pursuits.
T he importance oflanguage in gaining knowledge is doubtless the chief cau se ofthe
common notion that knowledge may be passed directly fro m o ne to anoth er. It almo:;1
seems as ifa ll we have to do to convey an idea illtO th e mind ofanoth er is to con vey a sound
into his car. T hus imparting knowledge gets ~ls simi la te d to a purely physical process. Blil
learning from language will be found , whe n analyzed , to confirm the principl e just laid
dowll. It would probably be admitted with little hesitation that a child gets the idea of, say,
a hat by using it as other persons do; by cov ering the head with it, giving it to oth ers to wear,
THE SOCIAL MEDIUM AS EDUCATIVE
having it put on by others w hen going out, etc. But it may be asked how thi s principle of
shared activity applies to getting through s peech o r reading the idea of, say , a Greek hel­
met, where no direct use of any kind e nters in . What shared activity is th ere in learni ng
from books abo ut the discov ery of A meri ca?
Since la ng uage tends to become th e chi ef instrum ent oflearning ab ollt many th ings,
let us see how it works. The baby begins of co urse witii mere ~ounds, lloi ses, and to nes bav­
ing no mea ninl'., expressing, that is, no idea. Sounds are jllSl one kind of sti mulu s to direct
r~spo n se, some having a soothin g effect, others te nding to make on e jump, and so on. Th e
sou nd h- a-t would remain as m eani ngless as a sou nd ,in Cho ctaw, a seeming ly inaliicul ate
grunt, ifit were not uttered in cOfllle ction with an action which is participated in by a nUlll ­
ber of people. When the mother is taking tbc infant out of doors, she says " hat" as she puts
something on th e baby's head. Deing taken out becomes an interest to the child; mother
and child not o nly go out with each oth er physically, but both are concerned ill th e go ing
out; they enj oy it in co mmon. B y co njunction with the other factors in activi ty th e :;oulld
"hat" soon ge ts the same meaning for th e chi ld that it has for the parent; it becomes ,1 sign
ofthe ac ti v ity into which it ente rs. Th l! bare fact that lan guage consi sts of sound s w hich are
nluilially ii1telligible is enough of itselfto show th at its meaning d epends upon con necti on
w ith a shared cX[lerience.
In s hort, the sou nd h-a-t ga ins meaning in precisely the same way that (he thing
"hat" ga in s it, by being used in a gi\·en way. And they acquire the sa me meaning \\·ith the
ch ild which they have with the adult because they are used in a common experience by
both. The gua rante e for the sam e ma nn er of use is found in th e fact that the thing a nd the
sound arc first empl oyed in ajoint activity, as a means of setting up an active co nn ecti on
b(;(\\ ccn th e child a ncl a grow n up. Similal· ideas o r meanin gs spring up because both
186
• EDUCATION AS A SOCIAL FUNCTION
person s are engaged as pa l·tncrs ill an action where what eac h does depends upo n anrl in n u­
C!lces w hat the other does . l f tw o savages werc engaged in ajoi n! hunt for gam e, a nd a cer­
lain sign a l meant "move to th e rig ht" to the one \>."ho uttered it, and " mo vc to the left"' to tile
on e who heard it, they obvious ly cou ld not successfull y carryon thei r hunt together.
U nderstandin g on e another m eans th at objects, includi ng sound s, have the same value for
both w ith respect to carry ing on a common pursuit.
After so unds have got me an in g th rough conn ection with oth erthings emp loyed in a
joi nt undertaking, they can be used in connection with other li ke so und s to develop new
mea ni ngs , precise ly as th e things for wh ich they stan d arc combined. Thu s th e words in
w hich a child learn s a hout, say, the G reek he lm et orig in all y got a meanin g (or werc unde r­
stood) by use in an action havi ng a com mon interest and end. They now arouse a new
m ealli ng by inciting the on e w ho hea rs o r reads to rehearse imaginatively (he ac ti vi ti es in
w hi c h the helmet has its use. For the time bein g. the one w ho understand s the words
"Greek he lm et" becomes mentally a partner w ith those who u sed the he lmet. He engag es ,
through his imagination, in a shared activity . It is not easy to get thefall meaning of word s.
M ost persons probab ly stop \-vith the idca that " helmet" denotes a queer kind of headgear
a people called the Greeks once worc. We co ncl ude, accordingly, that the use of lan guage
to convey and acquire ideas is an ex tension and rcfinem ent of th e prin cip le that things ga in
meaning by being used in a shared experience or j oint act ion ; in no sense doe s it contra­
ven t that principle. Wh en words do not e nter as factors into a shared situation, either
oveltl y or imaginatively, they operate as pure physi ca l stimu li , not as having a m eaning or
intell ectual value . They set acti v ity running in a g ive n groove, but there is no accompany­
ing conscio us purpo se or mea ning. Thus, for exampl e, the plu s sign may be a stimulu s to
perform the act of wr iting o ne number un de r a nothe r and adding the numbers , but th e per­
son pei"lorming the ac t will operate muc h as an automaton wou ld unless he realizes the
meaning of what he does.
Om net result thus far is that social en v ironment forms tb e menta l and emotion a l disposi­
tion o f beh avior in indiv idua ls by engaging them in activities th at aro use a nd strengthen
celi a in impulses, th at have certain purposes and enta il certain consequences. A ch ild
grow ing up in a fam ily of musicians will inevitably have whatever capacities he has in
mu sic stimul ated, and, relatively , st imulated more than other impul ses wh ich might have
been awake ned in another environment. Save as he takes a n in terest in mu sic a nd ga ins a
certain competency in it, he is " out of it"; he is unab le to s hare in the life of the group to
which he belongs. So me kind s of participation in the life of th ose w ith whom th e indi vid­
ual is connected are inevitable; w ith respect to the m, the social environment exerc is es a n
ed ucat ive or formativ e influ e nce unconsciously and apart from any set purpose.
In savage and barbmian communities, such din;ct participat ion (consti tuting the
indirect or incidental ed ucation of which we have spoke n) furni shes a lm ost the so le intlu­
ence fo r rearing the yo ung into th e practices and be li efs of the group. Eve n in present-day
soc ieti es , it furni shes the bas ic nurture of even tbe most insistently schoo led yo uth. In
accord with th e interests and occupati ons of the group , cel1ain things become objects of
high estcem ; others of aversi on. Associat ion does not c rcatc impulses or affection and dis­
like, but it furnishes th e objec ts to wh ich they attac h themselves. The way our group or
c lass does things tends to determine the proper obj ec ts of attention , and thu s to prescribe
the directions and limits of observ ation and me mory. What is stran ge or foreign (that is to
say outside the acti viti es of the groups) tends to be morally forbidd en and inte llectually
s uspect. It seems a lm ost incredible to us, for example, that things which we know very
we ll cou ld havc csc aped recognition in past ages. W e incline to acco unt for it by attrib ut­
ing con ge nital s tupi dity to our forem nners and by assuminG~llper i or nati\c intt: lIi gence on
187

CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
our own part. B ut the expl anat ion is that th ei r modes oflife did not call fo r attention 10 su f.
facts, b ut held their minds rivcted to othe r thin gs . Just as the senses require sens ibl e objc;t
to s timulate them, so our p owers of observation, recollection, a nd im ag ination d o not worl.
s pontaneously , but are set in motion by the demands set up by current social oCCupati on,
The main texture o fdispositi on is fo rmed , independently of schooling, by sLlch infl uence,
What con, cious, deliberate teaching can do is at most to Cree the capac iti es thus form ed for
fu ller exerc ise, to pu rge them of some 0 f their grossness , and to furnish objects which
make their acti vity more productive of meaning.
W hile this " unconscious influe nce of the en vironment" is so subtle and pervasilc
that it affects cvery fibe r of character and mind , it may be worthwhi le to specify a few
directions in which its effect is most marked. First, th c habits of lan guage. FUlld amenlo l
modcs ofspeech, the bulk of the vocabulaty , nrc for med in the ordinary intercoll rse or llre
carried on not as a set means of instruction but as a social necess ity. The bGbe acq uires, a_;
we well say, the mother tongue. W hile speech habits thu s contracted may be corrected or
cven di spl aced by conscious teaching, yet, in times of excitement, intentionall y acqu ired
modes of specch often fall awuy, and individuals relapse into their really nati ve ton gll ~,
Seco ndl y, mann ers. Example is notoriously more potent than precept. G ood manncrl
come, as we say, from good breeding or rather are good breeding; and breeding is acqu ired
by habitual action, in respo nse to habitual stimuli, not by conv C)'i,ng information. Despile
th e never ending play ofcon sc ious correction and in struction, the StllTotlndi ng atmosphere
and spirit is in th e end the chief age nt in forming manners. And manners are bU l mi not
morals. Moreover, in major morals , conscious instruction is likely to be efficacious onl y
in the degree in which it fall s in with the general "wal k and conversation" of those whll
constitute the child 's soc ial e nvironment Thirdl y, good taste and aesthetic appreciation. )r
the cye is consta ntly greeted by harmoniolls objects, having el eguI1ce of form and col or, a
standard of taste naturally grows lip. The effec t of a tawdry, tlnaJTan ged, and overdeco.
rated environment works for the deterioration or ta ste, just as meage r and barren Sli t,
rOllndin gs starve out the desire for beauty. Against such odd s, consciou s teaching can
hardly do more than convcy second-hand inform ation as to what others think. Such taste
never becomcs spontan eou s and persona lly engrained , but remains a labored reminder of
what those think to whom one has bee n taught to look up. To say that thc deeper standards
ofjudgments of value are framed by the situations into which a pe rson hab itu ally cn ters is
not so mu ch to mention a fourth point, as it is to point out a fusion of those already men,
tioned . We rare ly recognize the extent in which our conscious estimates of what is worth
while and w hat is not, are due to standards of which we are not cunscious at alL But in gen­
eral it Illay be said th at the things which we take for granted without inljuily or re fl ection
are just the things which de termine our co nscious thinking and decide our conclusions.
An d th ese habitudes w hich lie below the level of reflection are just those w hich have been
formed in the constant give and take of relationship wit h others.
THE SCHOOL AS A SPECIAL ENVIRONMENT
The ch ief importance of this fOt'egoing statem en t of the educative process which goes on
willynilJ y is to lead liS to note that the onl y way in which adults consciously con trol the
land of education which the imm ature get is by controlling the environment in which they
act, and hence think and fe el. ,'lie never educate dil'ectly, but indil'cclly by mea ns of the
environment. Whether we pennit ch8nce env iro nments to do the work, or whether we
des ign e nvironments for the purpose: makes a great difference. And any env ironme nt is a
chance e nvironm e nt so far as its ed ucativ e influence is concerned unless it has been delib­
erately regulated with referen cc to its educative effe ct. An intelli gent hom c differs from an
unintelligent one chiefly in that the habits oflife and intercourse which prevail are chosen,
or at lea st co lored, by the thought of their bearing upon th e developmen t of children . But
188
• EDUCATION AS A SOCIAL FUNCTION
sc hoo ls rema in, of course , the typic al instan ce of cnv irollments fra med w ith express refer­
ence to infl uenc ing the men tal and moral d ispo sition of lh e ir mcmbers.
Rough ly speaking, th ey come into existence when social traditions are so co mplex
that a cons iderable part of the social store is commitled to w riting and transm itted throug h
written symbols. Writte n symbols are even more aIiificial or cOlwcntional than spoken;
they cnnnot be picked up in accidental intercourse w ith others. In addition, the written
form t.:nds to select and record matters which are comparal iv ely fore ign to e\ c ryday Ii fe.
Th e achievem e nts accumu lated from ge ne ration to ge neration arc d epos ited in it eve n
thou gh some of th em have fallen lemporari ly out oruse. Consequently <IS soo n as a com­
munity depend s to an y considerable e xtent upon what lies beyond its own territory and its
own im mediate generation , it mtl st rely upon th e set agency of schools to insu re adequa te
transmission of all its reso urces. To take an obvious illustration: The life of the ancient
Greeks and Roman s has profoundly innuenced our own, and yet the ways in which th ey
affe ct us do not prescnt th emselves on the surface of our ordin ary cxperie nces. 1n simi lar
fashion, peoples still ex isting, but remote in space, British, Genna ns , Italians, directly con­
ce rn Ollr own social affa il's, bUl th e naturc oCthe interact ion cannot be understood without
ex plicit statemcnt and atten tion . 1n precisely similar fashion, our dail y assoc iation s cannot
be tnlsted to make clear to th e young the part played in our actil'ities by rem ote physi cal
energies, and by ilwi sible structures. Hence a special mode of social intercourse is insti­
tuted, the school, to care for such mallerS.
This mode of association has three functions suffi ciently specific , as compared with
ordinalY associations oflife, to be noted. F irst, a compl ex civilization is too complex to be
assi milated in /01 0. It has to be broken lip into portio ns, as it were, a nd assimilated piece­
meal, in a gradual and graded way. The rdationships of our present social life are so
nume ro us and so interwoven that a child placed in th e most favorable position cou ld not
readily share in many oftll e most important of the m. N ot sharing in them, their meaning
wo uld not be communicated to him, would not become a part of his own mental disposi­
tion. There wou ld be no see in g the trees because of the fores t. Business , politics, art, sci­
ence, religion, would make all at on ce a cl amor for atte nti o n; confu,ion would be the
outcome. The first oflicc of the soci al organ we call the school is to provide a simplified
environment. It selccts the fea tures w hich are fairly fundamental and capablc of being
respondcd to by the young. Then it establishes a progress ive order, using the fac tors first
acquired as means of ga ining insight into what is more compl icated.
In the second place, it is thc business of the school environment to eliminate, so far
as possible, the unworthy features ufthe exis ting environment from influen ce upon men­
tal habitudes. It establishcs a purified mediu11l of action. Sclection aims not only at simpli­
fying but at w eeding o ut what is undesirable. EvelY society gets encumbered with what is
trivial, with dead wuod from the past, and w ith what is positivcly perverse. The school has
the duty of omitting such thin gs from the cnvironment which it supplies, and thereby doing
w hat it can to counteract their influencc in the ordi nmy soc ial environment By se lecting
the best for its exclusive use , it stri)!\:s to ree nforce the power of this best As a society
becomes marc enlightencd, it realizes that it is responsibl e not to transmit and conserVe the
whole of its existing achievements, but only such as make for a better future soci ety. Th e
school is its chief agency for the accomplishment ofth,is end.
In the third place, it is the office of th e school environment to balance the vari o us
elements in the social environment, and to see to it that t ach individual gets an opporttlnity
to escape from the limitatio lls of the social group in w hi ch he was born, and to come into
living co ntact with a broader e nvi ronment. Such lIords as "society" and "community" are
likel y to be misleading, for they have a tc.ndency to make us think there is a singk thing
corresponding to the single word . As a matter offaet, a modern society is many societies
more or less loosely connected. Each household with its immedi ale ex[Cns ion of friends
makes a society; the village or street group of playmar c;; is a co mmunity; each husiness
189
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
group, each club, is an other. Passing beyond these more int imate groups, there is in acoul .
• EDUCATION AS A SOCIAL FUNCTION

which tb ey may belong. As a society becomes more compl eK, however, it is found neces­
sary to provide a special soci al environment which shall especially look after nurtLIi'ing the
try like our own a variety ofrac cs, religious affiliations, economic di\ is ions. Inside th.
capacities of the immature . Three ofthe more important fun ctions of this special el1\ iron­
modern city, in spite of its nominal political unity, the re are probably mNe commli lli tic:
more di rf~ ring customs, tradition s, aspirations, and forms of go'.'crnment or control, than ment are: simplifying and ordering the factors of the di sposition it is wished to develop;
ex isted in an entire continent at an earli er epoch. purifying and idealizing th e existing social customs; creating a w ider a nd better balanced
Each such group exe rcises a formative influence on th e active dispOSiti ons ,,[ environment than that by whi ch the young would be likely, if left to themse h 'cs, to be
its members. A clique, a c lub, a gang, a Fag in's hou sehold of thi e ves, the pr isoners in influ enced .
a jai I. provide educati \ ~ environments for th ose who enter into their coll ecti ve or cOnjui nt
acti vi ties, as tndy as a church, a labor union, a bus in ess partnership, or a political p"ny
Each of them I, a mode of assOCiated or community life, qlllte as much as IS a famil y. J
town, or a stale. Th ere are al so communities whose members hay," little or no direct COn.
tact with on e another, like the guild of artists, the republic of letters , the members or till'
professional learned cl ass scattered over the face or th c eal1h. ror they bave aims in
common , and the activity ofeach m ember is directly modified by knowl edg e of what oth­
ers are doing.
In the olden times, the diversity of groups was largely a geographical matter. Th ere
wcre many societies, but each, within its own territory, was comparati,ely homogeneous.
But with the development ofcommerce, transpOI1ation , intercol11l11unication , and emi gra­
tion , countries like the United States arc composed of a combination of different groups
with different traditional customs. It is this situation which has, perhaps more than any
other one cause, forced the de mand for an educational institution which shall provide
something like a homogeneous and balanced environme nt for the young. Onl y in this way
can the centrifugal forces set up by juxtaposition of dificrent groups within on e and th~
sam e political unit be counteracted. The intermingling in th e school of youth of'di fTe rent
rac es, differing religions, and unlike customs creates for all a ncw and broader envi ron­
ment. Common subject matter accustoms all to a unity of outlook upon a broade r hori zon
than is visible to the members of an y group while it is isolated. The assimilative force of
the American public school is eloquent testimony to the efficacy oftiJe common and bal­
anced appeal.
Th e school has the function also of coordinating within the disposition of each indio
vidual tbe diverse influenccs of th e various social environments into which 11e enters. 011~
code prevails in the family; anothe r, on tb e street; a third, in the workshop or store; a fOllrt b.
in tbe religious association. As a person passes fl'Ol11 on e of the environment s to another.
he is s ubjected to antagoni stic pulls, and is in da nger of being split into a bcing havingdi f­
fcrcnt standards of judgment and e motion for di rferent occasions. This danger imposes
upon the school a steadying and intcgrating office .

SUMMARY
The development within the young of the attitudes and dispositions nece~ s ,,-ry to the con­
tinuous and progressive life of a society cannot takc place by direct conveyance of beliefs.
emotion s, and knOWledge. It takes place through the inte rmedi ary of tile environment. The
environment consists of the sum total of conditions which arc cOl1cemed in th e execution
of the acti\ ity charac teristic of a living being. Th e social environment consists of all the
activities offellow bein gs that are bound up in the carrying on of the activiti es of any one
of its members . It is truly educative in its effect in the degree in whi ch an indi\idual shares
or participates in some conjoint acti vity. By doin g his share in the associated activity , the
individual appropriates the purpose whi ch actuatcs it, becomes familiar with its mcthods
and subj ect matters, acquires needed skill, and is satura tcd with it s cmotional spi rit.
The deeper and more intimate educative fOlmMion of disposition comes, without
con sc ious intent, as tb e young g radually partake of the activities of the various groups to

191
190

FROM TECHNICAL
RATIONALITY TO
REFLECTION-IN.
ACTION
Donald A. Schon
INTRODUC TION
Donald Schon (193 i - 1997) was Ford Professor of Urban Studies and Education at MassacllU'
~·I
setts Institute of Technology (M IT). At the time of his dealh, Schon was Ford professor emeritus
and senior lecturer in the School of Archrtectu re and Planning Scrlon, a phlloscpher, tried t
help educators teach professionals ilow to be competent in practice He is credited with creal­
ing the concept of the refiective pract itioner The concept of a reflective practitioner is developed
in Schon's published works, which include The Rel/ective Practitioner (Temple Smith, London)
and Educating the Reflective Practitioner (Jossey Bass, San Francisco). This edited chapter,
taken from The Reflective Practitioner, focuses on bringing 'reflection ' into the centre of an
understanding of what professionals do. He argues against ' technical-rationality' as the
grounding of professional knowledge. Tho notions of reffectlon ·in-action, and reflection .
on-action were central to Schon 's efforts in this area. The former is sometimes described as
' thinking on our feet' . It involves looking to our experiences, connecting with our feelings, and
attending to our theories in use. It entails building new underslandings to inform our actions In
the situation that is unfolding. This edited cllapter examines the move from technical rationalily
to reflection-in-action and explores the process involved In various instances of professional
judgement The impact of Schon 's work on reflective practice has been Significant, wnh
many training and education programmes for teachers adopting his core ideas of the reflective
practitioner.
KEY QUESTI ONS
1_ What is the kind of knowing in which competenl practitioners engage?
2. Can It be appfled successfully to teacher education and training';
3 . In what ways is professional knowledge Similar to the kinds of knowledge presenteel in
academic textbooks?
4. In wlBt sense, if any, is there intellectual content in professional practice?
244
• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-AC
FURTHER READING
For two cril ical accounts of SchOn's Ideas, the reader should look at Smith, M. K. (2001)
'Donald Schon: learning, reflection and change' , in Ihe Encyclopedia a/ Informal Education and
Usher, R. ef al. (1997) Adult Education and tile Pastmodern Challenge (Routledge, London).
SchOn's own work which followed The Refleclive Practitioner In 1987, entitlad Educatmg the
Renective Practitioner , develor:: ~ his thinking by explaining how the reRective practlcum works
and detailing the implications for improving professionat education
- - --- - - - - -- -- --
This Reading links w ith CI1apter 14 01 Th e Routledge Education St udies Textbook.
THE DOM INANT EPISTEMOLOGY OF PRACTICE
According to the model of Technical Rationality - the view of professional knowledge
which has most powerfu lly shaped both our thinking about the profe ssions and the in st itu­
tional relations of research, education, and practice - profess ional activity consists in
instll.1m ental problem sol\ing made rigoroLis by the application of scientific theory an.d
technique. Although all occupations are concerned, on this \ iew, with the in strumental
adjustment of m eans to ends , only the professions practice rigorousl y technical problem
solving based on specialized sc ientific knowledge.
The model of Techni ca l Rationality h as exerted as great an influence on scholarly
w riting about the professions as on critical expos ~s of the role of the profession s in the
larger society. In th e 1930s, fo r example, one of the earl iest students of the profess ion s
asserted that
it is not difficult to account in general for the emergence of the new professions.
Large-scale organization has favored spcci3lintion. Speei ali /.ed occupations hav e
arisen around the new scientific kn owledge .
In a maj o r book on the profess ions, publi shed in 1970, Wilberi Moore embraced A lfred
North Whitehead ' s distinction bclv,cc n a profession and an <]Yocation. An avocntion is
" the antithesis to a profess ion " because it is " b,bed upon customury acti\ 'ities and modi­
fied by the trial and error of individual practic e."2 In contrast, \ ,joore sa id, a profess ion
inv olves th e application of general principles to specific problems , and it is a feature
of m odern soc ieties that such general principles are abundant and growing. ;
The same author argues further that professions are hi ghly specialized occupations ,
an d that
th e two primary bases lor specialization within a profess ion are (I) the substantive
lield of knowledge that the spec ialist professes to command and (2) tite technique of
production or application of knowledge over which th e specialist claims mastery4
Finall y, a recent criti c ofprofessional expertise sees the professional ' s claim to uniqu eness
as a " ... preoccupation with a specialized skill premised on an und erlyin g theory.'"
The prototypes or professional exper1ise in thi s sense are the "learned prokssions"
of m edicine and law and, close behind these, bu siness and engineering. These arc, in
N athan Glazer's terms, the ' -major" or "near-major" professions'" They are di stinct
from such "minor" professions as soc ial work, librarianship. education, divinity, and town
245
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
planning. In the es say ii'om which th ese term s a re drawn. Glaze r a rgues that the schOol..
the minor profession s are hope lessly non r igorous, depe ndent on represelllat ives or a~'.
demic disciplines, sllch as economics or po l itical science, who are superior in status to t~,
professIOns themselves. But what IS of greates t Interest j]-QI11 our pOint of view, Glaz~ .
distinction be tween major and minor professions rests on a particularly w e ll-articula t,1
version of the model of Technical Rationality. The major professions are "diSCipl ined ~
anllnamblguous end - health , success In Inlgatlon , profil- WblCh settles men's m in ds ,:
and they operate in stabl e institutional contcxts. I-Jence th ey are grounded in systenlOlti
fundamental knowledge, of wh ich scientific knowledge is the prototype,Sor else they halc
"a high component ofstTic tly technological knowledge hased on science ill the educatio~
which they provide." ) In contrast, th e minor pro fessions suffer from shiftin g , ambig
uou
ends and from unstable institutional contexts of p ractice, and are therefore unabk tn
develop a b8se of systcmatic, scientific professional knowledge. For G la2c r, th e develop.
lIlent of a scielltific kno \'.l cdge base depends 011 fixed, unambiguous ends because prole\_
sional practice is an instrumental activity . If applied science consists in cUlllulative,
empirical knowledge about the means best suited to chosen ends, how can a professiun
ground itself in science when its ends arc confused or unstabk?
The systematic knowkdge base of a profession is thought to have four essential
properties. It is speci a lized, finnly bounded , scientific, and standardized. This last point is
particular-ly important, because it bears on the paradigmatic relationship which hOlds,
according to Technical Rationality, between a profession's knowledge base and its prac­
tice. In Wilben Moore's words,
If every professional problem were in all respects unique, solutions would be at
best accidental, and therefor(: havc nothing to do w ith cxp<:r( knowled ge. What We
are suggesting, on the contrary, is thai there are su ffi c ient unifomlities in probl cllI~
and in de vices for solving thelll to quali fy thc solvers as professionals ... profes­
sionals apply very general principles, storldardized knowledge, to concrete
problems ... 10
This concept of "application " leads to a view of professional knowledge as a hierarchy ill
which "general prinCiples" occupy the high est Ie, el and "concrete problem solving" the
lowest. As Ldgar Schein has put it. ' there are threl.! components to professional knowl­
e dge:
1. An underlyii7g discipline or basic science component upon which the practice res ts
or ii'om which it is developed.
2. An applied science or "cngineeril7g" component from which many of the day-to.
day diagnostic procedures and problem-solutions are derived.
3. A skills al1d allitudina! component that concerns the actual p erfoJlllance of services
to the client, using the underlying basic and applied knowledge."
The application of basic science yields applied science. Applied science yields diagnostic
and problem-solving tcchniques which are applied in turn to the actual delivery ofserv­
ices. The order of application is also an order of derivation and dependence. Applied Sci.
ence is said to "rest on" the foundation of basic science. And the more basic and genera!
the knowledge, the higher the status of its producer.
W hen tbe representatives of aspiring professions consider the problem of rising to
ful I professional status, they often ask whether their knowledge base has the requisite
properties and whct her it is regularly applied to th..: everyday problems of practic e. Thu s,
in an articl e entitled 'The Librarian: From Occupation to Profession ," '3 the author Slates
that
246
• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
the central gap is of course: the failure to deve lop a ge neral body ofsci cntitlc knowl­
cdge bea ring precisely on this problem, in the way that the lIledical profes sion with
its auxili a ry sci enti fic fi e ld s has developed an i!llmenSe body of knowl edge with
which ItO c ure human diseases.
fh e sciences in which he proposes to ground his pro fess ion are "communication s th eolY,
the sociology or psychology of mass communications, or the psychology ofl eaming as it
applies to rcading."'4 Unfortunatel y, howeve r, he finds that
most day-to-day professional work utili zes rather concrete rule-of-thumb local reg­
ulations and rules and major c,,(alog systems ... 1he problems of selection and
organi zation are dealt with on a high Iy empiricist basi s, concretely . with little refer­
ence to general scienti.fic principles."
And a social worker, considering the same sort of question, concludes that "social work is
already a profession" because it has a basis in
theory construction via systematic research . To generate valid th.eory that will pro­
vide a solid base for professional techniques requires the applicati.on of the scien­
tific method to the service-related problems of the profession. Continued
employment of thc scienti fic method is nurtured by and in tum reinforces the ele­
ment of rationality. 16
It is by progrc>sing along this route that social work seeks to " rise within the professional
hierarchy so that it, too, might enjoy maximum prestige, authority, and monopoly which
presently belong to a few top professions.""
If the model of Technical Rationality appeared only in such statements of intent, or
in programmatic descriptions of professional knov.lcdge, we might have some: doubts
about its dominance. But the model is also embedded in the institutional context of pro­
fessionallife. It is implici.t in the institutionalized relatiolls of research and practiCe, and in
the normative c urricula of professional education. Even when practj t ioner~ , educators,
and re, carchers question the mod e l of technical rationality, they are party to institutions
that perpetuate it.
As one would expect from the hierarchical model of professional knowledge,
research is institutionally separate from practice, connected to it by carefully defined rela­
tionships of exchange. Researchers are supposed to provide the basic and applied science
from which to derive techniques for diagnosing and solving the problems ofpractice. Prac­
titioners arc suppo sed to furnish researchers with problems for study and witb tests of the
utility of research results. The researcher's role is di stinct from, and usually considered
superior to , the role of the practitioner.
In the evolution of every profession th ere emerges the researcher-theoretician
whose role is that of sci entific investigation and theoretical systematization.
Tn technological professions, a division of labor thereby evolves between the
theory-oriented and the practice-oriented person. Witness the physician who
prcfers to attach himself to a medical research center rather than to ente r pri vate
practice .. I
In a similar vein, N athan Glazer speaks of the sociologist, political scientist, or economist
who, when he is in\'ited to bring his discipline to the school ofa minor profession, mani­
fests it level of status disturbingly superior to that of the resident practitioners. \nd in
schools of engineering. which have been transformed into schools of engin eering science,
247
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
the en g ineering scie ntist te nd s to place hi s superior status in thc selv ice ofv alucs d ifJ;,
from those oflh e engineeri ng profes s ion. ") ·rtm
Th e hi erarchic al sepal.·ation of research and practice is also reflected in the non
tive curriculum of the pml'css iona l school. Here th e order of the curr iculum pa rall e l s~lhj,
order in which th e components of professiona l knowledge are "a pp li ed." T he rule is; lir ~
t he relevant basic and applied sc icnce; then, the skills of appli cation to real-world p rn~~
le rn s of practice. l~ dgar Schei n 's study of profess iona l education led him to desCribe Ih.
domlllant curm.:ul ar patte rn as fo llows:
Most profess ional schoo l curri c ula ca n bc analyzed in tellllS ufthe '[a rm and ti lll ingul
these three elements [of professional knmdedge]. Usuall y the profes<;ional curricu
hun starts with a common science core followed hy the applied sc ience clements. The
attitudin al alld sk ill components are usu ally bbclled "practicum" or "clinical WQlk
and may be provided simu ltaneously with the applied science components or they
may occur el cn latcr In the profeSSIonal education, dcpc ndlng upon th.e avallahility lif
clients or the ease of simulating the realities that the professional will have to face.'"
Schein's use of the tcrlll "skill" is of more than passing intel·est. From the point of view of
th e mode l of Techn ica l Rationa lity institutionalized in th e professional curriculu lTI, real
knowledge li es in the theories a nd techniques of basic and applied science. Hence, these
di sc iplines shou ld co me first. "S kills" in the use of theory a nd technique to so lve co ncrete
problems should come late r on. ~\' h e n the student has learned the relevant sc ience - [jr~t
because he cannot leam sk ills of application until he has learn ed a ppli cab le know ledge;
and secondly, hecause sk ills are an ambig uou s, secondary kind of know ledge. There i,
something disturbing about ca lling them "k.now ledge" at all.
Again, medicine is the prototypical example . Ev er since the Flexner Report, which
revoluti onized medical education in the early decades of this century, medica l schoo ls
have devo ted th e first two yeal'S of stud y to the bas ic sc iences - ch emistry , physiology,
pathol ogy · as "t he appropriate foundati on for later clinical trainin g."" Even the physical
arrangc me nt of thc curriculum reflects the basic div ision among the elements of profes·
s io nal k now ledge:
The separati on of the medical schoo l c urriculum into I'NO disjuncti ve stages , thl'
pn.:(;lini cal a nd the clinical , reflects the d ivis io n betwee n theory a nd practice. The
division also appears in the locat io n of training a nd in medical school faci lities. The
sciences of biochemistry, phys iology, pathology a nd pharmacology are leamed
fr om class rooms and laboratori es , that is, in forma l academic settings . More practi ·
cal tt'ain ing, in clinical arts such as intema llllcdicine, obstetrics an d pediatr ics, takes
place in ho sp ital clinics, within actual institutions of deli ve ry ,"
And teaching ro les tend to reflect the ,a me division:
Medica l school faculties tend to be dividcd between the Ph D ' s and MD's, bctwee ll
teac he rs of basic sc ie nce a nd those in cli nica l programs 2l
E ven th o ugh th e law might be thou ght to have a dubious hasis in scie nce, the introduction
of the still-dom inant pattc:m of legal education - by C hristopher Co lum bus Langdell ~t
H arvard University in the 1880s an d 1890s - followed the no rmative curri cul a r model. In
hi s address before the Harvard Law School in I R)l 6, Langdell argued that " fi rst, law is a
science, and secondly ... all ava ilable materi als of that sciellce are contain ed in printed
books,"" Langdell claim ed th at legal ed ucation is better condu cted in a law school than in
a lawyer' s office because legal stud y is based upon broad, scientificall y determined pri n'
ciples which cut across state !illes.
248
• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION - IN-ACTION
For Langucll claimed law wao a SCil.:l1n: ... thi s m.:ant that it; principl es could be
developed from an alysis of pr-ior cO U.rt dec is ions a nd cou ld be lIsed to predict sub­
seq uent ones. Just as Charles William El iot was introduc ing the expcri me ntallabo­
ratory into the study of nahlra l sciences at Harvard, so it was Lan gdcll' s claim , with
the study of previous ly decided cases ."
Even the famOllS "ca,e mcth od" was origin all y grounded in the belief that the teachin g of
sc ient ific prin cip les should pre(;cdc the development of sk ill s in their appli cation .
In hi s recent review of the Harvard School of Business Administration, the schoo l
w hi ch fi rst adapted La ll gdell's method to man age ment education, Derek Bok, the curre nt
pres iden t of Harvard University, a rgues against case method. His argument reveals bo th
hi s impli c it beliefin the normative curricu lum of profess ional education and his adh erence
to thl.: mode l of techn ica l rati onality .
Bok begin s by noting that case teaching has certai nly helped to keep professo rs
"closely invo lved w ith the activiti es of rea l corporations" a nd has " forced them to work
continuou sly at the ir teaching. "'· But he worries that
a lth ough the cas e is an excellent device for teachillg students to apply th eory a nd
tec hnique, it does not provide an ideal way of co mmunicating concepts and analytic
m ethods in the first instance."
Exclusive concentration on cases leav es students little time to "master ana lytic techniqu c
a nd co nceptual ma terial " - a limitation that has become more critical as "th e co rporale
wo rld g rows more co mplex" -and it prcl'Cnts faculty from e ngag in g in "intens iv e work to
develop bette r gene ralizations. theories a nd methods th at can eve ntually be used to attack
corporate probl e ms in more elTective ways, "" What is especiall y inte restin g in thi s arg u­
ment is its misreadi ng of Il hat man y bu s in ess case teac hers would co nsider the hea rt of
their teac hing: carefully guided an8 1ysis of innumerab le cases dra wn from rea.l- worl cl
busin ess contexts in order to help students develop the generic proble m·sol ving skills
essent ial to effective management. Although some of the strongest advocates of case
teaching admit that they cannot define these skills or relate them to general theory, they
believe that the case method stands on its own un ique merits .'9 Presid ellt Bok has made a
contrary assumption, He assum es that the business school faculty accepts both the mission
to develop "better gc.:neralization s, theories and methods" and the norm a tive id ea ofa cur­
riculu m ";hic h places general princ iples and methods before the skil.ls of application. To
faculty members who thin k they arc c ngaged in a very d iffere nt sort of educatio nal enter­
pri se, he a rg ues fro m an unquestioned be lief in a no rmati ve c urric ulum which deri ves from
the mode l of Techni cal Ration ality.
THE ORIGINS OF TECHNICAL RATIONALITY
It is striking that the domin ant model of professional knowledge seems to its proponents to
require ve ry little just,ificati on. How co mes it that in the second half of the twentieth cen­
tury we find in our uni licrsitic.:s, e mbedded not only in men 's minds but in the institutions
themselves, a dominant view of professional knmvledge as th e appli cation of scientific
theory a nd technique to the instrumen tal prob lems of practice?
The a nswer to this qu estion li es in the last three hundred years of the history of
Weste rn id eas and in stitutions . Tec hnical Rationality is the heritage of Positivism, the
powerru l philosophical doctrin e that g rew up in the nin ctee nth cenhll')' as a n account of th e
ri sc of science and techllol ogy a nd as a social move me nt a imed at a ppl ying the achiev e­
ments ofscience and technol ogy to the well-being of mankind. T echni ca l Rationality is the
Pos itivist epistemology of practice. It became institutionali zed in the modern uni versity,
249
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
fo unded in the late n inetee nth ce nt ury w hen Positi vism was at its heighl, an d in the prll'
fessio na l schoo ls whic h securecl thc ir place in th e univers ity in the early decades of the
tw e nti eth ce ntu ry .
EMERGING AWARENESS OF THE LIMITS OF
TECHNICAL RATIONALITY
Altho ug h it was in the emly decades o f th e twentieth ce ntury th at oc cupa tion s pro fess ion_
alized and profess ional school s soug ht thci r places in thc uni v er~ ities , it was World War II
that gave ~I Illaj o r new impetus both to the Techno log ical Prog ram a nd to th e Posi tivl SI
epi ste molol!': of prac tice.
In ' \-orld \"ar IJ , kchnol ug ists drew upo n scientific research as never befo re. Van­
nevar Bush c l-eated the first la rge-scale natio na l resea rc h and develo pmc nt institute, the
Nati o nal Research and Deve lopment Corpora ti on. The ne w di sc iplin e of operat ions
researc h g rew out of the /\merican and Briti sh effOIt s to use appl ied mathe mati cs for bomb
track ing and sub ma rin e sea rch. A nd the jI,!a nh attan proj ect became the: ve ry sy mbol of the
successfu l use of sc ience-based techn ology fo r nationa l ends. Its lesson see med to be this:
Ifa great social obj ective could be clea rly de fin ed, if a nati onal commitme nt to it coul d be
mu stcl·ed, if unl imited resources could be po ured into th e necessa lY research a nd d e v~ lop.
ment, then any s uc h o bjective could be achie ved . The g reatest bcn '~ fi c i ary of thi s lesson
was th e ins titutio n of research and developme nt itse lf. But as a s ide effect, there was also
a rein forcement of th e id ea of sc ien tific rcscarch as a basis fo r profcss iona l pract ice.
Following Wo rld War II , the U nited States go\ e rn ment bega n an unpara ll eled
increase in the ra te of spend ing for research. As government s pendin g for research
in creased, research in stitut ions pro liferated. Some were associated with the uni versities.
oth ers stoo d o uts id e them. All we re orga nized around the produ ctio n of new scienti fi c
knowled ge a nd were largely promoted on th e basis of th e propos iti on that the producti on
of new scienti fi c kn ow ledge could be used to create wealth , achieve natio nal goals,
improve hu ma n li fe , and so lve social pro ble ms. Nowhere w as th e rate of inc rease in
research spend ing more drarnatic , and now here wel-e the res ults o f that sp en din g more vis­
ible, thnn in the fi e ld ol ll lee! icin e. Th e great centers o f med ica l research and teaching were
expand ed, a nd new ones were created. T he medi ca l researc h center, with its medical
schoo l a nd its teaching ho spi ta l, beca me th e institut iona l moe!el to which other pro fess ions
asp ired. He re \ntS a solid base o f fundam enta l sc ie nce, a n equ all y so li d body of a ppli ed
cli nical sc ie nce, a nd a pro rc~s i o n w hi ch had geared itself to impl ement the ever- cha ngin g
products of research. Other pro fessions, hopin g to achi eve so me of medi cine's e lTcctivc­
ness a nd p resti ge, sou ght to e mula te its link age of research and teach ing instituti ons, its
hicra rch y o f research and clini cal roles, and its syste m for con necting bas ic a nd appl ied
researc h to practi ce.
The presti ge and appa rent success of the med ical a nd engi neering mod e ls exelt ed 3
great a ttrac ti on for the soc ial sc ie nces. 1n such fie lds as education, soc ia l wo rk, pl a nning,
and po licy making, social sc ienti sts atte mptec1 to do research, to appl y it, and to ed ucate
pract iti o ne rs, a ll according to th eir perccpt ions of the mode.ls o f medi cine a nd eng in eeri ng.
Ind eed , tlte ve lY lang uage o f social sc ie ntists, ric h in refe l·e nccs to measure ment, con­
troll ed expe rimc nt, app li ed sc ie nce, laboratori es , a nd c lini cs, '.vcs strikin g in its rev eren ce
for the:se m ode ls.
In th e mid - 1950s, the Sov iet launch ing of Sp utni k ga ve a further impe tu s to nati onol
investme nt in sc ience a nd techno logy. Sputn ik shocked A mcrica in to in creased s upporl
fo r scie nce, especial ly bas ic sc ience, and created a new se ns e of urge ncy a bout th e bui ld­
ing of a soc i<:ty based o n science . Suddenl y we beca me ac utel y a W;1 re o f a nation al short­
age of profess iona ls - scie nti sts and eng inee rs, but also ph ys icia ns a nd teach ers - who
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• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
were see n as necessary to th e deve lopm ent and app licat io n o f sci enti fi c know ledge. I t was
the cumulati ve impact of these nati ona l res ponses to Wo rld Wa r II a nd Sp utn ik whic h set
the stage fo r the triumph o f professio nali sm, th e trium ph ce le brated in the Daedal1ls issue
of 1963 .
Between 1963 a nd 1982, howeve r, both th e ge ne ra l pub lic and the profe:ss iona ls
have become in creas ing ly aware oC the fl aws and lil1lilat io ns of the proJess ions .
Fro m th e perspective of Tec hni ca l Rational ity, professional pr<lcti ce is a process of
prob lem solVing. P ro blems of eho icc or dec ision a rc so lved through the se lection , fro m
avai la ble mea ns, of th e one best suited to estab li shed ends. But \\ ith this e mphas is o n prob­
lem so lving, we ignor e prob le m selling, th ~ process by whi ch we de fi ne the decis io n to be
made, the ends to be achieved, the mea ns which m ay be c hosen. 1n real-worle! practice ,
prob le ms do not present the mselves to the pract itio ne r as g ivens. They mu s t be eO ll$tr ucted
fro m the mate ri als of prob le matic s itua tions w hic h are p uzzli ng, troub lin g , and uncel1aill .
In o rder to convert a prob le mati c situ ation to a pro bl e m, a practi tioner mu st do a ce rta in
kind of work. He mus t make sense of an uncertain s itu ation that in iti all y makes no sense .
Whe n p rofessionals co nside r what road to build , fo r exa m pl e, th ey dea l usuall y with a
com plex a nd ill- defi ned situat io n in which geographic, topo logical , finan c ia l, economi c,
and po li tica l iss ues are all mi xed up togethe r. Once they have so mehow dec ided what roa d
to build and go o n to cons ide r how bes t to buil d it, th ey may have a prob le m th ey can sol ve
by th e appl icati on of available techn iques ; but when the road th ey ha ve built leads un ex­
pectedl y to th e destruction of a neighbo rhood, they may find themse lves again in a si tu a­
tio n ofun certaillty.
It is this sort of situ a ti o n that profess io na ls a re com ing increas ing ly to see as centra l
to th eir prac ti ce. They are com in g tu recognizc that alth ollg h problem setting is a necessa ry
condition for technica l problem solv in g, it is not itself a teclul ical probl e m . W hen we set
the prob le m, we se lect what we w ill treat as th e " things" of the situa ti on, we set the bo un d­
a ri ", of our attentio n to it, and we impose upon it a coherence w hic h allo'.\, us to say w hat
is wrong ,md in w hat directi ons the situation needs to be c hanged. P roblem setting is a
p rocess in which, inte racti vel y, we name th e th ings to whic h we will attend andfrmn e the
context in w hi ch we w ill attend to them.
E ven w he n a pro ble m ha" been constru cted, it may esc;:Jpc the categories of app li ed
science because it presents it:;,_lfas unique o r un stab le. In order to so lv e a prohle m by the
app lication of e xisting th eo ry or techniqu e, a practiti oner must be able to map th ose cate­
gories on to feat ures of the pract ice situati on. W he n a nutriti o ni st finds a di e t e! efi cien l in
lysine, for examp le, dietalY supp leme nts kn ow n to co ntain lys in e can be recomme ndee! _A
phys ic ian w ho recogni zes a case of meas le s can map it o nto a system of techniques for
d iagnosi s, trca tme nt , and prog nos is. But a uniqu e case fa lls o utside the ca tegories of
applied the:ory; a n un stable s itu ation s lips ou t fro m und .: r them. A ph ysician cannot apply
standa rd tec hniqu es to a case tha t is not in th e books . A nd a nUir itionist atte mpting a
p lan nee! nutriti o nal in terve nti on in a rural Central Amer ica n commu nity may d iscover th at
th e in tervention fa ils because the s ituat ion has become something othe r t ha n the one
planned fo r.
Tec hnica l Rationa lity depends o n agreemen t abo ut e nds . When ends are fi xed and
c lear, th en th e dec ision to act can prese nt itsc lfas an instrumental pro ble m. But when e nds
are confused a nd con fli cting, there is as yet no "prob le m" to so lve . A co nfl ict of e nd s can­
not be reso l ved by th e use of techniques deriv ed fr o m appli ed research. It is rathe r thro ug h
th e nontec hni ca l process of fra m ing th e probl em a ti c s itu a ti on that we m ay o rganize a nd
clarify both th e end s to be ac hi e ved and th e possi bl e means of achieving th e m.
S imila rly, w hen the re are confl icti ng parad ig ms of profess ional practi ce, such as we
find in the plura li sm of psyc hiatty , soc ial work, or town pl a nn ing. there: is no clearl y esta b­
lished contex t for the use o ftechniqu c. T here is co ntcntion over mul tiple ways o ffram ing
the p racti ce rol e, each o f w hich cntra ins a distincti ve app roach to probl e m sct1 ing and
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 CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
sol ving. And w hen practitioners do reso lve conflicting rol e fi-al1les, it is throu gh a killd
inquiry which falls outside th e mod el of Techni ca l Rationality. Ag a in, it is (he \\Iorl
nami ng and fr'am ing th at creates the con diti ons necessa ry to the exercise of t eChn:~'
expertr se.
We can readily und erstand, therefore, not only why ullcel1a inty, uniqueness, illo
bility, alld ,",due CO il nict are so trollblesom;.: to the Positivist epistemology of practice, b,­
also why p ract ition ers beHi nd by this ep istemology find them selves caug ht in a dilelllrn'
Th e ir definition of rigorous professional kno\\ledge excl udes p henom ena they hal'
learned to see as centra l lo the ir prac tice. A nd artistic ways of coping wi th th ese Phenom(
ena do not quali!y, fo r them, as ligorou s profess ional know ledg~.
This dilemma of"rigor or relevance" ari ses more acu tel y in some an;as OfpraCI It,.
than in others. In the vari ed topography of professiona l practice, there is a high, hard
ground where practitioners can make cffec ti ve usc of research-based th eo ry and tech
nique, and there is a swampy lowland where situations are co nfu sing " mt!sses" incapa blt
of techni cal so lution . The difficulty is that tht;: problems of the high ground, howe ver great
their technical interest, are often relative ly unimporta nt to c lien.ts or to the la r-ger society,
while in the swamp are the probl ems o f greatest human co ncern. Shall the practitioner stay
on the hi g h, hard ground where he can practice rigoroLisly, as he lIndersta nds rigo r, but
where he is constrained to deal with problems, of relatively little social importance? Or
shall he desce nd to the swamp w here he can engage the most important and challen gill !
pro blem s if he is willing to fo rsake technical rigor?
REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
When we go abo ut the spontan eo us, intuitive performance of the actions of everyday Iili;,
we show ourselves to be knowledgeable in a $pecia l wa y. Often we can not say wha t it i,
that IV(; know. \Vh cn we try to describe it we find ourselves at a loss, or we produce descrip­
ti ons that aloe obviously inappropria te . Glir knOWing is ordinu;'i/J' tacit, implicit in Our pliT.
terns ofaction and in ourfeelfor the stuf/with which we are dealing. It seems righl to our
that Our knowing is in Our action.
Si milarly, the workaday life of the professional depends on tacit kno wing-in-acti on.
Every competent prac tition er can recognize ph e nomen a - families of sy mptollls associ ­
ated wi th a particular diseas e, peculiarities ofa certain kind of building site, irTegularitie,
of materials or stll.Jctures -- for which he cannot give a reasonab ly accurate or complete
description. In hi s day-to-day practice he ma kes innumerable judg rllcn.ts of quality, ror
w hich he cannot state adequate cr iteria, and he displays skills for whi ch he cannot state the
rules and procedUres. [ ven whe n he makes consc iou s us e of research-based theories nnd
techniques, he is dependent on tacit recognitions,judgments, and skillful perfomlan ces.
On the other han d, both ordinary peop le and professional practitioners often thi nk
abo ut what they are dOing, sometimes cven wh ile doing it. Stimulated by surprise, they
hrm thought back on action and on th e knowing w hich is implicit in actio n. They may as~
them och es, for exa mple, ·- I,.\'hat feat ures do 1 notice when! recognize this thin g? Wh at are
the criteria by which I make thi sju dgment? What proced ures a m I enacting wh en j perfoml
thi s sk ill ? How am I fra ming th e problem that I am trying to solve?" Usually refl ection on
knowing-in-action goes together w ith refl ection on the stuff at hand. There is some puz­
zling, or troubl ing, or interesting phenomenon with which the indi\idual is tryi ng to deal.
As he tries to make sense of it, he also re fle cts on the understandin gs which h,we been
implicit in his action, understandings w hich he surfaces , criti cizes, restnrctllres, and
em bodies in further action.
It is this entin; process of reflection- in-actio n which is central to the "art" by which
prac titi oners sometimes deal we ll with situa tion s of un certa inty, ins tabili ty, uniq uencss,
and va lue co nfli ct.
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• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITV TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
KI1Oll'ing-in-actiol1. Once we put as ide lhc model of Techn ical Rati onality , whi ch
lead s us to think of intelligent practice as an applicatioll of know ledge to instrumenta l
deci sions, there is noth ing strange a bout the idea th at a kind of kilo w in g is inherent in inte l­
lige nt action. Common se nse admits th e category of know-how, and it does not stretch
comm on sense very much to say th at the know-h ow is in the action - that a tightrope
r
wa lk er 's know-how, for example, lies in , and is revealed by, the way he takes his trip
across the wire, or that a big-leag ue pitehcr ' s know-how is in his way of pitching to a bat­
ter's weak ness, changing his pa ce, or distributing hi s energies over th e course of a gamc.
T here is nothing in common sens e to m ake us say that know- how consists in rules or pl ans
w hich we entertain in th e mind prior to action. A lthou gh we sO l11dirm:s think before act­
ing, it is also tru e that in muc h of the spontaneous behavior of skillful prac tice we reveal a
kind of knowing w hich does not stelll from a prior in te llc ctual operation. As Gilbert Ryl e
has put it,
What distinguishes sensible from silly operations is not their parentage but their
proced ure, and this holds no less for inte ll ectual than for practi ca l performances.
"Intelligent" cannot be defined in term s of"inte llechlal" or "knowing h()1\·'" in terms
of "knowing that"; " thinking what I am doin g" does not co nnote "both thinkin g
what to do and doing it." When I do something intelli gcntly . . . I am do ing one thing
,l a nd not two. My performa nce has a spec ial procedure or man ner, not special
a ntecede nts. ' o
And Andrew Harri so n has rcccntly p ut the same thought in this pithy phrase: when some­
on e acts intellig en tl y, he "ac ts hi s mind .""
Over the years, several write rs on the epistemology ofpractiee have been struck by
th e fac t that skillful action often reveals a "k nowing more than we can say. " They ha ve
in ve nted va rious names for this so rt of knowing, and have drawn their exampl es from dif­
ferent domains of practice.
As early as 1938, in an essay called "Mind in Everyday Afla irs," Chestcr Barnard
distinguished "thinking proces scs" from "non-logical process es" which are not capable of
being expressed in words or as reason ing, and which a.re only mad e known by ajudgment,
decision, or action .32 Barnard ' s cxa mples include judgments of distance in golf or ba ll­
throwing, a high-scho ol hoy so lving quad ratic eq uations, and a practiced accountant who
can take " a balance s heet of considerable complex ity a nd within minutes or even seconds
get a significant set of facts from it."" Such processes may be unconscious or they may
oc cur so rapidly th at " they could not be a nalyzed by the persons in whose brain they take
place."" Of the high-school mathematician, Barnard says, mer norably, "He could not
w rite the text books wh ich are regis tered in his mind. " '; Barnard be lieves that our bias
toward thin ki ng blinds us to th e non-log ica l processes w hi ch are omnipresent in effective
practice.
Michael Polanyi, who invented th e phrase " tac it knO\\'ing," draws examples from
the recogniti on offaces and the use of tools. Ifwe know a person's face, we can recognize
it among a thou sa nd, indeed, am o ng a million, though we usually cannot tell how we rec­
og nize a face we know. Similarly, we can recognizc the moods of the human fac e w ith out
being able to tell, "except quite vague ly,"'· by ""'hat signs we know them. V, hen we learn
to use a too l, or a probe or stick for feeling our way, our initial awareness of its impact on
our hand is transfo rm ed " into a sense of its point touching the objects we are exp loring" "
In Polanyi's phrase, we attend " from" its impact on our hand ' ·to" its effect o n th e things to
which we are appl yin g it. Tn this process , whi ch is e s se nti ~ 1 to the aCCJuisition ofa skill , the
fee lings of which we are initially aware become internali zed in our tacit knowing.
Chris Alexander, in his Notes Toward a Synthes is ofForll1,JS co ns iders the knowing
involved in design. He believes th at we can often recognize and correct the ' -had fit " ola
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CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
form to its context, but that we usually cannot describe the rules by which we fi nd U IiI t
or rec ogn ize the con-ected rOml to be good_ Traditional artifacts evolve Cultura lly thl
successi ve detections and correc tions of bad fit until th e reS Ulting for ms are good_ Thuo
genc rations the Slovakian peasants made beau Ii rul shawls woven ofyarns which had ~ I.
dippcd in hOlllcmade dyes. When aniline dyes were made available to them, "the gIO~'
the sh~ \d, was spoiled." '9 The shawlmakers had no innate ability to make good , hawJs "
"we rc simply able, as many of us are, to rec ognize bad sha wls and the ir Own rnlMak
Over th e generations .. - wh ene ver a bad one; was made , it was recogni zed as SUch and
th c rdore not repealed.''''' The introducti on ofaniline dyes disrupted the cultural prOces,,,,
des ig n, for the shawl-makers co uld not produce wholly new dc:s igns of hi gh qua li ty: Iht
co uld only r~eoglJi ze " bad fit" withi n a familiar pattern.
Ruminating on Alexander 's exa mple, G eoffrey Vickers points Ollt thar It ,
not only alti stic judgments which are; based on a sense of fornl which ca llilot be rull~
articul a ted : _
artis ts , so far from be ing alone in this, ex hibit most clearly an oddity which is pre•.
c nt in a ll s uch judgments. We can recognize and describe deviati on s from a IIOffil
velY much more clearly than we ca n describe the norm itself."
For Vickers, it is through such tacit norm s that all of us make the judgments, the qua ln .,­
tive appreciations of situations, on which our practical competen ce depends .
Psycholinguists have noted that we speak in conformity with rules of phonolo!(}'
and sy ntax which most of us cannot describe." A lfred Schultz and hi s inte ll ectual dcscen
dants have analyzed the tacit, everyday know-how that \\·c hring to social inte raction s such
as the ritual s ofgrecl ing, ending a meeting, or s tand in g in a crowded elevatol-.'I Birdwhi ~
tel! has m ade comparable co ntTi butions to a description of th e tacit k nowkdge em bodied
in our use and recogn ition of mo vement and g<.:s tL1l"<:." In these domains, too, we behave
according to rules and procedure; that we cannot us ually describe and of which we an:
often unaware.
In examples lik e these, kn ow ing has the following properties:
• There are act ions, recognitions, a nd judgments which we know how to carTY out
spo ntaneu us ly; we do not have to thin k abou t them prior to orduring their perfoml­
ance .
• We are often un awa re of having learned to do th ese things; we simply find ourse lves
doing the m.
• In some cases, we were once aware of the und ers tandings which were s ubsequent ly
internalized in our feeling for the stuff of action III other cases, we Illay ne ver have
been aware of them. In both cases, howe\'cr, we are usuall y unable to describe the
knowing which our action rC\t:als.
It is in this sense that I speak of knowing-in-action , the characteristic mod e of ordinary
practical knOWledge.
Rejlecling-in-action. If common sense recogni zes know ing-in -actio n, it also recog­
nizes that we sometimes think about what we a re doing. Phrases li ke "thinking on your
fe et," " keepi_ng your wits about you," and " leallling by do ing" suggest not only tha t we call
think about doing but that we can think about doing so meth ing while doing it. Some of the
most interesting examples of this process occur in the midst ofa performance.
Big-league baseball pitchers speak, for example, of the experience of " nnding the
groove":
Only a few pitchers can co ntro l the whole g~me with pure phys ica l ability. The rest
ha ve to learn to adjust once they- re out there. If they Clm 't, they're dead ducks_
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• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
[You get) a spec ial feel for the ball, a ki nd of command that lets you repeat the
exact same thing yo u did before that proved successful.
Finding you r groove ha s to do \'. ith studying those winning habit:; and trying to
repeat them e very tim e you perfo rm . ­
I do not who lly und erstand what it mean s to " find the groove." It is elear, however, that the
pitchers are talking about a part icul ar kind of refle ctio n_ \Vhat is "Icaming to adjust once
you're out there" ,! Presumabl y it invo lves noticing how you have bee n pitching tu the bat­
ters and ho w we ll it has been working, and on th e bas is of th ese thoughts and observations ,
changing the way YOll have been doing it. When you gd OJ "feel for the ball" that lets you
" repeat the exact sa me thing you did before that proved s uccessful ," you arc noticin g, at
th e very least, th at you hayc bce;n doing something ri ght, and your "rceling" allows you to
do that so mething again. Whe n you "study those w innin g habits," you are thinking about
the know-how th at has enabled you to win. The pitc hers seem to be tal king about a kind of
re flecti on o n their patterns of ac tion , on the situations in which they are performing, and on
the know- how implicit in the ir performance. They are reflecting on act ion an d, in some
cases, reflec ting in acti on.
Whe n goo d j azz music ians improvi se togeth er, th ey also manifest a " fee l for" th e ir
material and they make on-the-spot adjustm ents to the so unds they hear. Listening to one
another and to thems elves, they fee l where th e musi c is go ing and adjust their playi ng
accordingly. They can do this , first of all, beca use their collecti ve effort at mu sical inve n­
ti ollmakes use of a schema - a metric, melodic, a nd harmoni c schema familiar to a ll the
participants - which gives a predicta ble o rder to th e piece. In addition, each of the musi­
c ians has at the ready a repertoire of mu sica l figures which he ca n deli ver at appropriate
moments. Improvisa tion co nsists in va rying , co mbining , and recombining a set of figures
within the schema which bounds a nd gives co he rence to the performance. As the musi­
cians feel the direction of th e music th at is developing out of the ir interwoven contribu­
tions , they make new sense of it and adjust their performance to the new sense they have
made _They are reflecting-in-action on the music they are collectively making and o n their
individu al contributions to it, thinking what they are doing and , in the proc e~s , evo lving
their way of doing it. Of course, we need not suppose that they rencct-in-action in the
medium of words. More likely, they reflec t through a " [cel for the music" which is not
unli ke th e pitche r'S "feel for the ball."
Much reflection-in-action hin ges on the experience of surprise. When intuitive,
s pontaneous perfonnance yields no thing more than the results expected for it, then we te nd
not to th ink about it. But when intuiti\·c performance leads to surpri ses, pleasing and prom ­
ising or unwanted , we may respolld by reflec ting- in-act ion. Likc the baseball pitcher, we
may reflect o n our '\\ inning habits" ; or like th e j azz musician , on ou r sc nse of the mus ic
we ha ve been maki ng; or like the dtOsigner, on the misfit we have lmintentionally cre;ated.
In such pro cesses, re llection tends to focu s interactively on the outcomcs of action, the
action itself, and the intuitive know ing imrlicit in the action.
L et us consider an example whi ch rcveals these processes in some detail.
In an article e ntitl ed " If you want to get ah ead , get a theory ," Inhelder and
Karm il off-S mi th 46 describe a rathe r unus ual experiment concelllin g "childre n 's processes
of discovelY in ac ti on "4) They asked their subj ects to balance wooden blocks o n a met al
bar. Some of the bl ocks were plain wuoden blocks, but othe rs we;re consp icuously or
inconspi cuous ly weighted at one end. Th e authors attend ed to the spontaneous processes
by which th e children tried to learn about the propelties of the blocks, balance them on the
bar, and regul ate th eir ac tions after s ucc ess or failure.
They fo und that virtually all childrell aged si x to se ven began the task in the sa me way:
all blocks we re ,yste ma tica lly first tri ed at their geometric center. 4S
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CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
And they fo und th at sli ghtly ol der chi ldn.:n would not only place all blocks at their geo­
metric center but that
when asked to add small bl ocks of vary ing shapes Gnd s izes to blocks already in ba l­
ance, th ey added up to tell blocks precariously 0 11 <': o n top of th e oth ei- at the geo­
metri c center rath er than distributing them at th e cxtremiti cs 49
They exp lain this pers istent and virtually universal behav ior by attributing to the ch ildren
w hat they call a "theory-in-acti on": a "geo metric ce nter theo lY" of balancing, o r, as one
child put it, a theo ry that " thin gs al\,-ays balan ce in the middle_"
Of course, when the children tried to balance the counter-weighted blocks at thei r
geometric centers, they failed _How did they res pond to failure" Somc c hildren made wh at
th e authors ca lled an "action-response_"
They now placed the very same blocks mo re and more systematicall y at th e geo­
metri c center, with only very slight corrections around this point. They showed con­
si derabl e su rpri se at not being able to balan ce the blocks a second time (,'H eh,
wh at 's go ne wrong with this one, it worked befo re") ___ Action sequences then
became redu ced to: Place carefully at geo metric center, correct very slightly around
this ce nter, abandon all attempts, declaring the object "impossible" to balance'o
Other ch ildren, genera ll y between the ages of seven and e ight, responded in a very differ­
ent way_ When the counterweighted blocks fai led to balance at their geometric ccnters,
these children began to de-center them. They did thi s firs t with conspicuous ly counter­
weighted blocks_ Then
gradually, and often almost reluctantly, thc 7 to 8 year old s began to make correc­
tions also on the inconspicuous we ight blocks ___ At this point, we obser\'t:d man y
pauses during action seq uences on the in consp icuous weight items_"
Later sti ll ,
As the children were now reall y beginning to question the generality of their geo­
metri c center th eory, a negative response at th e geo metric center sufficed to have th e
child rapidly make corrections toward the point ofba lance.s>
And fina ll y,
children paused before each item, roughl y assessed the weight distribution of th e
block by liftin g it ("you ha ve to be careful, so metim es it 's just as heavy on each side,
sometimes it' s heav ieron one side"), infened the p robab le po int of balance and th en
placed the object immediately velY close to it, without making any attempts at first
balancing at the geometric center."
Th e children now behaved as though they had come to hold a theory -in -action th at blocks
balance, not at their geometric centers, but at the ir centers of gravity_
This second pattern of response to en-or, the authors call "theory-response." Chil­
dren wo rk their way toward it through a series of St<lgCS_ When th ey are first confronted
with a numb,"r of evcnts w hi ch refute their geomet l-i c center theories-in-action, they stop
an d tbink Then, start in g with the conspicuous-weight blocks, they begin to make CO ITCC­
tions away frol11 the geometric center. Finally, when they have really abandoned their ear­
li er theories- in-action, they we igh all the blocks in the ir hands so as to infer the probable
256
• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
point of balance _As th ey shift their theories of bal ancin g from geometric center to center
of gra vity_they a lso shift frolll a "s uccess orientation" to a " theory ori entation _" Positi ve
and negat ive results co me to be taken not as sign s of Sll ceess or faillire in action but as
inform ation relevant to a theolY of balancing_
It is intt:resting to note that as the authors o bserve and describe thi s process, they are
compelled to in venta langu age_ T hey describe theori es-in-ac ti on whi ch th e ch ilcl ren them­
selves cann ot describe_
Indeed, a lthou gh the (younger) child's action sequences bear eloq uent witness to a
theory-in-actio n implicit in his behavior, this shou ld not be taken as a cap acity to
conceptua li ze expli citly on what he is doing and why _"
Kno wing-in-action wh ich the child may represent to hil1l self in telms of a " feel for the
blocks," the observers redescribe in terms of " theories'- 1 shall say that they con vert the
child's know ing-in -action to know/edge-in-acti on_
A conversion oftbis kind seems to be inevitable in any atte mpt to talk abo ut reflec­
tion -in-action_ One must use wo rds to describe a kind of knowing, and a change ofkno\\,­
ing, which are probably not origin all y represented in words at all. Thus, from their
observations of th e children 's behavior, th e a uth ors make verbal descriptions of lh e chil­
dren 's intuitive understandings_ These are the au thors' th eori es about the children's know­
ing-in-a ction _Like all snch theories, they are de liberate, idiosyncratic constructions, and
they can be pu t to experi mental test:
just as th e child was constructing a theory-in- ac tion in hi s end eavor to balance the
blocks , so we, too, were making on-the-spot hy potheses about the child 's theories
and providin g oppOl1uniti es for negati ve and pos itive responses in o rder to verify
o ur own theories l55
Reflecting-in-practice. The block-bala ncin g experim ent is a beautiful example of refl ec ­
tion-in-action , but it is very far remo ved from our usua l images of professional practice. If
we are to relate the idea o l reflection-in-actio n to professional practice, '\e must con sider
what a practice is and how it is like and llnlike th e kinds of action we have been discussing_
The wo rd "p ractice" is ambiguous_ When we speak ofa lawyer's practice, we mean
the kinds of things he does, the kin ds of clients he has, the range of cases he is called upon
to handle_When we speak of someone practicing the piano, however, we mean the repeti­
ti ve or experimental acti "ily by wh ich he tries to increase his proficiency on the instru­
ment. In the first sense, "practice" refers to per[olmance in a range of professional
situations_ In the second, it re fers to preparation for perfonnance_ But profession al practice
also includes an element of repetition. A professional practitioner is a specialist who
encounters certain types of situations again and again_ Thi s is suggested by the way in
which professionals use the word "case" - or project, account, commiss ion, or deal ,
depending on the profess ion _All such terms denote the units whi ch make Dp a practi ce, and
they denote types offamily-resembling exampks_ Thus a phys ic ian may en counter many
different "cases of measles"; a lawyer, man y different "cases of libeL" As a practiti oner
experiences many "at-iations of a ~ma ll number of types of cases, he is able to "practice"
his practi ce_ I--I e develops a repertoire of expectations, images, and techniques_ He leams
what to look for and how to respond to what he find s_ As long as his practice is stabl e, in
the sense th at it brin!,!;s him the same types of cases, he becomes less and less subj ect to s ur­
prise_ Hi s knowing- in-practi ce tends to hecome inc reasingly tac it, spontaneous, and auto­
matic, thereby conferring upon him and hi s clients the benefits of specialization _
On th e other hand, profess ional specialization ca n have negati ve e ffects_In the indi ­
vidual , a hi gh degree of spec iali zation ca n lead to a parochial narrowness of vision_Whe n
257
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
a pro fess ion di vid es into subspeciallics, it can break apart a n earlier wholeness of eX perl,
ence and understa nd ing. Tllus people sometimes yearn for the ge ne ral practit ioner or ear.
lIer days, who IS thought to have concerned him se lf w ith the " ', 'hole patient," and th~
someti mes aCCllse contemporary specialists of trcating particular illnesses in isol atloY
from th e rest of the patient's life experi ence. Further, as a practice becomes more rCpcti~
ti ve and routin e, and as know ing-in-pract ice becom es increas ing ly tacit and spontancou
the practitioner may miss important oppOltuniti cs to think a bout wh;;t he .is doin g. He IHay
find that, li ke the you nge r children m the block-bala ncJJ1g expcnment, he IS drawn into pal.
terns of erro r whi ch he cannot correct. A nd ifh c le arn s, as often happens , to be se lectively
inattentive to phen o mena that do not fit the categories of his knowing-in-acti on, then he
may suffer fr om boredom or "bum-out" and afflict hi s clients with the conseque nces orh i ~
na rrow ness and rigidity. When this happ ens, the practitioner has "over-learned" what he
knows.
A practit ioner's rcf1cclion can serve as a cO lTective to over-learning. Throu gh
Tenect ion , he ca n surface and criticize the tacit understandings that have grown IIp around
the repetiti ve experiences of a specialized practice, and can make new sense of the s i tu ~ .
ti ons of un certa inty or unique ness which he may a llow himself to ex perience.
Practiti o ners do reflect on their knowing-in-practice. Sometimes , in the relative
tranquility of a postmortem , they think back on a project th ey ha ve undertake n, a situation
they have li ved through, and th ey explore the understandings they ha ve brought to their
hand ling of th e case. They may do thi s in a mood of idle speculation, or in a delibe r~tE:
effort to prepare themselves for future cas es.
But th ey may also reflect on practice while they are in the midst of it. He re they
reflect-in-action, but the meaning of this tenll needs now to be considered in te nl1S of the
comp lex ity of knowing- in-practice.
A practitioner's reflect ion-in-act io n may not be very rapid. It is bounded by the
"action -prese nt, " the zone of time in w hi ch action can still make a di fference to the situ a­
tion . Th e action-present may stretch over minutes, hours , days, or eve n weeks or months..
depe ndin g on the pace of activity and the s itu atio nal boundaries that are characteristi c of
the practice. Within the give-and-take of courtroom bcha\'ior, for exa mple, a lawyer' S
refl ection-in-action may take pl ace in second s; but when th e conkxt is tha t of an anti trust
cn,,, that drags on over yea rs, reflection-in-action may proceed in leisurel y fashion over
t he co urSe of seve ral months. An orchestra conductor may think of a sing le performance
as a unit of practice, but in anoth er sense a whole season is hi s unit. The pace aDd durati on
of ep isodes of reflection-in-action valY with the pace and duration of th e s itu ations ofprac­
tice.
When a practitioner reflects in and on his practice, the pos sible objects of hi s reflec­
tion are as varied as the kinds of phenomena before him and the systems of kno wing- in ­
practice which he brings to them . He may reflect on the tacit norms and appreciations
which underlie ajudgm ent , or on the strateg ies and theories impli c it in a pattern ofbehav­
ior. He may reflect on th e feeling for a situation which has led him to adopt a particular
course of action, on the way in which he has framed the problem he is trying to so lve, oron
the ro le he has constmcted for him ~c1fw ithin a larger instituti ona l context.
Reflection-in-acti o n, in these several modes , is central to the art through which
practitioners so metim es cope with the troubl esome "diverge nt" situ atio ns oCpractice.
W hen the phen omenon at ha nd eludes the ordinary catego ri es of kno wledgc-in­
practice, presentin g itself as unique or unstable, the practitione r may surface and critici ze
his initial understa nding of th ~ phenomenon, construct a new description of it, and test th e
new description by an on-th e-spot experiment. Sometimes he atTi yes a t a nc\\ theory of the
phenomenon by articul at in g a fcdin g he has about it.
Whcn he finds him self stuck in a problematic situation which he cannot readi ly
convert to a mc 1nageablc problem, he may constl1lct a new way of setting I he problem - 8
258
.........
• • FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTlON·tN·ACTION
new fram e which , in w hat I shall call a "frame experi me nt," he tri es to illlPose on th e
situ ation.
When he is confronted with demands that seem in compatible or inco nsistent, he
may re spond by reflecting Oil The appreci ations which be and others have brou ght to the si t­
uation Conscious ofa dilemllla, he may attributc it to the way in whicb he bas set his prob­
lem , or e \'en to thc way in ",hicb he has framed his role. He may lh en find a way of
integrating . or c hoos in g a mo ng, the va lues at Slake in the situ at ion.
T he fo ll ow ing a re brier examples oUhe kinds ofreflcetion-in-action which I shall
illustrate a nd discuss at greater length late r on.
A n in vestment banker, speaking of the process by w hic h he makes his judgments of
in ves tment risk, observes that he reall y cannot describe evely thing that goes into hi s j\ldg­
ments. T he ordinary rulc s of thumb allow him to calculate " onl y 20 to 30 percent oftile risk
in inv estment." In tDrlllS of the rules of thumb , a company's operating numbers may he
excellent. Still, ifthe management's exp lanation of th e situation does not fit th e numbers,
or if th ere is something odd in tlte beh avior of the people, that is a subject for won)' whi c h
mllst be cons id ercd afresh in each new situation . He recalls a situation in which he spent a
day with one of the largest banks in Latin America. Several new business proposa ls we re
made to him , and th e bank's operating numb ers seemed satisfactOly. Still, he had a gllaw­
ing feeling th at something was wrong. Wh e n he thought about it, it seemed that he was
respo nding to the fact that he had been treated with a degree of deference out of all pro­
pOltio n to hi s actual position in the internationa l world of banking. What cou ld hav e led
these bankers to treat him so inappropri ate ly? When he left the bank at the end of th e day,
he sai d to his co lleag ue, "No llew business w ith that ollt iit l Let the existing obligations
come in , but nothing new l" Some month s later, the bank went throug h the bi ggest banl<­
ruptcy ever in Latin A merica - a nd all the tim e there had been nothing wrong with the
numbers.
An Ophthalmologist says that a g reat many of his patients bring problems th at are
not in th e book. In 80 or 85 percent of the cases, the patient's compl aints and sy mptoms do
not fall into famil iar categories of di agnosis and treatment. A good physician searches for
new ways of making sense of such cas es, and in ve nts experiments by \'.bi ~h to test his ne w
hypotheses. In a p3lti~ularly important family of situations, the patient suffcrs simultane­
ously from two ormore diseases . While each ofthese, individually, lend s itse lf to familiar
patterns of thought and action, their combinat ion may constitute a unique case that resi sts
o rdin ary approaches to treatm ent.
Th e ophthal mologist reca ll s olle patient who had inflammati on of the eye (uveitis)
comb ined w ith glaucoma . The treatme nt for g laucoma aggravated the inflaLllm at io n, and
the treatme nt for uveitis aggravated the g laucoma . Whe n the patie nt ca me in , he was
already under treatment at a level insu ffici ent for cure but suffic ie nt to irritate th e co mple­
mentary disease.
The ophthalmologist decided to remove all treatment and wa it to see wh at wo uld
emerge. The result was th at the patient's uve itis, a parasiti c infection , remai ned in mllc h
reduced form. On the other hand , the glaucoma disappeared a ltogether, thu s proving to
have been an artifact of th e treatment. The opthalmologist then began to "titrate" the
patient. Working with very small quantities of drugs, he aimed not at total cure but at a
reductio n of symptoms \\ hich would allow the patient to go ba ck to "'ork. (Seven li ves
depended on his 5000 ocular ce ll s l ) The prognosis was not good, for uveitis moves in
cycles and leaves scars be hind which impede vision. But for the tim e being. th e patient w as
able to work.
In his mid -thirti es, so me tim e between the co mposi ti o n of his early work The Cos·
sacks and his later Wa;- and Peace, Lev N ikolayevitc h Tolstoy became interested in edu­
cation. He started a school for peasa nt children on hi s estate at Ya ~;naya Polan ya, he visited
Europe to learn the latest ed ucation al methods , and he published a n edu cational journa l.
259
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
al so called Yasnaya Polanya. Before he was done (his new novel eventually replaced I '
EI3.
interest in education), he had built some seventy schools, had created an informalle"eh~:
trainin g program, and had written an exemplary piece of educational c\aluation.
For the most part, the m~thods of the EUropean sc hools filled him with disgust, HI
he was entranced by ROllsseau s writin gs (ln educallon. HIs own sch ool antici pated John
D ewey' s later approach to learning by dOll1g. and bQre th e stamp .of hIS cQn vi ction th.!t
gOQd tcaching requ ired "nQt a methQd but an art." In an essay, " On Teaching th e RUdi
ments," he desc ribcs his nQtiQn Qfart i.n the teaching Qfreading:
Eve ry individual must, in .order tQ acq uire the art .of reading in th e shQrtest Possi ble
time, be taught quite apart fro m any .other, and therefQre th ere mu st be a separate
methQd fQr each. That which fQrms an insuperable difficulty tQone dQes not in Iht
lcast keep back anQther, and vi ce ,·crsa. One pupil has a gQQd memory, and it is eas­
ier fQr him to memQrize the sy llables than tQ cQmprehend the vQwellessness orlh~
cQnsQnants; an .other reflects ca lmly and will cQmprehend a mQst ratiQnal SQund
method; anQther has a fine instinct, and he grasps the law Qfword cQ mbinatiQns by
readin g whole wQrds at a time.
The best teacher will be he who has at his tQngue's end the explanation .of what il
is th at is bothering the pupi/. These explanatiQns give th e teacher the knQwledge or
th e greatest PQssible number .of methQds, the ab ility .of inventing new methQds and,
abQve all , nQt a blind adherence tQ .one method but the cQnvictiQn that all methods are
.one-sided, and that the best methQd wQu ld be the .one which WQuld ans wer best to illl
th e PQssible diniculties incurred by a pupil, that is, not a method but an art and tal ent.
. Every teacher must ... by rcgarding every imperfectiQn in the pupil's CQ I11 ­
prehensiQn, nQt as a defect .of the pupil, but as a defect of his .own instruction ,
endeavQr tQ develQP in him s~lfthe abi lity of discQv ering ncw methQds ' .. '6
An artful teacher sces a child's difficulty in leaming tQ read nQt as a defect in the child but
as a dekct "Qfhis .own instnlctiQn." SQ he: must find a way .of explaining what is bQtheri ng
the pupil. He must dQ a pi ece .of experimental resea rch, then an d there, in the c1assrOQI11.
And because the child's difficulties may be uniqu e, the teacher cannQt assume that his
repertQire .ofexplanations will su ffice, even though they are " at the tQn gue's end" He must
be ready tQ invent new methQds and must "endeavQr tQ develQP in himself the ability of
discQvering them."
Over the last two years , researchers at the Massachusetts Ins ti tute of TechnQIQgy
hav e und ertake n a prQgram of in-service educatiQn fQr teachers, a program .organized
around the idea .of Qn-the-SPQt refiectiQn and experim ent, very much as in TQlstQY's art .or
teaching. Tn this Teacher PrQject," the researchers have encQuraged a small. group .of
teachers tQ explQre their .own intuitive thinking abQut apparently simple tasks in such
dQmalnS as mathematics, physics, music, and the perceived beha viQr .of the mQQn. The
teachers have made SQme impQrtant di scQveries. They have allQwcd themsel ves to
becQme cQnfused ab out su bjec ts they are supPQsed tQ "know"; and as they have tried to
work the ir way .o ut .of their confusiQns, they ha ve alsQ begun tQ think differen tly about
leaming an d teac hing.
Early in the prQJect, a critical event .occurred. The teac hers were asked tQ .observe
and react tQ a videQtape of twQ boys engaged in playing a simple game. Th e bQys sat at a
table, se parated from .one anQther by an .opaque screen. In frQnt .of .one bQy, blQcks of
various cQIQrs, shapes, and sizes we re aLTanged in a pattem. In fr(lnt .of th e .other, si mil ar
blocks were lying .on th e table in nQ particul ar .order. The first bQy was tQ tell th e secQnd
.one how tQ reprQduce the pattern. }\ ncr the li rs t few instructiQns, hQ we \ er, it became clear
that the secQnd bQy had gQne astray. In fact, the tWQ bQys had IQst tQu ch with .one an Qther,
th ough neither .of them knew it.
260
FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION
In th eir initial react iQns tQ the vi de Qtape, the teach ers s PQke ofa "cQmmunicatiQ ns
prQblem." They said that th e instruction gi \'cr had "w<)lI-dcvelQped verbal skills" and that
the receiver was " unable to follow directiQns." Then .one of the rescarchers PQinted .out
that, althQu gh the blQcks cQntained no green squares ,all squares were .orange and .only tri­
angles wcre green - she had hea rd the first bQy tell th e secQnd tQ "take a gree n square. "
When th e teachers watched the videQ tape aga in, th ey WCTe astQnished. Th at small mi stake
had set Qff a chain Qf false mQ ves. Th e seco nd bQy had pu t a green thing, a tri angle, "here
the first boy's pat1crn had an orange square, and frQm then .on all the instructiQns becam e
problemati c. Under the circumstancc's, the secQ nd bQy secmcd tQ havc displayed cQnsid­
erable ingenuity in his attempts tQ recQnci le the instructiQns w ith the pattern befQre him.
At this PQint, the teach ers reversed their picture of tile situatiQn. They eQ uId see why
the secQnd boy behaved as he did. He nQ IQnger seemed stupid; he had, indeed , "follQwed
instructiQns" As .one teacher put it, they we re nQw "giving him reaSQn." Th ey saw reasons
fQr his beha viQr; and his errQrs , which they had previously seen as an mability to fQIIQW
directiQns, they now found reaso nable.
Later .on in the project, as th e teachers in creasingly challenged themselves tQ
discQver the meanings .of a child 's puzzl ing behaviQr, they .often sPQke of "gi vi ng him
reaso n."
In examples such as these, sQmething falls .outside th e range .o f .ordinary expecta­
tiQns. The banker has a feci in g that sQmething is wrQng, th Qugh he cann Qt at fIrst say what
it is. Th e physician sees an .odd cQmbinatiQn .of diseases never befQre described in a med­
ica l text. TolstQy thinks of eac h Qf hi s pupils as an individual with ways .of learnin g and
imperfectiQns peculi ar tQ himse lf. The teachers are astonished by the sense behind a stu­
dent's mis take. In each instance, the practitiQner allQws himself tQ ex perien ce surprise,
puz;dement, .or cQnfusiQ n in a situation which he finds uncertain .or unique. He reflects .on
the phenomena befQre him , and .on the priQr und erstandin gs which have been implicit in
his behaviQr. He carries .out an ex periment which serves tQ generate bQth a new und er­
standing .of the phenQmena and a change in th e situation.
When SQmeQne reflects in actiQn, he becQmes a researcher in the practice CQntext.
He is nQt dependent .on the categQries of established theQry and technique, but constructs
a new theQry .of the unique case. His inquiry is not limited tQ a deliberatiQn abQut means
which depends .on a priQr agreement about ends. He dQes nQt keep means and ends sepa­
rate, but defines them inte ractively as he frames a prQblematic situatiQn. He dQes nQt sep­
arate thinking from dQing, ratiQcinating his way tQa decisiQn which he must later conveli
to actiQn. Because his experimenting is a kind .of aetiQn , implementatiQn is built intQ his
inquiry. Thus retlectiQn-in-actiQn can prQceed, even in situatiQns ofu neertainty .or unique­
ness, because it is nQt bQund by the dichQtQmies QfTcchnical RatiQnality.
AlthQugh rcflectiQn-in-actiQn is an extraQrd inary process, it is nQt a rare event.
Ind eed, fQr SQm <.: rcflecti ve practitioners it is th e CQre .of practice. Nevertheless, because
prQJessiQnalislll, is still mainly identified with technical experti se, reflectiQn-in-act iQn is
not generally accepted - even by thQse whQ dQ it - as a legitimate fQrm .of prQfessiQnal
knQwin g.
Many practitiQners, IQcked intQa vi ew Qi themselves as technical experts, find nQth­
ing in. the wQrld .of practice tQ Qccas iQn reflecti Qn. Th ey have becQme tQQ skillful at tech­
niques .of selective in atten tiQn, junk categQries, and situatiQnal control, techniques which
they use tQ preserve th e cQ nstancy .oftheir knQwledge-in-practice. FQr them , uncertainty is
a threat; its admission is a sign .of weakness. Others , mQre in clin ed tQ ward and adept at
rcHectiQn-in-acti Qn, nc\-c rthelcss feel prQfQundly uneasy because they ca nnQt sa) \\ha t
they knQ\\ how tQ dQ, cannQtjustify its quality .or ri gor.
I<"Qr these reaso ns, the study .of refiectiQn-in-actiQn is criticall y impQltant. The
dilemma .of rigQr or re!c\'ance may be dissQlved if we can develop an ep istemQI Qgy .of
practice which places techni cal problem so h'ing within a broader CQntext .of ref1ec ti ve
261
CONTEXTS: MAKING EDUCATION WORK
•
inquiry , show s how renection - in-action may be rigorous in its own righ t, ane! lin ks th ea
• FROM TECHNICAL RATIONALITY TO REFLECTION-IN-ACTION

40 . Ibid. p. 55.
ofpr~ cticc in U11cc ltainty and uniqLlene so (0 (ile scientis t's art ofresearch. We may thercbrt 41. Geoffrey V ickers , unpublished memorandum, MIT, 1978.
42. The wbol e of contcmporary li nguistics and psycholi nguistics is relevant he re - for example, the
increase tb e legitimacy ofreflcction-in-actiol1 and e ncourage its bro a der, deeper, and InO ~
work of Chomsky. Hullc, and Sinclair.
n gorous use. 43. Alfred Schutz, Collected Papers (The Hague: Nij hoff, 1962).
44. Ray L. BirdwhisteIl, Kines ics and Con/ext (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press,
1970).
NOTES 45. Jon athan Evan Mas low, "Grooving on a Baseball A ftemoon ," in Mainliner (May 1981): 34.
46. Barbel Inhclder an d Annette Kanniloff-Smi th, "Ii' you want 10 get ahead , get a theory,"
I . A.M . CalT-Saunders, Profess ions: Their OrgolliUl tion and Place in Sociery (Oxford : ih,.
Cl arelldon Press, 1928). Quo ted in Vo llmer and Mil ls , eds., Pra[essiOllalizatiol1 (Engl ewood Cognition 3, 3: \95-212
Cl iffs, N J.: Pre ntice-Ha ll , 1966), p. 3. 47. Ibid ., p.195 .
2. Wilbert M oore, The Professions (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1970), p. 56 . ~K Ibid., p. 202
3. Ibid. 49. Ibid., p. 203.
4. Ibi d.,p.141. 50 Ibid.
5. lethro Lieberman , 1:)'I'al1l1), ofExpeJ'tise (New York: Walker and Comrany), p. 55. 51. Ibid. , p. 205.
6. Nathan Gl aze r, "Schools or the Minor Pro fess ions," ivJ.'; iiJVa, (19~4J: 346. 52. Ibid
~ Ibid ., p. 363. 53. Ibid.
8. Ibid , p. 348. 54. Ibid ., p. 203.
9. Ibi d , p. 349. 55 . Ibid.,p. 199.
56. Leo Tolstoy, "On Teaching the Rudiments," in TolslO)'on Education, Leo Wiener, ed. (Chicago
10. Moore, The Professiolll', p. 56.
II. Edgar Schein, Pro;:· <>ional Education (Ne'.'! York: VlcGraw-Hill, 1973), p. 43. and London : U ni versity of Chicago Press, 1967).
12. Ibid, p. 39. 57. The staff of the Teachers' Project consisted of Jeanne Bamberger, Eleanor Duckworth, and
Margaret Lampert. My description of the incident of "giving the child reason" is adapted from
13. William Goode, "The Librarian: From Occupation to Profession ," reprinted in Vo llmer and
Mills, Professionaiiwtion, p. 39. a project memorandum by Lal11p ~ rt.
14. Ibid .
15. Ibid .
16. Emest Greenwood, "Aur ibutes ofa Profession ," reprinted in Vollmer and M ills, PI-ofessional.
izaliol1, p. II .
17. Ibid. , p. 19.
18. Ib id ., p.12.
19 . Harvcy, Brooks, "Dilemmas or Engineering Education," f l :I.E Spectl'um (Febmary 1967): 89.
W. Sch ein , Professional Education, p. 44.
21 Bmry Thome, "Professional Education in Medicine ," in Educotion for the Profess iollS of
Medicine, Law, Th eology and Social Welfare C':cw York: McGn'l,-HiJl, 1973), p. 30.
22. Ibid., p. 31.
23. Ibid .
M. Alan Gal1ner, Preparation of Huma n Sen 'ice Professionals (New York : Hu man Sciences
Press, 1976), p. 80.
25 . Ibid., p. 93 .
26. Derek Bok, "The Pres ident's Repon," reprinted in The Harvard Magazine, (\lay-JlIne 1979):
83.
n Ibid. , p. 84.
28. Ibid.
29. From private con versations with th ree Harvard Bu sin ess School faculty members.
30. Gi lbert Ryle, "On Knowing How and Knowing That," in The Co ncept ofM ind (London: Hutch­
eson, 1949), p. 32.
31. Andrew Ilarrison, .Making alU! Thinking (lndianapolis: Hackett, 1978) .
32. Chester narnard, in The Functions of the Executive (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Un iversity
Press, 1968, first publi shed 1938), p. 302.
33. Ibid. , p. 305.
34. Ibid , p. 302.
35. Ibid. , p. 306.
36. Michael Polan yi, The Tocit Dimension, (New York: Doubleday and Co .. 1967), p. 4.
37. Ibid .. p. 12.
38 . Chris A lexander, Notes To ward a Synthesis afForm, (Cambridge. Mass: Harvard Univcrsitv
Press, 1968).
39 . Ibid., p. 53 .

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